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The Gentleman

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The Gentleman One shot, it only takes one shot. The ticking of the clock was eerie as it was the only object making any sound in the entire house. The clock gave a thud when it chimed twelve. On a classy sofa sat a man, immaculately dressed, with a glass of wine in one hand and a cigar in another. Although the cigar was out, he still puffed at it all the same. Gently, he swirled the wine, trying to overcome a piercing headache in his temple. He watched the red liquid glide back and forth, like his emotions. Carelessly, he took a sip, but it stung his head. He continued to stare at the alcohol, psyching himself up for the task ahead. He was sure that the target was a cautious man, and he could not afford to miss. If he did, then in an instant everything would become chaotic in an instant. ...read more.


Silently, he moved towards the grand piano in the corner of the room. He held out his right index finger and gently tapped the A-key. One might have expected a soft sound to be heard but it only gave out a clunk. For a moment it seemed as though nothing had happened, but in fact his fingerprint was already being scanned and confirmation of his identity is in process. Seconds later, the coffee table next to the piano gave a soft click, where a concealed drawer popped out holding different kinds of pistols and rifles. He withdrew a pair of black gloves, putting them on contemplatively. He then bent down and picked up his favourite rifle, cleaned thoroughly for maximum accuracy. He also loaded a pistol, light but accurate, especially useful in tight corners. Tucking the gun securely into his belt, he straightened up, yet his eyes were caught by a gold chain placing next to a magazine. ...read more.


After all, he was the man who had taken down Kim Donovan, the most influential person in the world. He examined the target's profile again with two cold grey eyes that never tired. He had 20/20 vision; even his optician commented that he was one of the rare cases seen in his practitioner's life. But there was no point in showing off, it all would hang on pure skill, and Lady Luck. This was the day. He cocked the revolver before turning the knob of the door, but then realised he almost forgot something important, something essential to every job he had done. He went back to the coffee table and picked up a bunch of black roses. They were the most expensive ones in the shop, chosen personally by him the previous day. With the flowers was a card, addressed to the family of his target. Determined, he climbed into his black Mercedes with the beautiful flowers and the deadly weapons; he drove off. * * * The card read: Sorry. But it had to be done. - The Gentleman ?? ?? ?? ?? Adrian Tam 12/02/2008 1 ...read more.

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