The Assassin The rain fell started to fall hard on his wet nose, forcing him to take cover under the leafless tree which stood opposite to his victims house.

The place where his victim would see the last sight of this earth was an unfurnished old dusty barren wooden house. Broken windows loosely clinged to the rusted hinges trying not to be blown away by the gusting wind. The grey star-less sky gloomed over the house giving an appearance that the sky had control over the house. The trees surrounding the house were all leafless and decayed animals were left unburied showing that the house was so dull and so much lacked life that it had sucked happiness from its surroundings.

He turned and saw his victim’s black Mercedes SLR, a very rare edition indeed. The Mercedes had a broken windscreen wiper putting all the load on its partner, the radio antenna was broken and the door handle of the rear door at the left of the car was missing. The chauffeur was smoking a cigarette in the pale dim light and kept throwing the cigar butt outside the window. On seeing the Mercedes a smirk comes across his face, now his mission would end soon and his heartbeat was same as ever as it has ever been, calm at every second.

The victim not surprisingly a man came out of the car, leapt over the puddles of mud which came across his way towards his so-called house. On reaching the steps towards the door, his foot came heavily on the broken step forcing a cut through his expensive hand-stitched white pant which was now covered with blood as well as mud. He limped towards his way and then he suddenly came to a hault and rolled down the bloody muddy steps. Soon the door left the clutches of the its hinges and came crushing down over the dead corpse making it more bloody. But beside the body lay a 15mm bullet of a long range shotgun explaining the whole event why the body rolled down and crashing of the door and the driver was gone...

Mission success was the first thing that came to the killer’s mind although the sentence didn’t have much of an effect on the killer’s face. He dismantled the shot-gun and laid it peacefully in its gun case. He took the cigar which he had been smoking during the whole mission and buried it under the wet soil. He approached the corpse and took the bullet which lay uselessly after it had done it work beside the dead body. Taking out the keys of his Yamaha motorbike, he crossed the wet lonely road to get to his motorbike that he had covered under some bushes trying to camouflage it. The bike roared on its awake and it roared to acceleration towards the dense city which laid at the other side of the road...