Author: Cindy G.
Rating: Mature
Description: Christie is on another mission but it is the right one?
It was ten-thirty, 2 hours since she had entered the residence. She had all black on, a ski mask over her head, a gun and knife in each pocket. She was seated behind a black leather couch in the living room of the home, waiting for her target to return. It was pitch black, except for the moonlight spilling through a peep between the curtain and window, a ray of conscious flowing into a empty house, except for a torn soul, waiting for her prey. She went over the assignment in her head: 31 year old male, Russian, bodybuilder, to be killed quickly and quietly. No questions. The order rang through her ears. It felt all too familiar. Killing was too much a part of her. It had already seeped through her whole existence, making it seem like taking the lives of other people was actually a respectable living.
She heard a key turn near the door. Her gloved hand was sitting beside her pocket, her fingers already reaching for the trigger of the gun nestled within the cotton of her pants. The jangle of keys flew to a nearby table and a dark figure paced towards the couch she was hidden behind. He clapped twice and lights flickered within the air. A TV was turned on, where Christie could hear the familiar sounds of famous actors conversing about an atomic bomb. She couldn?t remember what movie the dialogue was from, but she knew that the situation she was in wouldn?t permit thoughts about movies. She inched quietly to the side of the couch, trying to catch a glimpse of her target. She could see a pair of dirty, brown army boots with black slacks draped over them. ?What a pair of tacky boots? she thought as she slowly pulled out a gun and retreated back to her original spot. The footsteps sailed away to another room, which gave her time to assume a position . She cocked the gun, and pulled out another, repeating the same motion. Emerging from her hiding space, she finally got to inspect her surroundings. Paintings of all kinds framed the light brown colored walls of his apartment. A carpet made of deep red colors that reminded one of fresh blood, or maybe it just reminded her of that, and a TV the size of a little girl. She positioned herself in the middle of the living room, wondering how someone could live with such little space for televisions and furniture.
?Yeah?I got it. Bye.? A thick Russian accent echoed through the hall leading to the living room. Footsteps approached her, but her heartbeat kept itself calm and steady. The pistols were in full view of her eyes, the stainless steel burning through her fingers like fire. ?Here we go again??
She finally caught the glimpse of him and within seconds, before the first shot was fired from her gun, a bullet brushed past the strands of her hair like lightning. Stunned, she rolled behind the television. What had just happened? Did he shoot at her? How did he know? She wasn?t told of this, because assassins are told if their targets are of any threat or possess any sort of weapon. Peeking out with the most care she saw the image of the same man she had seen a few minutes before but now he was a man, packed with guns in his gloved hands like he had experienced the thrill of shooting a gun, smoke leaving the hole of one of his pistols like an aura of excitement had just been released his body. His blue eyes were calculated, hard as ice, eyes lost and vast like the ocean. She knew what kind of eyes those were?the eyes of an assassin. The concentration, the sadness said it all. But an assassin? He was supposed to be a bodybuilder.
Part 2 Coming Soon!