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This is just a story in the works at the moment, I'll try to update it as often as anyways hope yous like it 
Life is like a game show; you can be on a roll for several rounds and winning all you desire but you say one wrong word and that buzzer will sound your defeat. All of your previous winnings will be taken from you and then you'll be promptly thrown from the game. In life the similarities are astounding especially when you're looking at the poor man who's about to get kicked out of the game from down the scope of an M21.
This man played life the best way he could but never seemed to end up anywhere other than being someone elses lackey. So he decided one day that he could call in a few of his 'friends' in the hope that the game could be rigged in his favour and help him live the life of champagne and $1000 dollar suits. For years it was all going so smoothly for him in the seedy, corrupt world of politics.
In fact he fit in like a glove as it's no secret that the majority of politicians in this city are on the mobs payroll. Any good cop or detective in the city would be out to bust him in the name of the law. But that's not why I'm here.
I'm not sitting in this dank, dirty apartment aiming out the window just because he's taking backhanders from the lowlifes responsible for the crime that's engulfing this city.I'm doing this because he himself is one of those lowlifes and just like the ones before him and the ones that will follow after him, he is going to pay for every single ill deed that he has ever performed in his life.
Look at him. He stands behind that podium flaunting a holier than thou image when in reality he's nothing but a twisted man with a penchant for abusing children and having his goons throw their still warm bodies in a shallow, unmarked grave. Dispicable.
Mind you I have killed people and harmed a lot more, that I will admit, but it has never crossed my mind to ever harm a child in any sort of way. Think of it as a code or that I have standards. You can put me in a room with a rapist fine I'll gut him dry but you put me in a room with a child and expect me to kill it; I'll kill you.There is some things you just don't do in this world and taking the life of those who haven't had a proper chance at living is one of them.I could go on for hours regarding this subject but unfortunately I haven't got that time.
My right eye leaves the viewpoint of the scope to check my watch. He should be calling it a day with his speech soon, 5 minutes and 36 seconds to be exact. When he finishes he'll take the time to answer a few questions from the local press and that's when the fun starts.
A man he screwed over a long time ago has been called on to help me with this little mission. Don't worry he hasn't got a clue who I am and if all goes well he'll have followed the instructions I gave him, along with that package.Of course as much as this guy has it in for Senator Bryson I didn't expect him to do it for free so a little incentive was attached to it as well.
As much as I went through to get what's inside that package, I don't necessarily care if he doesn't show up. It's just that I'd rather have a little flavour sprinkled over the senators last minutes, and nothing says that better than the revelation of his dirty little secret being broadcast all over the city as he chokes on his own blood.That is a perfect ending for someone as vile and grotesque as him.
There is something I never quite understood about these politician types.Why would they choose to have public statements out in the open? Didn't they ever consider that there could be someone like me in the background waiting on them like a shark circling for blood? Or maybe that god complex that comes with the job gives them a sense of invincibility. Whatever it is, it isn't a very sensible option considering the lunatics that now occupy New York. One of them could just run out of that crowd and empty an entire clip into him before being restrained by the local law enforcement. That's just one of the many security faults I've seen since I've been here: Not enough crowd control.
I take a look down my scope again to see what's happening across the way. The Senator is oozing charisma and confidence as the media and his supporters lap it all up. That's all going to change in two minutes though.
Everyone gathered around that library is going to immediately have their beliefs and faith in that man shattered and then, when I pull the trigger they're not going to give two fucks about his death. Funny that; people can worship the ground someone walks on for their entire lives and then when it all hits the fan they're trying to set fire to his feet. It's very... enjoyable to watch
Looking around the area with my scope I come across something interesting. Brysons old friend is in position at the back of the crowd. I'll call him to make sure he knows what to do and when to do it.
I dial his number into my cell phone and it rings for several seconds. I watch him reach into his pocket as he clutches the package I gave him.
"Hello,"He answers as a few people walk past him.
"Daniel present the package to the media whenever Bryson starts taking questions,"I told him as he watched the Senator talk to the crowd.
"Look who is this?" He asked as he started to look around frantically.
"I'm an an enemy of your enemy.That makes me your friend.For now anyway."
"Where are you?"
"None of your concern at this moment in time,"I told him as I check my watch again. Only a minute left.
"I know people I can get you traced man,"He told me in a bid to unnerve me.
"Don't be silly this call is encrypted and I haven't left any substanial clues as to who I am,"I told him as I watch him grasp a hold of his red hair in frustration," Remember now Daniel; When he starts taking questions, you present the media with the package and tell them to open it, got it?"
"What if I don't?" He asked nervously.
"Then I'll have to come and get my money back,"I warned him before hanging up.
I watched him shake his head as he put his phone back in his pocket and headed into the crowd. He was very visible due to the bright red dye in his hair so it was easy enough to see him moving through the masses of brainwashed fools.
With a quick glance at my watch I seen that time is coming to a close with only a few seconds left to spare. As expected, the Senator has just started to wrap things up and should be done right about... now.
The crowd started clapping and cheering and the flashes of the photographers cameras were flickering as he gave his trademark smile and wave. After that he started speaking again and Daniel got himself into a good position beside a news crew.
I can understand the nervousness that is currently overcoming Daniel. I mean it's not exactly a good thing to be walking around with a package containing 'illegal' imagery of the Senator in one of his debauched sex sessions. Well, with me around it isn't a good thing; just ask the original owner of them. Whenever he wakes up that is.
Looking back with a grin spreading across my face, Daniel engages conversation with the reporter before handing her the package and walking off. The woman rips it open to look at the contents inside which causes her and the cameraman to gasp in horror as the Senator talks on, unbeknown that everything is about to blow up in his face.
My finger is firmly placed on the trigger as the senator is bombarded from all angles with an endless stream of questions. However the reporter that has obtained the pictures that I sent to Daniel seems to stick out like a sore thumb. She immediately grasps the Senators attention by waving the pictures in the air and wailing at the top of her lungs like the banshees of Irish folklore. The crowd's starting to get unruly now and it's not helping that the reporters passing those pictures around like candy. Perfect.
This is the final stage of my plan. Bryson is clearly looking unsettled by this and the look on his face suggests he may try to make an escape. I have to end this quickly before he can even get a chance to make a run for it.
The bullet whizzes through the air without a sound as I finally pull the trigger. It soars above the heads of the now hostile crowd and pierces its way through the targets throat. He instinctively holds on to his neck with both hands as the blood gushes out through his fingers and onto the ground below him. A futile reaction considering he'll be dead within seconds.
Just as I said that he staggers down the steps and collapses on the ground, right in front of the astonished crowd who are currently a pick and mix bag of emotions.
The aftermath of this will surely see all hell break loose but I'm not going to stick around and find out; I've got to get going and quick. So I pack the gun away into it's case and clean up to make sure no prints or hair strands of mine will be detectable to the cops when, or if, they ever get here
After that I should be out the door, down the hallway and out the fire escape. With any luck, not a single soul will even notice me doing this, making it all the easier for my get away. If only that was the case though.
With my gloved hand on the door handle and ready to turn, I can assume that no one will be outside waiting on me. Wrong. There's someone coming, their footsteps can be heard marching up the stairwell to the eastern side of the building.
How is this happening? I checked the building out for weeks beforehand and not a single soul ever came here. It is a derelict building so there's no chance that it's someone living in a neighbouring apartment, that happened out of town for a few months. If it is though he or she is going to be pissed that they're out of their home.
Still holding onto the handle, I lean forward and put my ear a little closer to the door. There's two sets of footsteps, although one of them has seemed to stop in a bid to let the other catch up.
They're getting closer now and I can start to make out their voices.
"Did you see that asshole by the coffee store?" A man asked in a deep, slurred voice that implied intoxication of some sort.
"No," Another man replied in the same slurred voice only a little hoarser than the other," Why what happened?"
"Fucker tried to pick a fight with me. Said I stole his wallet!"
"That's fucked up," The other said as the two of them reached the top of the stairs," Did you steal his wallet?"
The two of the walked down the hallway as I brace myself behind the door for whatever happens next. But they stop at next door.
"Of course. How do you think I scored?" The man laughed.
"I thought you were giving out blowjobs again," The other laughed.
"Fuck you Rudy."
I was wrong. It's not very often I'll say that but I mustn't have checked this place as thoroughly as I should have. How could I not have known a place like this would attract junkies? It's like the Taj Mahal for crackheads.
While they're in there shooting up or freebasing, I can slip out undetected and make for the fire escape. Problem is I have to pass their room to get to it and I never heard a door close.
A few seconds goes by before I make my move. With a little caution I open the door as silently and slowly as I can. I then step outside and plant my back to the wall before proceeding to move down to the next room.
I take a quick look in and see that they've already wasted no time in their bid to get high. The smaller yet older of the two, was already sprawled out on the floor while the other was just injecting himself.
As he pumps himself with heroin his eyes start closing over. I use this to my advantage and quickly move to the opposite side of the door before he reopens them. They are now none of my concern, I've wasted far too much time on them, so I rush to the end of the hall without trying to conceal the noise and climb out the window to the fire escape.
After making my way down into the alley, I take a look around and make sure no more unexpected guests are waiting to give me a farewell party.
No one seems to be here. That's good. I slowly and calmly walk out of the alleyway and up the busy street. The NYPD speed past in their squad cars with the sirens blaring as they rush to the scene of the now dead Senator Bryson. The people I'm walking amongst notice the squad cars speeding past but turn their heads as quick as they looked. They don't care. But they will care when they see who got murdered in the news tonight. Then when they find out he was paedophile, they decide that they no longer care and he can rot in hell. Makes me glad I'm not a human.
Technically I am a homosapien, in the physical sense that is. But in order to be a human you have to have a conscience. You have to have emotions. Feelings. Empathy. I have none of those and in my younger years that made me feel like an outsider, a social outcast but when I got older I embraced it for what it was. A gift.
All those emotions get you tangled up in a web of conflictions. Same with conscience. Honestly do you think I could have just done that on Bryson if I was a man with a conscience? No chance I would've just shot him in the head and saved him the pain if I did.
I do have codes though, that some people could misconstrue as an offshoot to some kind of conscience or moral structure. That would be the wrong assumption on their part, not that anyone would ever get the opportunity to discover my codes. I'm far too detached from the requirement of opening up to people and if I did it would compromise everything that I've ever worked for.
I finally reach my car, that was parked at the far end of the street. I open the door and toss the case containg my gun underneath the seat. I look at my watch and see that it's 3 pm. That gives me enough time to go home,get a shower and head out to work.
Let me guess you're thinking, work? Isn't he an assassin? My answer to that is: people can have two jobs can't they? Even if one's legal and the other's highly illegal. Although, to be fair, this is merely a job of convenience to make it seem like my income is legit otherwise I wouldn't be doing it. If the Tax man ever gets a sniff that I'm unemployed yet still paying the outrageous rent for my apartment, then I'm pretty much fucked.
So I have to get a job and it seems that working at a hardware store is low key enough for me. Nobody bothers me and I don't bother them. I just do my job and get out in time for the next assignment to come through. Which sometimes takes months so I have to pass the time shooting at pigeons. Which reminds me; I need baking soda and some raisins. That'll teach them not to shit on my balcony again.
Chapter 1
Life is like a game show; you can be on a roll for several rounds and winning all you desire but you say one wrong word and that buzzer will sound your defeat. All of your previous winnings will be taken from you and then you'll be promptly thrown from the game. In life the similarities are astounding especially when you're looking at the poor man who's about to get kicked out of the game from down the scope of an M21.
This man played life the best way he could but never seemed to end up anywhere other than being someone elses lackey. So he decided one day that he could call in a few of his 'friends' in the hope that the game could be rigged in his favour and help him live the life of champagne and $1000 dollar suits. For years it was all going so smoothly for him in the seedy, corrupt world of politics.
In fact he fit in like a glove as it's no secret that the majority of politicians in this city are on the mobs payroll. Any good cop or detective in the city would be out to bust him in the name of the law. But that's not why I'm here.
I'm not sitting in this dank, dirty apartment aiming out the window just because he's taking backhanders from the lowlifes responsible for the crime that's engulfing this city.I'm doing this because he himself is one of those lowlifes and just like the ones before him and the ones that will follow after him, he is going to pay for every single ill deed that he has ever performed in his life.
Look at him. He stands behind that podium flaunting a holier than thou image when in reality he's nothing but a twisted man with a penchant for abusing children and having his goons throw their still warm bodies in a shallow, unmarked grave. Dispicable.
Mind you I have killed people and harmed a lot more, that I will admit, but it has never crossed my mind to ever harm a child in any sort of way. Think of it as a code or that I have standards. You can put me in a room with a rapist fine I'll gut him dry but you put me in a room with a child and expect me to kill it; I'll kill you.There is some things you just don't do in this world and taking the life of those who haven't had a proper chance at living is one of them.I could go on for hours regarding this subject but unfortunately I haven't got that time.
My right eye leaves the viewpoint of the scope to check my watch. He should be calling it a day with his speech soon, 5 minutes and 36 seconds to be exact. When he finishes he'll take the time to answer a few questions from the local press and that's when the fun starts.
A man he screwed over a long time ago has been called on to help me with this little mission. Don't worry he hasn't got a clue who I am and if all goes well he'll have followed the instructions I gave him, along with that package.Of course as much as this guy has it in for Senator Bryson I didn't expect him to do it for free so a little incentive was attached to it as well.
As much as I went through to get what's inside that package, I don't necessarily care if he doesn't show up. It's just that I'd rather have a little flavour sprinkled over the senators last minutes, and nothing says that better than the revelation of his dirty little secret being broadcast all over the city as he chokes on his own blood.That is a perfect ending for someone as vile and grotesque as him.
There is something I never quite understood about these politician types.Why would they choose to have public statements out in the open? Didn't they ever consider that there could be someone like me in the background waiting on them like a shark circling for blood? Or maybe that god complex that comes with the job gives them a sense of invincibility. Whatever it is, it isn't a very sensible option considering the lunatics that now occupy New York. One of them could just run out of that crowd and empty an entire clip into him before being restrained by the local law enforcement. That's just one of the many security faults I've seen since I've been here: Not enough crowd control.
I take a look down my scope again to see what's happening across the way. The Senator is oozing charisma and confidence as the media and his supporters lap it all up. That's all going to change in two minutes though.
Everyone gathered around that library is going to immediately have their beliefs and faith in that man shattered and then, when I pull the trigger they're not going to give two fucks about his death. Funny that; people can worship the ground someone walks on for their entire lives and then when it all hits the fan they're trying to set fire to his feet. It's very... enjoyable to watch
Looking around the area with my scope I come across something interesting. Brysons old friend is in position at the back of the crowd. I'll call him to make sure he knows what to do and when to do it.
I dial his number into my cell phone and it rings for several seconds. I watch him reach into his pocket as he clutches the package I gave him.
"Hello,"He answers as a few people walk past him.
"Daniel present the package to the media whenever Bryson starts taking questions,"I told him as he watched the Senator talk to the crowd.
"Look who is this?" He asked as he started to look around frantically.
"I'm an an enemy of your enemy.That makes me your friend.For now anyway."
"Where are you?"
"None of your concern at this moment in time,"I told him as I check my watch again. Only a minute left.
"I know people I can get you traced man,"He told me in a bid to unnerve me.
"Don't be silly this call is encrypted and I haven't left any substanial clues as to who I am,"I told him as I watch him grasp a hold of his red hair in frustration," Remember now Daniel; When he starts taking questions, you present the media with the package and tell them to open it, got it?"
"What if I don't?" He asked nervously.
"Then I'll have to come and get my money back,"I warned him before hanging up.
I watched him shake his head as he put his phone back in his pocket and headed into the crowd. He was very visible due to the bright red dye in his hair so it was easy enough to see him moving through the masses of brainwashed fools.
With a quick glance at my watch I seen that time is coming to a close with only a few seconds left to spare. As expected, the Senator has just started to wrap things up and should be done right about... now.
The crowd started clapping and cheering and the flashes of the photographers cameras were flickering as he gave his trademark smile and wave. After that he started speaking again and Daniel got himself into a good position beside a news crew.
I can understand the nervousness that is currently overcoming Daniel. I mean it's not exactly a good thing to be walking around with a package containing 'illegal' imagery of the Senator in one of his debauched sex sessions. Well, with me around it isn't a good thing; just ask the original owner of them. Whenever he wakes up that is.
Looking back with a grin spreading across my face, Daniel engages conversation with the reporter before handing her the package and walking off. The woman rips it open to look at the contents inside which causes her and the cameraman to gasp in horror as the Senator talks on, unbeknown that everything is about to blow up in his face.
My finger is firmly placed on the trigger as the senator is bombarded from all angles with an endless stream of questions. However the reporter that has obtained the pictures that I sent to Daniel seems to stick out like a sore thumb. She immediately grasps the Senators attention by waving the pictures in the air and wailing at the top of her lungs like the banshees of Irish folklore. The crowd's starting to get unruly now and it's not helping that the reporters passing those pictures around like candy. Perfect.
This is the final stage of my plan. Bryson is clearly looking unsettled by this and the look on his face suggests he may try to make an escape. I have to end this quickly before he can even get a chance to make a run for it.
The bullet whizzes through the air without a sound as I finally pull the trigger. It soars above the heads of the now hostile crowd and pierces its way through the targets throat. He instinctively holds on to his neck with both hands as the blood gushes out through his fingers and onto the ground below him. A futile reaction considering he'll be dead within seconds.
Just as I said that he staggers down the steps and collapses on the ground, right in front of the astonished crowd who are currently a pick and mix bag of emotions.
The aftermath of this will surely see all hell break loose but I'm not going to stick around and find out; I've got to get going and quick. So I pack the gun away into it's case and clean up to make sure no prints or hair strands of mine will be detectable to the cops when, or if, they ever get here
After that I should be out the door, down the hallway and out the fire escape. With any luck, not a single soul will even notice me doing this, making it all the easier for my get away. If only that was the case though.
With my gloved hand on the door handle and ready to turn, I can assume that no one will be outside waiting on me. Wrong. There's someone coming, their footsteps can be heard marching up the stairwell to the eastern side of the building.
How is this happening? I checked the building out for weeks beforehand and not a single soul ever came here. It is a derelict building so there's no chance that it's someone living in a neighbouring apartment, that happened out of town for a few months. If it is though he or she is going to be pissed that they're out of their home.
Still holding onto the handle, I lean forward and put my ear a little closer to the door. There's two sets of footsteps, although one of them has seemed to stop in a bid to let the other catch up.
They're getting closer now and I can start to make out their voices.
"Did you see that asshole by the coffee store?" A man asked in a deep, slurred voice that implied intoxication of some sort.
"No," Another man replied in the same slurred voice only a little hoarser than the other," Why what happened?"
"Fucker tried to pick a fight with me. Said I stole his wallet!"
"That's fucked up," The other said as the two of them reached the top of the stairs," Did you steal his wallet?"
The two of the walked down the hallway as I brace myself behind the door for whatever happens next. But they stop at next door.
"Of course. How do you think I scored?" The man laughed.
"I thought you were giving out blowjobs again," The other laughed.
"Fuck you Rudy."
I was wrong. It's not very often I'll say that but I mustn't have checked this place as thoroughly as I should have. How could I not have known a place like this would attract junkies? It's like the Taj Mahal for crackheads.
While they're in there shooting up or freebasing, I can slip out undetected and make for the fire escape. Problem is I have to pass their room to get to it and I never heard a door close.
A few seconds goes by before I make my move. With a little caution I open the door as silently and slowly as I can. I then step outside and plant my back to the wall before proceeding to move down to the next room.
I take a quick look in and see that they've already wasted no time in their bid to get high. The smaller yet older of the two, was already sprawled out on the floor while the other was just injecting himself.
As he pumps himself with heroin his eyes start closing over. I use this to my advantage and quickly move to the opposite side of the door before he reopens them. They are now none of my concern, I've wasted far too much time on them, so I rush to the end of the hall without trying to conceal the noise and climb out the window to the fire escape.
After making my way down into the alley, I take a look around and make sure no more unexpected guests are waiting to give me a farewell party.
No one seems to be here. That's good. I slowly and calmly walk out of the alleyway and up the busy street. The NYPD speed past in their squad cars with the sirens blaring as they rush to the scene of the now dead Senator Bryson. The people I'm walking amongst notice the squad cars speeding past but turn their heads as quick as they looked. They don't care. But they will care when they see who got murdered in the news tonight. Then when they find out he was paedophile, they decide that they no longer care and he can rot in hell. Makes me glad I'm not a human.
Technically I am a homosapien, in the physical sense that is. But in order to be a human you have to have a conscience. You have to have emotions. Feelings. Empathy. I have none of those and in my younger years that made me feel like an outsider, a social outcast but when I got older I embraced it for what it was. A gift.
All those emotions get you tangled up in a web of conflictions. Same with conscience. Honestly do you think I could have just done that on Bryson if I was a man with a conscience? No chance I would've just shot him in the head and saved him the pain if I did.
I do have codes though, that some people could misconstrue as an offshoot to some kind of conscience or moral structure. That would be the wrong assumption on their part, not that anyone would ever get the opportunity to discover my codes. I'm far too detached from the requirement of opening up to people and if I did it would compromise everything that I've ever worked for.
I finally reach my car, that was parked at the far end of the street. I open the door and toss the case containg my gun underneath the seat. I look at my watch and see that it's 3 pm. That gives me enough time to go home,get a shower and head out to work.
Let me guess you're thinking, work? Isn't he an assassin? My answer to that is: people can have two jobs can't they? Even if one's legal and the other's highly illegal. Although, to be fair, this is merely a job of convenience to make it seem like my income is legit otherwise I wouldn't be doing it. If the Tax man ever gets a sniff that I'm unemployed yet still paying the outrageous rent for my apartment, then I'm pretty much fucked.
So I have to get a job and it seems that working at a hardware store is low key enough for me. Nobody bothers me and I don't bother them. I just do my job and get out in time for the next assignment to come through. Which sometimes takes months so I have to pass the time shooting at pigeons. Which reminds me; I need baking soda and some raisins. That'll teach them not to shit on my balcony again.
