The stranger reaches into his hip holster and pulls out a pistol. You feel a stabbing pain as a bullet hits you square in the chest. The gun makes no sound save for a muffled click; the silencer screwed on to the end of the barrel renders the gunshot inaudible, thus maintaining the assassin's cover. He fires again, and again a third time, knocking you on your back.
"Why....?" you stammer breathlessly, hoping none of the bullets had perforated a lung.
"This one's for Mr. Valenzetti. A pity you wasn't able to fulfill 'is expectations," he says in a heavy British accent, towering over you, pointing his weapon right between your eyes.
Time seems to run slow. Here you are, about to be killed on your own front lawn, all because some third-rate Tony Soprano wannabe got the wrong address. You can't even die in peace; those idiots next door are running their lawnmower, making an annoying buzz...
Wait a minute... it's almost midnight. Even those idiot neighbors wouldn't try to mow their lawn at this hour. What could be making that buzzing then? Whatever it is, it's getting closer...
The hitman pauses for a moment, distracted by the growing buzzing noise. He glances to the left just in time to see the source as it decapitates him.
One second, the hitman was standing over you. The next, he was standing over you without a head. All you could make out in between was a flash of silver. The hitman's body collapses and falls backwards. Inwardly, you are glad that his corpse didn't fall on you.
Despite your multiple gunshot wounds, you manage to pull yourself up. You see a flash of silver dash across your field of vision, as it returns to the hand of its owner. Across the street stands...
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