Untitled story - chapter one

Chapter one

Focus. Control your breathing.
Don't lose sight of the target.
Wait for the right moment.
It's always the same, yet always different.
Losing focus for one second could mean the difference between success and failure,
life and death.

There.
The right moment presents itself.
I squeeze the trigger.

The recoil makes the rifle shift, but I'm ready for it.
I empty the chamber, the bullet casing land next to me.
I reload and put my focus back on the target.
I have to confirm the kill.
No second shot is necessary, it was right on target.
I zoom in.
The target, a middle aged white male, is lying on the ground.
The bullet had ripped up a hole in the back of his head,
blood was gushing out, making a puddle on the sidewalk, a sign of a successful kill.

One down, two to go.
I put the safety on, pick up the empty casing from the ground and hang my rifle on my back.
I creep into the alley, disappearing into the shadows again.
The night has only begun, and I still got more people to kill.

The targets must all be connected somehow, all three middle aged men, politicians or business men, men with power.
Whatever it is doesn't matter, the "why" never concern me.
Somebody wants them dead, and that's where
I come in. I let the higher ups, my employers, handle the details,
they do their job, and I do mine.

I continue walking down dark alleyways.
The rifle gave the message I'm not to be messed with, but the chances still existed that some wannabe thug would try to mug me.
I wasn't concerned, because it that happened, it would be the last thing that person would ever do.
It wouldn't be the first time
I killed someone who's gotten in my way.

There's nothing like that tonight tough. Good,
I really don't have time to waste, I've already wasted enough time, and I still have two targets left.
I look at my watch.
1a.m., May 15th.
It's pretty chilly out, good thing I have my coat.

The next target is up ahead, in a sleazy motel in the shadier part of town.
Thanks to the information I've received, I knew exactly where they would be. Somebody had done their homework, which usually made my job a lot easier.

The neon lights tell me I've arrived at the red light district, where discretion was a rule, if you had enough money that is.
If I could, I avoided the red light district, because you never know what will happen there. It was like another world, a world where anything could happen.
Grease the right wheel, and you could get almost anything you want, as long ass you don't go too far, or you'd end up dead.

It's a delicate balance of power, and you'd have to be deep in to even begin to understand it, but as long as it doesn't affect my work, I don't care.
But it wasn't as easy as just checking in, you had to have connections, or you'd end up robbed or killed, and in most cases, both.
Pay the right people, and you where protected, not only from sleaze bag muggers, but also from those who wish to expose what goes on here.

I hadn't gotten all the information about this, I was on a need to know basis.
If I'm lucky, my employers has made it clear with the right people who I was and what I would be doing, if I wasn't so lucky, they would have no idea, and I would end up dead.
I should get hazard pay just for being here.

The street is busy as usual, filled with hookers, pimps, pushers, junkies, all kinds of scum. Not exactly the pride of the human race.

I make it to the motel, the lobby is empty. I don't need directions anyway.
I go up to the second floor. Room 217, this is it.
The rifle wouldn't be useful here. I pull out my handgun, a .357 Magnum. I kick the door open.
I spot the target, no time to waist.
I fire three shots, hitting his throat, chest and then trough his chin.
That's enough; any more would just be a waste of bullets.
The hooker he was with is a little shaken up, but she no doubt knew what was gonna happen, and that probably meant the right people had been informed after all.

No time to stick around to find out, I still have one more target left.
I open the window and climb out to the fire escape. I make it down to the alley and continue walking.
I still half expected a bullet in the back as I left, but nothing.
I guess it is my lucky night after all.

I continue walking to a parking garage, where I left my car earlier.
It was a black, pretty run down old pickup truck.

How it still ran was quite remarkable, my mechanic is a miracle worker.
I open the trunk and take out a black duffel bag.
I put my rife in the trunk, I'm not gonna need it more tonight.
The third and last target was all that was left tonight.
I put the duffel bag in the passenger seat next to me and then drive off.

The target lived in a house at the edge pf the suburbs, the nice part of town.
The house was at the edge of the forest that separated the downtown district with the suburban district, like a barrier between the two very different areas.
In 50 years that forest would probably be gone, but for now it could work in my advantage.

I park the car at the side of the road around a mile or so from the target's house and get out.

My plan was to approach the house from the forest to avoid detection from nosy neighbors.
I hate working in the suburbs almost as much as the red light district.
Neighborhood watch, spying neighbors, the whole place was full of potential witnesses that could make my job a lot harder.
I look in the glove compartment for some extra ammo before I leave, I reload my revolver and check the Colt in my ankle holster, then I take the duffel bag and venture into the forest.

Running trough the forest, my path lit only by the moonlight, it doesn't take long to get there.
I look around at the edge of the forest, to make sure it looks clear before I move on.

Whoever designed this place left a major flaw in the security, a flaw I could take advantage of.
I run to the back of the house, and look around the wall.
I almost immediately find what I'm looking for, a fuse box covered by some ivy.
I open the duffel bag and take out a pair of bolt cutters.
After breaking the padlock with the bolt cutters and open up the fuse box.
I cut the power, deactivating the alarm.
I walk over to the door.
I pull out a lock pick I have hidden in the inside pocket of my coat and get to work.
The door opens easily.

I take out my Glock and equip it with a silencer.
I walk inside, and find myself in a living room.
Nice place, this guy must be making good money.
Whatever he was doing, it had put a death wish on him.

Suddenly, I hear something. Instinctively, I press up against the wall, gun ready.
In trough the door comes…
A cat.
I sigh quietly.

The cat looks at me, probably wondering what I'm doing here in the middle of the night.
I snap out of it, no time for cats, I have a job to do.

I walk trough the door the cat had gone trough, and quietly sneak trough the hall and up the stairs.
I sneak trough the upstairs hall, making my way to the master bedroom, where I'll most likely find the target, sleeping.
I slowly open the door and sneak in.

I walk over to the bed, and to my surprise, it's empty.
For a second I wonder if he's not home, then I hear something, a toilet flushing.

I turn around to face the door behind me, and without thinking twice, I shoot when I see him in the doorway.

He didn't even have time to open his mouth. It was a real money shot, right between the eyes.

I check the body. It's definitely my target.
The cat is sitting next to the back door when I get downstairs again.
I open the door and off he goes, and I do the same.
I walk trough the forest no need to hurry now.

I detach the silencer and throw the Glock into a small water stream.
I make it back to the car and put the duffel bag in the trunk, close it and make sure it's locked.

Before I get back in the car, I take a deep breath.
I killed three men tonight, and tomorrow night, I will kill someone else.

That's the life I live.
My name is John winters, and I'm a hit man.