She stared death in the face and she smiled.
At least that's what the stories said.
So they called her the queen of darkness.
But some knew better.
And so they called her the devil instead.
-S.E George
I'm not a complicated woman.
But I suppose...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
27th October
"3AM right on time" I'm laying on top of the flat roof on the building opposite the notorious club called "peccatore" It's Italian. My target is stumbling out with a green beer bottle in his left hand and a not so happy looking girl being dragged by another. His one guard stood tall and walked a few paces behind them.
The guard was as planned, but the girl was only assumed. It's his reputation to take unwilling girls back for a night of "fun" the figlio di puttana.
The girl was looking around as if hopeful someone would help her get away from this creep. Well I guess it's her lucky day.
I have my Barrett M90 sniper rifle positioned in front of me. One of my hundreds of weapons. The buyer requested a clean kill, one bullet through the head. Nothing fancy.
Although this guy completely deserved his imminent death, I still want my money. Killing without purpose is murder. Killing for money is still murder. But at least I'm one rich arse murderer. I checked my offshore bank account to see if the transaction had gone through. Stronzo thought he could get away without paying.
'My money' I whisper through the earpiece I'm wearing 'Quickly. Or he might just get away' I have a relaxed and knowing smile on my face. The same smile that appears whenever I know I'm about to get a lot of money.
The man in almost at his black limo. I see the number rapidly increase in my account. And a transaction for €1,000,000
'Add another 50 to that. For being a stronzo.'
I wait exactly 3 seconds before seeing another €50,000 put into the account. 'Pleasure doing business'
Taking a puff of my cigarette I hardly have to keep my eyes open to make the shot in-front of me. It was an easy trajectory and I had perfect line of sight. I always pick the best spots. I was looking through the microscope and readying my trigger finger.
His head was just about to duck behind his door. That was before his body dropped to the floor. I saw that the bullet hit about 0.8 centimetres closer to his right eye than his left.
Could have been better. I mentally critique myself. A full 2 seconds later, the girl finally realised what had happened as she got out of the car. Her high pitch scream annoyed the hell out of me. Although I suppose it's a humane reaction.
The body guard was looking around for any sight of the shooter. His eyes locked on mine and I waved my fingers at him.
Ding dong, The bitch is dead, He was just as bad as the rapist.
I packed up my gun in the guitar case as I started to shimmy down the drain pipe. I jumped down about five feet to the ground and landed upright in my combat boots.
I pulled out my phone and rang my best friend. 'Hey Monica' 'Nadia! How's the job going?' She seemed happier than usual. There was music playing quietly in the background. And Mon's breathing was awfully quick. She also doesn't know about my actual job profession. It's better that no one does. 'All good; a lot of tips tonight. Have you got someone over? Like a certain dickhead?' I take the piss out of her. 'Yeahhh maybe you shouldn't come back tonight' she draws out the yeah and then laughs. I cannot help but laugh at my horny arse best friend. 'Alright then cagna. Have fun'
