Short stories!

When Paths Cross

I walked into the night, my heart pounding. 

This was my first mission.

Failure wasn't an option.

Behind me, I could hear the constant beeping of horns as drivers tried in vain to escape the traffic of thousands of cars that had remained stationery for hours. Street lights and illuminated shop signs blared viociously, but my face remained anonymous behind the face mask hid my mouth and nose from view.

I only had one goal: find Richard Bowin, and kill him. That was what I had been told to do- go to Australia and murder the man who would potentially murder everyone. Why though, they didn't tell me. They didn't realy say much.

A few months earlier, I had been an average twenty-year-old trying to get through university without failing. Then somehow I ended up in the clutches of MI6, a spy organisation I had thought was fake until now.

Making sure no one was around, I walked swiftly into an alleyway and pulled myself onto a ledge of a building where Bowin was supposed to taking aprt in a celebration. I had been told to do it here because there was a good chance he wouldn't be on as aware and his usual security team were taking lart in a seperate meeting. 

They wouldn't suspect a thing.

All I had to do was climb a ladder onto a fire escape, go straight through the back of the building (the side that was unused due to powerful electrical currents), find Bowin when he was alone and shoot him in the most vunerable part of his body: his stomach. The ony reason I wasn't to shoot him anywhere else was because he protected all the other targets on his body and, according to MI6, he had had surgery on his stomach a month ago, so it was twice as fragile.

Quickly, I pulled myself up the ladder and began to climb. Thankfully, people were focused on getting home and the traffic jam, so I was more likely to go unnoticed, especially as I was wearing all black and blended in with the buildings.

Suddenly, I missed a step and my heart leapt into my throat as I nearly lost my balance. It took me a moment to realise I was stepping on nothing and kicked the edge of the ladder in an attempt to find the right place. Grimacing in pain, I hastily regained my footing and, for a moment, I stayed there and let the panic subside. A moment too late and I would have fallen to my death.

Remembering to be more careful, I carried on climbing and jumped onto the fire escape. In front of me was a window that looked into a fancy hallway. Making sure I couldn't be seen, I peered in. Thankfully, the only people around were two drunk men joking around about tables, which was an odd choice of humour; they probably wouldn't pay attention to me if I walked right in front of their greasy faces.

Nonetheless, I tried to be as quiet as possible as I opened the window and slipped in (I think being ultra-thin helped). As soon as I stepped in, the two drunk men walked out, still laughing like lunatics leaning on each other for support. 

I walked through the dark hallway, with the sound of music faintly playing in the distance. Trying not to stumble over wires, I jogged down the derelict stairs, praying no one was around. In the corner of my mind, I wondered what would happen if I got caught- sent to jail, future destroyed, everything bad basically. I made a mental note to never get messup with MI6 again.

After a few minutes, I somehow ended up in another hallway, next to the room where everyone was in. My heart beating like a drum, I ran over to a small room that hopefully no one else was in. MI6 had told me that was supposed to be the room where Bowin was- the rooman with a red door and a small cirle of chapped sood in the centre. If anyone else was in, let's just say I had some extra bullets.

I pause suddenly.

Wait.

What was I thinking?

I'd seen enough movies to know that when a character started thinking like that, it became a whole Macbeth-spiralling-down-into-darkness thing and a they would end up evil. I internally cursed myself and the peoppe who had dragged me into this.

I was way too old for these kind of things.

As I reached for the door handle, I made sure I had what I needed to detain Bowin. If I went there unarmed, I would look like an idiot. A dead one, at that. Taking a deep breath, I turned the handle and walked in.

As soon as I did, I gave a small sigh of relief. He was there alone: no bodyguards or guests. Silently, I tiptoed forward, where Bowin stood with his back turned away from me, looking at a piece of paper.

I pulled out the gun, getting ready to shoot him. Suddenly, I stepped on a dicarded piece of paper, making a small shuffling noise. Crap.

In the blink of an eye, he turned around. Then I saw his face, and nearly dropped the weapon.

I knew him.

More than that- we used to be best friends.

I had forgotten it ages ago, but now I vividly remembered my primary school days: hanging out with one specific boy every day, messing around, pranking each other. even creating our own secret code. Until the day he left the school to move to Australia.

 I couldn't feel anything over the sudden wave of nostalgia and shock that had consumed my entire being. But his name was different....

I looked at the man I was supposed to kill, searching for a sign of recognition.

Bowin had remembered too. 

He dropped the laper he was holding, and stared at me. "R-ryan? Is that you?"

I nod. "Yes, but... you... your name... what happened?"

He looked at me, as if deciding whether I should be trusted or not. "When I moved here, I was bullied, pushed down stairs, abused..." he trailed off. "I decided to start a new life. A new name. A new beginning."

"But..." I couldn't say anything else.

Suddenly, Bowin pulled out a gun of his own. "For your own good, I am going to be the one to kill you."

So that was how it ends.

Two childhood best friends.

Now two attempted-murderers.

Only one of us would live.