Stories in Minutes

The Target

'You haven't seen nothin' yet", he say.

"Yeah, you're nothing at all", I say, rolling my eyes.

He gives me a confused look and mutters, "Whatever."

Peter switches the safety off his laser gun and positions it at a wall near the window of a hotel room.

I shake my head and bite my tongue. The target's not even here yet. If he aims that thing at anyone, I swear...

Laser guns used to be popular but they're rare nowadays. It weighs 250 grams in my hands that a five-year old can carry and shoot anyone within a five-mile radius. Dangerous, I know.

Speaking of dangerous, I catch Peter playing with his gun. He points it at a little girl eating ice cream. I curse the day I accepted this piece of mediocrity of a partner. I yank the gun away.

"Are you out of your mind?!" I yell-whisper at Peter.

"Sorry."

I look back at the window we're supposed to be watching. Odd. The mission said the target should be in the room by now. Something flashes in my eyes, temporarily blinding me.

Peter suddenly pushes me that I almost lose my gun. What the—?

By the time my sight recovers, I see a dark stain spreading in his sleeve.

"Target's here", he grits out.

I look to the window.

The target's holding a gun like ours. I know him. The boy from twenty years ago who killed his neighbours. He's the reason laser gun production was stopped.

I am the reason he killed those people – his first kill and definitely not his last.

My heartbeat speeds up. The client who ordered the hit was...

I'm the target.

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A/N: Hmm... I feel like something's missing here. What could it be?

- CeBea

280 words.

10 July 2015