The thunder crashed brutally and the rain pounded its furious fists against the rocky slope. Lightning flashed powerful signals into the night sky, causing the fierce thunder and malicious wind to retaliate; a violent war was breaking out. There he sat, watching; waiting for the eventful moment to arrive. Camouflaged with the darkness, he prowled across the hillside like a wild cat - he had to find the perfect spot. He could feel the cold wind on his dark, composed face; nothing could unnerve him. Droplets of rain smashed against his body and even this did not make him flinch as he sat down on the area that fufilled his desires. He continued to sit, silent and unmoving among the raging battle. Time appeared to have frozen until a lonesome car passed; breaking his stillness in an instant. He grabbed a deathly contraption from the ground, adjacent to him. The car passed. A false alert. Sighing deeply through his balaclava, he habitually caressed his beloved contraption with gloved hands. He listened intently to the angry thunder and hoped it would continue to clash, a diversion that would allow only a click to be heard. Only a click from the assassin's deadly sniper rifle ...
Surrounded by shadows, the massive house loomed in the never ending darkness; deserted for the moment. The assassin was unmoved by these desolate surroundings, on the contrary he seemed very much at home. Cold blue eyes scanned all that lay below, taking in every minor detail; observation was a key skill in this line of work. Grimy windows jeered as droplets of rain hit against them like lunging daggers. An army of weeds stood side by side, fighting off the whistling wind, overcrowding the dark silhouette that could only be the garden. The concrete path that led up to the house was dusty and there was no lamp posts or sources of light; it was apparant that the owner preferred solitude and darkness. Did someone actually live here? The thunder and lightning continued to fight, creating an atmosphere that was almost alive. The ghost of the house was at one with the wind; both moaning and screeching, as if they were in unbearable pain. Overcome with restlessness, the assassin stared into the night sky, watching the lightning and listening to the rain, drip drop, drip drop, drip drop. Suspense was choking him; he was having severe withdrawl symptoms for a kill; it was like a drug to him.Yet right now, it was only him amongst nature. Alone. Alone.
The momentary loneliness dissolved as a grubby green car carelessly drove along the country road. The assassin was immediately alert; he was an owl, waiting for his powerless prey, completely silent. Violent rain smashed off the car windscreen causing thick condensation to appear. The dull green paint was chipped, the mud disguising it; the rain hopelessly attempting to wash it off. The assassin could smell the fumes from the exhaust as he focused on the young woman that was barely visible, yet recognisable from her picture. He could rhyme off her profile perfectly; 5ft 6, long red hair, grey eyes, fair skin; somewhat of a beauty. Yet, how beautiful would she be dead? The car screeched as it pulled up into the muddy drive and the engine was turned off. The moment was drawing near; not long to go; the assassin could barely control his excitement; this after all was his hobby. Tick Tock, Tick Tock. The assassin could hear a clock inside his head counting down the minutes and seconds to go; smiling he picked up his best friend; the sniper rifle. He felt as relaxed as if he was putting a baby to sleep. Close comparison!
Oblivious to the fate that awaited her, she waltzed out the car - non-hesitant. She dodged the puddles that infested the concrete up to the shabby front door. The assassin scanned her movements with exhilaration. All his waiting was down to this moment. It had to be clean. It had to be quick. He lined the red laser up with her fair forehead and a surge of power charged through his soul as he observed her exposed vulnerability. The clock inside his head was ticking furiously; 3, 2, 1 ... As he had hoped, the thunder clashed with overwhelming power and a click ended a woman's life. Her delicate corpse lay as silent as the grave amidst a stream of red liquid and human tissue. The only colour left in the colourless corpse was her deep red hair camouflaged with blood. Her large grey eyes were open wide, unblinking and filled with unearthly horror. A large hole in her forehead grinned up at the assassin. Job done!
Smirking to himself, the assassin tenderley put the rifle in its case and swung it over his shoulder with practiced ease. The thunder and lightning came to a sudden halt, this war of nature had ended for the moment. The assassin looked down at the area where he had waited and kicked a few rocks back into place; vanishing any trace of his presence. He strolled down the hillside whistling, whilst breathing in the fresh morning air. His sports car waited reliably a few blocks away. He was proud of his clean kill; it had been an easy target.
A picture of a young woman toppling over like a helpless domino filled his mind and he licked his lips as if he could taste the sweet blood of his deceased victim. The feeling of a kill was unbeatable, seeing the victim lying there, no breath escaping from the body, no colour filling the face; this was why he was what he was - an assassin, heart and soul. He knew the momentum would pass soon, the desire for a future kill. He snickered aloud and unlocked the car door. Engine on, radio up, rifle under the seat, balaclava and gloves off; life was back to normal. The money was definitely his. He need not give any explanation on why he was chosen to kill this particular woman, he didn't even need to know her background story. He did his job without asking any questions, he was anynomous to the world, feared by many. He was an assassin.
