Shadow's Within

3 : Second chance is a waste of trying

The day turn sideways as fast as I hope it could be. Now it's night. The moon had overrun the sun for the day. I went back into the building. The Daily Times, one of the leading newspaper companies in New York. I slipped past the guards the same way I did yesterday, disguising myself as the editor whom card I had stolen and clone for my own purposes. With the help of an amber color wig and a few extension and voila, I became Carly Portman, a 31 years old editor.

Walking past the guards was as easy as cake, normally people would say pie, but honestly, I hate pies. Steadying myself, I walk confidently towards the stygian hall and come to a stop to the elevator. Triggering the button with my finger I waited for the elevator descent from beneath.

I enter the 7th floor for the second time in two days. The hall is exactly like yesterday. The same aqua paint on the wall with a few frames hanging on the wall motioning the various award the writers had achieved from past years.

Quietly I trudge along the dark hallway. I couldn't see past the darkness. Thankfully my years of training had prepared me in this situation. Once my training had me contained within a perimeter of darkness for days with no source of light. I had to scavenge for any food that cannot be seen and evade attacks that I could not perceived with my peripheral vision. Compared to that training, walking along this hall seems like vacation for me.

Within a few walking distance, a feint light came flooding the darkness away. The light came from an open door. The room that held me in doubt. Inside that compartment, my target lay there. This is my moment. I had to do it right this time.

"Okay. You can do this!" a little encouragement from within.

I scooped up my courage and quickly put my back against the wall beside the door. I took a quick peek inside and I could see him. The target is looking away at the banks of window in his room enjoying the view. He was on his phone. I could hear a brief of his conversation.

"Yes....." he said. "I understand........ but" He continued. His voice falters as if he isn't enjoying the conversation on the phone. "That is out of the question!" He snapped. "Okay... fine...we can discuss this calmly...." The argument seems to continue. "NO! You are unbelievable.." He hang up his phone. "Asshole" He murmured.

He ran his finger over his hair. I could see his expression. He had dark spot beneath his eyes. Clearly he's under a lot of stress. His hair is ruffled in a motion of zigzag that isn't fashionable but more into conflict style. He pace himself back and forth before finally resting down on his sofa.

I slide inside using the shadow as a masquerade. I embrace the darkness as my own, and stay still hidden within waiting for the perfect chance. His problem kept him from noticing me coming silently behind. I crouch down, lowering my angle of figure from his vision. I would become his nightmare, a vampire of his own accord. I move my hand lethally inside the shadow, using the technique I had been trained.

From my pocket, I took out a silver box. I open the box and took out a tiny glimpse of needle. It's the same venom I had used on him yesterday. A paralyzing fluid that would make the person stays unconscious for a period of one hour with no sense of pain.

I swallow a dribble of saliva. Why in god names was I nervous. I'm never anxious when on a mission. What is happening to me. Was is the treat to my life that left me edgy and sketchy. The thought of me failing for a second time would bring that man into my life just to carry my death sentence.

I shook the thought out of my head. This is not the time to be thinking of such things. I need to be focused so I can carry my duty as an agent, to serve and conquer my mission.

My hands linger forward with the needle in my grasp. No sound radiated from me. The distance becoming very wary and shorter for me. I counted the distance in me. Five inches, four inches, three inches, two inches, one inches.

Finally the needle made landing to the man's neck. I pinch the needle further in his vein and he close his eyes like a baby. He fall head first onto the sofa curling his body.

"Easy" my inner pride beamed.

This time I would not fail. I produce my Beretta 92FS and shove it in his direction. The cock of the gun was now pinpointing on his forehead; the metal caressing his skin awaiting a click of my finger to blast its bullet into his brain.

For some reason, my nerve is on blockage. It wouldn't react to my command. My fingers would pull the trigger. I knew this doesn't bode well for me. I need to kill him, or I would be the subject of a kill from the organization. I clasp both hand into the gun and hoping I can gain more strength to shoot this way but again my hand fails me. The very hand that does my bidding for me. This hand once kill a man using nothing but a single strand of string. This hand had been washed by blood more than it has with water. Something was very off putting with this man. Why couldn't I conduct a simple procedure to kill a man, a target.

"Mpmhhhh" the man moan a voice.

I struck myself in surprise. "What? He's supposed to be out in an hour. Why is he regaining consciousness." My body panicked. Sweat pouring down on me. Slowly the man was waking up and he began moving his limbs and rubs his face before he was stuck awe by a figure standing before him pointing a gun towards him.

His eyes bulged at the sight of me. That moment,I knew I'm doomed. I had failed the mission a second time. My death isimminent.