This is the first 2 paragraphs from a story I am currently writing, entitled "The Assasin" (Likely to change)
1
The man perched himself on a small patch of tiles at the top of the building.He had been following his target for 2 entire months, and for what; a ten second job for some easy money? "No" he thought to himself.He brushed a hand through his infinite black hair, feeling the sweat from the sheer anticipation of what he was about to do.
At the same time, the target sat inside a posh restaurant, enjoying a portion of cheesecake.His name was Teuril Mensuta, and he was a well respected businessman. Unfortunatley, Teuril tended to do as he willed, regardless of who he offended. Little did he know this meal would be his last, and as he exited the restaurant, the assasin's plan commenced.
The door to the restaurant swung open and the man who had been so calm instantly reacted. Standing, he proceeded to jump from the top of the building, snatching a small, slender H&K USP from his trouser pocket and shooting once. The bullet hit with perfect accuracy to the forehead.
Of the wrong man.
The assasin landed softly on the floor, distributing his weight. "Denzel Avens, I shoukd have known." Teuril said, his voice tainted with hatred. "What is your problem with me?" He asked, never breaking eye contact. Denzel found it hard to match this, but still spoke softly and calmly. "I know what you're doing Mensuta. I know all about your plans to bring back the Celands" Teuril glared at him. "What's your point?" He whispered after what felt like an eternity to Denzel. "The point is" Replied Denzel, raising his pistol "That you aren't going to see tomorrow."
Another bullet was fired, and the now silent and still corpse of Teuril Mensuta dropped to the floor.
2
Denzel was a man of skill, an expert in his field. It was no wonder then, that instead of sleeping that night, he stayed up wondering how he managed to miss Teuril from such close quaters. "It was just a bad shot" He reassured himself over and over, untill the sun finally began to splinter across the earth, and Denzel Avens was yet again to get up and see his boss.
Skipping breakfast, he proceeded to dress hurriedly, throwing on a brand new jacket and grabbing the nearest watch to him. He headed down to his sleek silver Audi R8, making sure he wasn't being watched or followed; in his line of work, it was particularly easy to make enemies, so Denzel was always cautious of his surroundings.
After 20 minutes of driving through some of the most covert routes Denzel had ever known, he reached his bosses headquaters, and as he rolled up quietly to the door, he could have sworn he saw a glimpse of someone run away into the nearby woods.
Someone or something.
Something familiar.
Snapping out of his daze, he swiftly moved to the door and knocked three times, slowly and exactly, always striking the same postition. The door swung open and a tall, bold, executive looking man stepped out and grabbed Denzel's hand, pulling him into the rather violent handshake Denzel had become accustomed to everytime he met this man. The man of course was his boss, A Mr O'Neil. Originally from ireland, he moved to London after the murder of his wife and children and began a business in assasination. Denzel had always been fond of Mr O'Neil. Everyone always expected him to be some crazy bloodthirsty man, but really he was just a human being with a terrible, corrupted past.
Finally releasing his grip, he looked at Denzel and said peacefully "Lets go for a walk.We need to talk"
Comments and Criticism welcome.
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