December 19th, Oxford.
His name was Ivan. He was a Russian hired assassin and he had one mission: to assassinate a fourteen year old boy. But there was a catch; it had to look like an accident. He rounded a corner and strode down a small alley way that would of only fit went over the plan in his head. The boy was timed to arrive in about three minutes. It was simple; he would creep up, smash the boy's head on the door, the place a big rock right behind his feet. It would look like he badly tripped and smashed his head.
"Yeah! Well, see ya tomorrow, Alex!" Alex, that was his name.
Ivan picked up his pace and stood out into an avenue decorated with Christmas lights, did Ivan care? No. There didn't seem to be anyone around one or two cars, but that was it.
Just as Alex was about to swing the door open Ivan shouted.
"Excuse me!" Ivan gathered pace, heading towards his target.
"Me?" Alex Asked as he turned away from the door. That was his first mistake.
"Yes," replied Ivan through gritted teeth. He loved to scare his targets before he killed them. Alex started stepping backwards towards the wall. That was his second mistake.
When he was in range, Ivan lashed out to grab Alex but his hand never made contact. Instead he felt a pain to his stomach as he doubled back and tripped over the edge of the walkway. He stared at the end of a gun point and realized; this was the end. Then - nothing.

