Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for violence and mature content.
“Target sited, ”I informed into a small handheld radio.”I hear ya, take care of me and I’ll wire the money to your account little lady, ”A gruff voice responded back
”Copy that, ”I replied looking into the scope of a rifle.
Aiming the gun carefully at the back of an older males head. A nursery rhyme began to chime through my mind with my finger on the trigger.
I hummed some the first few words than sung the last few allowed, ”Pop goes the weasel”.A loud bang rang throughout the air as the man fell down on his knees, blood splattering everywhere. A woman beside him caught most of it on her shirt, and she let out a horrified shriek as a result. Stuffing the gun casually in a duffel bag that was laying by my leg, I snuck away from the scene of the murder. I took a right after walking several minutes on a sidewalk and then found myself in an alleyway.
Pulling a tarp off of a medium sized object I pulled something out of my pocket, Keys. I smiled as I eyed a rather tricked out motorcycle, my motorcycle. Hopping onto the piece of machinery I started it up, drove out of the alleyway and down the road.
My lineage ran back to a long line of Assasins, even my parents had taken part in the business growing up. There was no room for error in my upbringing or my training, excellence was expecting from me, after all, I was the next generation. They were long gone now, not that I cared anyway, It was hard to feel sad when they were never around you in the first place. Many times when I was younger I would be left alone with my instructor or my nanny, Amelia Riverdale. She was a fierce and unfeeling woman and quite a force to be dealt with.
She had raised me, not my parents so of course when she had passed I was somewhat upset. She had been the only one I could show my emotions around and be myself. Since then I've just been on my own enveloping myself in my line of work. None of my employers know what my outside Identity is. I'm an orphan living by myself in an apartment complex just scraping by working as a cashier is what the outside thinks but as you can tell that is far from the truth.
I do work as a cashier part-time and I do live in an apartment. I try to avoid getting close to anyone as to not let feeling get in the way of my life. I have been through schooling, homeschool and I'm currently twenty-two.
Hearing a loud ping I pulled off onto a sidewalk pulling out my phone, the money had indeed been put into my account."Good", I told myself putting it back in my pocket.
Reaching my hand back on the keys I when't to start the bike back up but I stopped momentarily, something moving in a box in an alley had caught my eye. Walking toward it cautiously, I now had my rifle out of the duffel bag prepared to shoot it if it attacked me. Peeking my head over the side of the box, a loud thump occurred,I had dropped my gun on the ground.
My eyes were round with shock, an emotion I hadn't shown in so long, "What in gods name is that?!?!