Like I've said this is the first piece of fiction that I've attempted to write. I've not given thought to character development or anything - I'm good at that, regularly invent characters without any sort of plot. This is mainly to see how my plot works. I would like a lot of constructive critism seeing as this is my very first attempt. So please... fire when ready.
It was written for a contest, but I wanted to see what kind of reception it would get when analysed. So here goes.
Michael awoke prematurely; the beads of perspiration were running in streams down his face into his mouth – the bitter taste of salt was nothing compared to what was to come. He stumbled out of his bed; he went over to the curtains and pulled them apart, expecting to see thunder, and torrential downpour. Ironically, the sky was clear and the air was humid. Then, the clunking fist punched his door just once. Michael knew immediately what that meant.
“So, is this it?” enquired Hannah. Michael had been unaware that she had woken up; he had other things on his mind. While reaching underneath his bed to pull out his kit, Michael nodded. Never before had he worried so much. As he got dressed Hannah kissed him on the neck, knowing that he would never have the opportunity to tell her again he spoke of his “undying love” for her. Undying? His sardonic choice of words was entertaining to say the least. It was the break of dawn – the moment of reckoning! He departed without uttering another word.
“Knife? Check. Blowtorch? Check….” Michael said while he checked his rucksack, he was prepared. However, he knew that his rivals would be prepared too perhaps more so. The motorcade pulled up down the main street, in a few moments he would need to make his move.
“NOW!” A rugged unknown shouted - this perplexed Michael.
He had known that there would be competition; after all he was only one of a whole army of assassins. He hoped he would be stealth about it, that he could stick to his own plan but the rivals had pre-empted him.
“Damnit” he cursed as he charged down the street with his equipment.
The motorcade came to a halt and the bodyguards go out, the aimed their weapons at the prey.
The competition emerged from the shadows.
One down, Michael used his sawn-off shotgun to kill, the lifeless corpse collapsed reminiscent a baronets with it’s strings cut. He could see that the bodyguards had been taken down – things just got interesting.
Only three assassins remained; Michael was heavily weakened when he was stabbed to the calf. The others knew that he would be done for. The tallest of the pair walked over smugly to finish the job, he grabbed him and using his own blowtorch burned his wound. Michael tried to stifle his screams but the searing pain was unbearable, he let out a horrific squeal. Using the knife the other chopped away his two index fingers. “I’d like to see him pull the trigger now!” One laughed - to Michael’s horror - these assassins were, and always were working together.
Then, the two most angelic noises he’s ever had the good fortune of hearing. His ordeal was over, his captors were crumpled to the floor and Hannah with a smoking pistol smiled.
“Thanks, love, now… lets finish the job” gleefully instructed Michael still wincing in the extreme pain.
“No!” One solitary gunshot was fired. Michael’s eyes were still bright, but he would never see out of them again. “I’ll finish it myself.” Hannah proclaimed, as she opened the car door, looking into the eyes of her next victim.