Young Writers Society

Evil, Monster, Murderer, Killer, Hired hit man. Assassin. Call me what you like. I've heard it all before. I've seen the looks people give me when they realize what I am. Who I am. A cold hearted killer. An emotionless monster. The thoughts don't last long. And neither do they. Not once they know what I am. Because they can't be left alive one they know. They'll be too much of a problem if I let them live. 

But those weren't the thoughts running through my head as I stood in front of my latest target. He wore the same expression that so many other's before him had. The fear, the anger. But he still wore that arrogant look. Like he didn’t actually believe that i'd pull the trigger of the hand gun I held in my left hand, pointed straight at his heart. Even from the few feet in front of him I was standing, I knew if I chose to pull the trigger it would be a kill shot. But even that wasn't the thought running through my head. That thought, was of how much of an idiot he was. Most target's usually were. Despite the fact most of them were meant to be geniuses. Scientists, Ex assassins, Spies. They were all meant to be smart, yet for some reason they all seemed to decide that the moment a hit was put out for them. The moment someone wanted them dead. They went into hiding. Which sure, it's a good plan. Just not when they decide the best place to hide is in an abandoned building with minimum security. But then again, by the point someone has a hit on their name. They're overly paranoid, trusting no more than a select few. Making my job so much easier.

At least the guy had taste though. I could give him that much. He'd chosen a newly foreclosed house. Meaning he still had all the luxuries he was accustomed to. Whilst also being ever so slightly harder to find. But it was still way too easy to find him. But what else could be expected when it came to the fake genius billionaire that had only gotten to where he was in the world by using other people's ideas. And then having them murdered. He didn't even have the decency to kill them himself. Then again, neither had the people who actually wanted him dead. I was just here to carry out on their orders.

I'd have killed the guy already. I'd had plenty of chances to. The moment he stepped out of the house for some fresh air with four guards surrounding him. A quick sniper to the head would have taken him out, the tree's would have made a good height for that. And no one would have known from which direction it actually came from. I could have stabbed him in the back. Literally. When he walked past the spot i'd hidden in in his safe house. He didn't even notice me. I could have killed him so many times over just in that day. Except the people that had employed me were sadistic assholes who liked to dangle people's lives in front of them. In short, they wanted a confession from him. And they didn't care how I got it.

"Now, Mr Albertson" I spoke condescendingly to him. The fake Russian accent slipping into my voice, making it sound as though I was trying to hide an accent rather than adopting a fake one. It was a precaution, a rather pointless one but a precaution all the same. If he somehow managed to escape all he'd have to go on would be a blonde Russian woman. Neither of which were true. I wasn't Russian and I certainly wasn't a natural blonde. Then again, my appearance had changed so often I could have been for all I knew. "This is how this is going to work. This can end in two. Well three ways really..."

"Is this what it's come to?" The older man spat. The greying hair gave Mr. James Albertson the look of a kindly old grandparent. The fat stomach only added to the idea of a jolly old man. His eyes however, usually a warm brown for the public were dark and challenging. Like he didn't believe I was capable of doing any of what this job entailed. But he was the one sitting securely tied to a chair whilst I pointed a gun at him. "They send children to do adult's jobs now?" The comment didn't bother me, I'd heard the same comment a million times before. The humourless laugh escaped me. It was the sort of laugh that told a person that they were in trouble. And despite the fact he was an old man with more experience than I did. Despite the fact I was a 16 year old girl who looked like I could be snapped in half by a pinkie. James Albertson looked scared.

"As I was saying" I could hear the clipped sound that came from my voice. Controlled. "You have three options. One, you give me your confession straight off. No messing around, no ...Unpleasant hours. And I let you leave. My employers aren't unreasonable people Mr. Albertson, all we want is a confession. The second option is I kill you now, they won't be very happy I didn't get a confession but they'll get over it"

"And the third option?" He asked almost hesitantly

"We do spend some unpleasant hours together. I get my confession and then I kill you" I shrugged like it was obvious.

"I knew you Russians were cold hearted" He spat. "I just didn't realize you were born that way"

Ignoring his comment I stared at him expectantly, waiting for his choice. When it didn't come I raised my gun ever so slightly higher

"I had them killed ok!" He snapped noticing the movement. "I had many people killed to get where I am today. None of my idea's were my own."

"There! Was that so difficult" I fake smiled as I slipped my gun into the waist band of my trousers. I flounced across to where he was tied up and he visibly relaxed. The sly smirk made it's way onto my face as I began to untie the ropes at the back of the chair slowly.

"See Mr. Albertson, there's a few things you should know about me before we finish up here" I chatted away as I pretended to loosen the ropes "One. I'm really not a natural blonde" I let one of the spare pieces of rope fall the the ground, making an echoing sound through the building. "Two. I'm really not Russian" The accent dropped through the sentence. He tensed up and I lent forward until I was right beside his head. "And three. I'm a known Liar" Before he had the time to question it. Before he had a chance to even catch up with what i'd said. I pulled the trigger.

James Albertson slumped forward as the ringing stopped leaving the building in a stunned silence. The smirk made it's way off of my face as I stopped, staring at the still body before me. The only signs of humanity I let myself show.

"You can come out now" I finally called out coolly, clicking the safety on and placing the gun back into my waistband. Nothing happened for a moment, until one by one small figures stood up moving out of their hiding places. By the time they'd gathered around there were about eight, 12 year olds gathered round. "I only agreed with the company to bring you with me if you didn't get me caught. You almost did" I stated coldly. They hung their heads, keeping their gazes low and away from mine. They really were spineless, that would have to be knocked out of them before they were ready for this.

"Questions?" I barked making them jump, their heads snapping towards me as they exchanged glances before the brunette at the back of the group spoke up, more of a squeak than proper words. It took a minute before i managed to decipher what the hell she was trying to say.

"W...whydidyoulietohim?"Her words joined together making it harder to figure out what she was saying.

"To avoid torture. It's time consuming and repetitive. And only works 9 times out of 10. Sometimes it's better to give the targets hope, no matter how false it is. They see us as nothing more than children, they're more inclined to believe we'll set them free rather than kill them." I replied matter of factly, it had been something i'd learned over the last few years. Some people really were that stupid. "Any other questions? No? Then let's get out of here"

"What about the body?" One of the boys asked. Honestly I didn't know who he was.

"He's well known, better for them to find the body" I replied with a shrug as I pushed my way through the group and out of the door of the building.