The Assassin

Silently he waited and watched. Waiting for the perfect moment. Watching for the hit. I observed him stroke his sniper subconsciously. I then scanned the hillside for what felt like the millionth time. The sun was on the verge of setting - it had been directly above us when we had first arrived. I was beginning to get restless again. I peeked out over the rushes to see the run down house we were staking was still vacant.

"Stop moving," he mumbled to me, and then he sighed, "Rookies." He hadn't moved from the position he had taken more than ten hours ago, lying on his stomach propping himself up with his elbows, staring at the house in determination. Night was falling and his black clothes were becoming less conspicuous in the dark. I readjusted my black balaclava to be sure my blonde hair wouldn't give my position away. "Stop moving," he repeated, but he seemed slightly amused. He was very patient with me and as well as that he had not even blinked or had his attention drawn away from his target.

Then eventually, after what seemed like hours, came the sound of crunching gravel. He sat and listened and watched. Slowly, a blue salon car came into view. It halted outside the house. A tall, well dressed, middle aged man got out of the car. He looked around carefully and satisfied there was no one around he proceeded towards the dilapidated house.

As soon as the door was shut my mentor sprang to his feet and began making his way down to the house. I clumsily got up and followed him down the hillside. We were now under complete cover of darkness, which of course peeled for his outline in the shadows, as well as keeping an eye on where exactly I was going. Without warning, a dark figure ran out in front of me and I felt my feet slip from beneath me.

I slid down the remainder of the hill getting covered in mud, leaves and debris from head to toe. Then I felt myself come to an abrupt stop halfway down the hill and I was yanked back. It took me quite a bit of time to realise I had gotten caught in a blackberry bush and that I had managed to get my left arm completely wrapped up in briars, which was stinging me and tearing my clothes.

"What are you playing at?" I quickly looked up to see him crouched above me freeing my arm. "You seriously need to develop some skills if you want to do this for a living!" he hissed, but even in the vast darkness I could see his mouth twitch. "Stay low." he muttered. I stooped down to stay in the shadows to be sure I was less visible.

Once we reached the foot of the hill, he gestured towards a large sycamore tree and we took cover under it. He aimed the large sniper accurately at the man in the house. I felt my heart thudding in my chest and I almost stopped breathing for fear of the man hearing me. "This is it then, Matt." I murmured to him. He glanced at me for a minute, and then thrust the gun at me. "You do it Ally."

I stared at the sniper and delicately took it from him, as if it was a fragile antique. I shakily looked through the sight of the gun and followed the man with the little red dot. My breathing got heavier as I guided my index finger nearer the trigger. "Do it," he said encouragingly, "this is what you've been waiting all day for Ally."

I kept my hand on the gun, not moving my finger from the trigger, focusing the dot on the man's chest. I almost brought myself to do it, when I heard the man laugh at something. A woman came over to him and put her arms around him. I moved a fraction to peer inside the house - my curiosity had gotten the better of me. I was horrified to see a pink crib in the corner of the room.

I lowered the gun slightly. I knew in my heart I wasn't going to be able to do it. "Hurry up," he said impatiently, he was beginning to lose his temper, "what are you waiting for?" I was torn, I felt like an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. "Don't do it," I thought, "how can I do this?" "Do it," he said angrily, "What are you waiting for? They'll see you!" I looked from the couple to the family and back again.

All of a sudden I heard a piercing scream from the house and felt the gun being snatched from me. I heard a shot being fired, a loud thud and a scream - louder and more upset than the last. I have never forgotten that scream. I looked at his face, at a person who could be so warm and kind, a person I thought I knew. But I didn't recognise him. His face was almost robotic - no sign of regret, anger or even satisfaction. It was emotion-free. I didn't know this man.