Paid for My Sins
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Somewhere across New York City, a figure clad in black crouches on a rooftop, patiently waiting for the right time. The right time to pull the trigger on the unsuspecting father of two, making drinks for himself and his wife.
Name: Arthur Gregory Miller.
Age: 48.
Ethnicity: White.
Occupation: Business man, buying and selling on large companies.
Reason for killing: Unknown.
He almost never knew the reason for the wanted deaths of his targets. He just had to do it. It was very simple really, a necessity. When they had happy families, it always bothered him. He preferred having no one in the way to potentially distract him. Just as this thought crossed his mind, a little girl in pink pyjamas came running in. The mother left to put her back to bed, now was the time. It was always better to do it when there wasn't anyone else in the way. Besides, even he didn't want the family to see it happening, other humans were more fragile than himself. This he knew, understood, very well.
In two seconds a man was dead. A target down.
In two seconds, a wife had lost her husband and the father of her children.
In two seconds, two little girls had lost their father.
In five seconds, a figure was packed up and gone from the rooftop, no traces of him to be found.
Returning to his hotel, placing his things carefully in the now boobie-trapped room, then leaving to sit at the bar and wait for that call, he thought of a short prayer for the dead man, asking god to forgive him for whatever sins he had committed, that had made his employer want him to kill him.
He didn't believe in God, it was just routine, a way of not letting his emotion interfere with the next job at hand. Not that it ever did, since he was a young teenager, Cam had been so good at separating his emotions from his actions, that he had forgotten them completely, leaving him only with his actions. But the little routine just put him at ease, settled his mind into knowing that it would definitely not happen. A presence, a scent of a too heavily applied perfume, and a voice of a woman snapped him away from his thoughts. She leant on the bar next to him, flicking her hair back.
"You've been thinking too hard for last ten minutes....I could almost hear the cogs turning in there." She giggled and tapped his head gently with a perfectly manicured nail. He just nodded and she flicked her hair again.
"So what are you here on...business...or pleasure?" Had it been another night, he probably would have said some sickeningly cliche line to get her into bed, he'd fuck her just for the fun of it, and then leave, and she wouldn't know until the next morning. However on this night, he couldn't afford to do so.
"Business." She smiled.
"What do you do?"
"A very simple job I'm afraid, apologies, I need to take this." He stood and walked away, answering his ringing phone.
"Your next target is a 32 year old male. Johnson Willis. 146 tenth avenue. You have the rest of the files on him?" The fake voice asked. In his twenty seven years, he'd never actually seen his employer, or heard his voice.
"Yes." He hung up and stalked off, all business as usual.
He felt irritable the whole way there, which annoyed him further. He didn't want to be distracted by emotion. The trouble was, the way the buildings were set out here, he'd have to get into the apartment before he could kill him. That wasn't a problem. Of course, but it meant that the last thing the target would see, would be him. And, while it didn't make him uncomfortable, Cam just preferred it if they didn't.
The target was at home, of course. His employer would have them watched all day, and only call him and tell him the address once the target was at home, ready to be taken out.
Scaling the building was easy. Two security guards eating donuts and watching last weeks baseball game. Taking the east stairwell, apartments 100, 110, 120, 140....146.
Two deep breaths, and in, we, go.
Name: Arthur Gregory Miller.
Age: 48.
Ethnicity: White.
Occupation: Business man, buying and selling on large companies.
Reason for killing: Unknown.
He almost never knew the reason for the wanted deaths of his targets. He just had to do it. It was very simple really, a necessity. When they had happy families, it always bothered him. He preferred having no one in the way to potentially distract him. Just as this thought crossed his mind, a little girl in pink pyjamas came running in. The mother left to put her back to bed, now was the time. It was always better to do it when there wasn't anyone else in the way. Besides, even he didn't want the family to see it happening, other humans were more fragile than himself. This he knew, understood, very well.
In two seconds a man was dead. A target down.
In two seconds, a wife had lost her husband and the father of her children.
In two seconds, two little girls had lost their father.
In five seconds, a figure was packed up and gone from the rooftop, no traces of him to be found.
Returning to his hotel, placing his things carefully in the now boobie-trapped room, then leaving to sit at the bar and wait for that call, he thought of a short prayer for the dead man, asking god to forgive him for whatever sins he had committed, that had made his employer want him to kill him.
He didn't believe in God, it was just routine, a way of not letting his emotion interfere with the next job at hand. Not that it ever did, since he was a young teenager, Cam had been so good at separating his emotions from his actions, that he had forgotten them completely, leaving him only with his actions. But the little routine just put him at ease, settled his mind into knowing that it would definitely not happen. A presence, a scent of a too heavily applied perfume, and a voice of a woman snapped him away from his thoughts. She leant on the bar next to him, flicking her hair back.
"You've been thinking too hard for last ten minutes....I could almost hear the cogs turning in there." She giggled and tapped his head gently with a perfectly manicured nail. He just nodded and she flicked her hair again.
"So what are you here on...business...or pleasure?" Had it been another night, he probably would have said some sickeningly cliche line to get her into bed, he'd fuck her just for the fun of it, and then leave, and she wouldn't know until the next morning. However on this night, he couldn't afford to do so.
"Business." She smiled.
"What do you do?"
"A very simple job I'm afraid, apologies, I need to take this." He stood and walked away, answering his ringing phone.
"Your next target is a 32 year old male. Johnson Willis. 146 tenth avenue. You have the rest of the files on him?" The fake voice asked. In his twenty seven years, he'd never actually seen his employer, or heard his voice.
"Yes." He hung up and stalked off, all business as usual.
He felt irritable the whole way there, which annoyed him further. He didn't want to be distracted by emotion. The trouble was, the way the buildings were set out here, he'd have to get into the apartment before he could kill him. That wasn't a problem. Of course, but it meant that the last thing the target would see, would be him. And, while it didn't make him uncomfortable, Cam just preferred it if they didn't.
The target was at home, of course. His employer would have them watched all day, and only call him and tell him the address once the target was at home, ready to be taken out.
Scaling the building was easy. Two security guards eating donuts and watching last weeks baseball game. Taking the east stairwell, apartments 100, 110, 120, 140....146.
Two deep breaths, and in, we, go.
♠ ♠ ♠
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