• Hit
    By: HAZARD13
    Life as a hitman is not easy. Its has good pay but the work stinks. Usually you get paid a thousand to a hundred thousand dollars depending who it is. Or I get paid in "equipment". But when you work for an agency your life is like a fishing line. When you're no longer needed they cut you loose. A hitmans life is not for money, the kill, the glory, but to survive. I have succesfully eliminated every one of my targets. Although I live in a run-down low class apartment I have what I need to survive. Memories cover my room. Each paper after another has then identification of who had been gunned down mysteriously. All 50 names in the last 6 months. It gets hard to sleep but I must stay inside my security blanket. But one call can get me out of there. The last night I went out was the last night I would see that place again for now I am running. Heres my story:

    The date is April 23rd, 1992 and 3:59 am. I get a call from my boss. "You're needed. There is a man in a Blue suit. Central FCU building. 12th floor. 5th window from the left. You have 800 hours to get the job done" and the line goes dead.

    Getting dressed, taking my gun and phone I head out the door and put the apaprtment key in my pocket even though I dont know that it will be the last time I step out that door. Finally, on top of the Job Centre building right across from the FCU. Putting on my scope, taking a deep breath, getting up on my feet, and waiting. The time is now 9:52. The busy streets go nuts as the horns blare and the sun shines. People are like ants on the sidewalks and the buildings shine. I await my target to appear. The time is 11:57. Two minutes till he arrives. I quckly drink some water and check my phone. 30 seconds till time. Sweat comes down my neck as I look through the scope carefully. Time.

    A bullet buzzes. A sound of a gunshot rips through the air. People scream, point, dial 911, panick and flee from the sound the gun has made. But my barrell is not hot. It is warm from the heat of the sun but it is not hot. No smoke comes out of the barrell. The glass of the window is not shattered. There is no man in a blue suit where my sight is. No one is there. I did not shoot. Then my mind starts buzzing as I realize what just happened. There was no man in a blue suit. The FCU was closed today. The window was about to be wiped. I did not shoot.

    I feel a aching pain in my arm. I look at my left arm and see a stream of crimson dropping to the floor next to me. I realize that there was only one target. One target to see in 800 hours. There was only one man on the top of a building today, open and unprotected. As I finally look up to my left I see a shine with a man behind it. They cut me loose. I was the target. I whisper "I've been hit..." The time is now 12:00pm