Hey ppls...Me back this time with a collaborative piece of(what I think is) literature.This short story has actually been (in most part) written by my good friend Ashish(who's here with me in IITK).I just came by and screwed up his story actually....but he seems to like it...so i sure do hope tht u guys do.....Its my first attempt at a proper short story...especially in this genre. Thank Ludlum, Coliin Forbes and all those thrillers that I've read for my inspiration. And please try to read the entire thing now that ur here already...
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Chapter #71
The assassin removed the lock pick from the hole and pushed the door open. He stepped out onto the sprawling rooftop of the building. From here he would get a clear shot of his target. He went to the edge of the roof and found an ideal vantage point. He unpacked his suitcase and assembled his XL088 sniper rifle. Through the high telescopic zoom, he could get a clear shot of the stage some 10,000 yards away. He target would be arriving soon. The only thing left to do now was wait.
"Fuck you woman, are you fucking retarded? Who gets all the money in the house? Who gives you the green so you can go and buy the petty little things you want? ME! Take this! And this!" His father had come home drunk again. He was beating his Mom with his leather belt. The whipping sounds ran through his ears like icy cold shards. He would beat his Mom until her skin became raw white and bled. And then he would come and beat him. He would have been afraid had the whole charade not been so routine.
When his agency got the assignment to kill the Mafia drug lord from a rival gang, it was passed onto their most skilled and dangerous agent-him. He knew it would be one of his most challenging missions yet. Being at the top of the gangster hierarchy, the drug lord was obviously well guarded. But there was a much bigger problem in this case- identity. Nobody knew who he was. Nobody knew who was pulling the strings for the whole cartel. He loved such challenges. He lived for them. He would relish this kill.
Very soon, his mother committed suicide. In her note, she blamed her husband for the atrocities committed upon her and cited them as the reason for her death. Very soon after that, his father went behind bars. He was sent to a foster care home for boys whose parents were involved in crime.
They were taken to a large dark room in the basement by three of the guards. The guards unzipped their trousers. One of them said, "You three kids look thirsty." Another chuckled, "Why don't we give them something to drink then, huh? Enjoy it while you can kids...."
He was standing in front of a ramshackled building with tinted windows. He went round to the inconspicuous back door - he had been here before. The lady at the counter asked,"Ah Herr!Was kann ich fuer Sie tun?"He smiled wickedly and said, "The usual." He opened the door and stepped inside. She was lying there, hands tied to the bedpost, her flaming red hair running wild over her milky skin. He looked into her hazel eyes. The beast inside him was awakening. His carnal desire overpowered him. Her eyes widened as he unclasped his belt. He saw the fear in her eyes, the raw naked terror that surged through her. It turned him on even more. Just as the feel of guns did. He was reminded of the first time he held one is his hand.....
The assassin and three of his friends made a scheme to escape. One of them knew about a secret cache of guns hidden in the old warehouse. They sneaked out of the dining quarters at night and stole some .45 barretas. They would use it to shoot the padlocked exit. They formulated their scheme for escape at night. It would be done tomorrow. They would escape at the break of dawn before the guards checked their rooms. But their plan failed. One of the patrolling guards got whiff of their conversation. They were caught jumping over the perimeter fence in the morning. They ran. Ran as fast as they could to the exit. One of them shot the lock. It didn't budge. It would need more firepower. The guards were chasing them. One of them was almost upon them. The assassin did not want to be caught again. He wanted to escape from the abuse, from the nightmares. He aimed his gun and shot the running guard between the eyes. BAM! Blood was oozing all over his face. The guard crashed to his knees and fell flat on his face. His skull cracked and spinal fluid mixed with the blood which now had drenched his entire body.
And then something arcane happened. The assassin loved it. He loved the sensation of the gun in his hands firing a bullet. He loved the easiness with which he just took his tormentor's life. He loved the feeling of superiority, of domination. He targeted the other guards. By now, they had stopped running towards him. They were just standing still, away from them, telling him to drop the gun and escape without any more casualties. The assassin laughed to himself. How the hunter becomes the hunted. How he pleas when the tables are turned against him. But he would not show any mercy. BAM! The second guard fell, he caught him just above his left eye. Blood splattered on the wall. Bone splinters and brain tissue was now slowly being covered by the fiery red fluid. Now the third was alone. He looked at the assassin. In his eyes, the assassin could see raw, naked fear, the kind of fear one could only experience in the face of death. He could see those eyes begging for another chance. But the assassin already knew what he was going to do. He smiled. BAM!
The first thing he would have to do was to infiltrate the gang. From intel sources, he found out about a high profile gathering which was going to take place at the pier. The mayor was throwing a party to celebrate the economical progress made by the city in the past year. All the big players would be there. But the party was also the venue for a high-profile drug exchange between the Mafia and the Yakuza. His target would be there as well, though he would be invisible to his eyes. Getting an invitation for the the party was easy enough, he just asked for a favour from many of his high-placed friends for whom he had carried out hits before.
He carried out some reconnaissance work on the ship. But it was useless. The ring leaders, let alone the low breeds had no idea who their leader was. They simply called him Shina. All he could decipher was that there was one person who communicated to Shina directly, the capo. He would have to get to the leader through him. He could kidnap him now, and interrogate him about the leader's whereabouts later. But he would have to dispose of him later and that would make the other gangsters suspicious, most of all Shina. It would also be a messy approach, leading to unnecessary collateral damage. There was no reason to get him now. There was a much simpler way. He stealthily placed a transmitter under the bumper of the Capo's car.
With the transmitter in place, he could follow the Capo like a shadow. His plan was to follow his movements for a while, then strike him when he was most vulnerable. He followed the dot on the GPS screen for a couple of days, trying to chalk out his routine. But there was something suspicious about the places he was visiting. Suddenly it all made sense. He understood. He made a couple of phone calls. He had his man.
Though nobody worked with him closely- he could not afford any close contacts- the people who had communicated with him always felt terror at the chill in his voice. They all described him as a cold calculating killing machine, which was probably true. Circumstances had turned him into this. He enjoyed what he did, he liked being the harbinger of death for the high and mighty. It made him feel powerful. He had a habit of calling his kills 'chapters'. He had a book where he wrote down the details of all his hits chapter by chapter. He liked to think of his life as that book. He had a fetish for expanding it- adding one more page, one more chapter.
Shina was the mayor. He was there on the ship, making a speech about the developments made in the commerce sector in the past few months. But he was actually overseeing the whole deal. He could have killed him right there on the ship, he could have poisoned his food. But it didn't matter. He was here. The mayor would be delivering a speech to the public about a new trade reform in Central Square. He was half a block away, and many stories high. Through his lens, he had a view of the whole ceremony. He was waiting. Then the mayor came on stage. The adrenaline started pumping through his veins. This was the feeling he lived for. The same feeling he experienced when he shot the guards. It was like cocaine, only much better. He had to feel it again. He adjusted his scope and got the mayor's temple in his crosshair. He adjusted the stock, steadied his aim and took a deep breath.
Then he pulled the trigger.
In a moment, the mayor slumped to the floor like a rag doll. The stage became red with blood. The people panicked and started running. There was chaos everywhere. The mayor's bodyguards searched around for the killer. But it was futile. The assassin packed his weapon and left the roof without a trace, like a shadow. Another chapter had been written.
When in juvenile prison, he had no visitors. His parents were the only persons he knew. But one day someone had come to see him. An old man,
"Son, all I can say is that I am proud of what you did in the foster home. You stood up for yourself. You acted like a man. You are a born killer. You feel no remorse. You feel no pity. We need people like you. Join me; I'll get you out of here. You'll start a new life, one full of adventures. I have contacts in places the police can't even dream of reaching. So what's it going to be? Yes or no?"
The assassin looked at the old man. In his eyes he could see madness, the same kind of madness he felt with a gun in his hand, the kind of madness that absolute power brings. He smiled.
"Yes", he said.
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Till literature decides to smile upon me again...
