General Fiction posted January 31, 2018


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An assassin fails to take out his target

The Assassin's Debacle

by duaneculbertson


The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.

It was messy -- a mistake with dire consequences. This was not the target. Like a third eye opening to infinity, the terrible wound in his victim's forehead gushed upon the concrete. Stale air bearing traces of urine, grease, and diesel began to mingle with his thoughts. Until this moment, Raven's record had been flawless - failure a foreign concept, as unnatural as watching a mountain goat fall to its death.

What would they say back at the Syndicate? What would they do?

A horrible exit-wound in an otherwise serene visage stared back at him like a mocking void. His careful preparations meant nothing now -- the ejected cartridge from his silenced Walther PPK caught in the Ziploc bag, his hand shielded from gunshot residue by a disposable nitrile glove. For a fleeting moment, he wondered who the victim was; had he sensed anything before the bullet tore through the back of his skull?

Muffled sounds drew his attention, and a black form flashed before his eyes. Instinct saved him. Stepping forward, he blocked the descending club threatening to dash his reason; then countered by driving his fist into his attacker's ribcage, breaking bones and knocking the breath from his lungs. Raven wind-milled the arm, seized the club and struck his foe on the temple. The body slumped to the squalid floor, insensate. Dressed in black, the man resembled a ninja, even wearing rubber split-toed, tabi boots. As these details emerged, Raven realized he was not alone. Forms melted from the shadows. A safety roll bought him some time, as he positioned his back to the wall and faced his attackers. They did not want to kill him, otherwise he'd already be dead. The thought gave him hope, yet filled him with dread. What did they want? What information did they hope to extract?

They moved like dark storm clouds. Raven knew he must reclaim the initiative if he ever hoped to escape. Like a dancer, he jumped through the air and struck with both feet. The men on either side wilted, nursing their crushed testicles. Ducking a vicious punch from the remaining assailant, Raven countered with an immortal-man strike. The two-finger poke struck the carotid sinus in his opponent's neck. Like a discarded doll, the body slumped, the rapid drop in blood pressure causing immediate unconsciousness. The others shook off their pain and regained their footing, but they were too late - Raven was gone.

Flashing lights and loud noises approached from the end of the tunnel. It was the last train of the evening. Throwing himself to one side, Raven dove into a storm drain and slithered through. The rusting metal passage bit into his flesh, but he was grateful for finding this refuge. Labored breathing behind spoke of his active pursuit. Unconcerned, he crawled with purpose, his prior study of the tunnel system filling him with confidence. Evasion would be simple. Discovering who had betrayed him - that would be difficult.


Assassinate Me A Thriller! writing prompt entry
Writing Prompt
In 500 words or less, write a thriller (or/and horror) prose involving an assassin/assassination or hitman/hitwoman. No poetry or script, please. Be creative and have fun! :)

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