Lisa McMann Writing Contest

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I twisted my hair into a ponytail, tucking it under my cap and lowering the brim. Then I took a final look around the room full of strangers, wondering which of them would help me escape, and which would try to kill me.

There are about seven of them in all; equally trained, professional assassins who had just witnessed the brutal murder of our bittersweet, Supreme Court judge. Taking in the appearances of my guests, I notice some eyes held fear, worry, while others contain loath and betrayal. They are the ones with the upper hand in this equation. Heavily equipped weaponry swung from multiple body parts on the men that had me surrounded, creating dreadful allusions of what may come. This situation could either end very good or very, very badly. I could even make new allies, but I highly doubt that that will be the case. Odds are not in my favor.

Some may wonder why an assassin like myself would hire to kill a judge, let alone the Supreme Court. Turns out our government wasn't exactly thorough while investigating the background of the man that lay at my feet. His outward appearance may seem genuine, but my papers tell a different story. A very dirty past, he has; multiple kidnappings, gang violence, and robbing of secret administration files. Offences like these should not go unnoticed. And that is where I come in. I was recruited from the highest training school to execute the man that determines many fates. However, his history verified his. It is necessary for this heartless man to be taken out to save the lives of others.

Glancing at the dead body on the floor, I find several bullet wounds spewing blood, while other, more prominent gashes have already bled out. His cool pallor does little to lighten the dark brown coloring of his skin. Late forties, balding, heavy weight, hard façade, clad in designer label suit that declares wealth and superiority. This man screams untrustworthy and deceitful. It's a wonder he survived this long.

A thunderous sound of stampeding feet echoing throughout the courthouse is what snaps me out of my assessment and successfully brings me back to the task at hand. We are in a lot of trouble. I say we because even though I am the only one who committed this exact crime, the others standing in this room aren't exactly innocent. Every single one of us is guilty and deserving of the death penalty, thus being the reasoning behind the hateful glares I'm currently receiving. I am the one that disrupted our secrecy behind every kill; before now, our jobs had been completed skillfully, but I had to be the one sent to target a high ranking government official. The others were just called in for backup. Although now that they're here with me, I cannot be brought down alone. Some of these men would love to hand my life over to the police force, but they would be at risk as well. They are every much as guilty as I am.

Pursing my lips, I sense that the SWAT team and law enforcement officers are about two floors down. We have approximately sixty seconds to escape. Gazing around the room, I find only two exits; the door that all the cops are soon to bust down, and the air duct in the far, right corner, above the mahogany desk. I wipe my blood-spattered hands across my jeans while my eyes are sweeping around the room in search of any evidence I may have left behind, only to find a flashing red button. This has to be what the judge used to call for assistance before I took his life. How could I have been so reckless to have missed that? He probably bashed against it during the brawl between the two of us.

This must be why some faces had shown alarm. Presently, there are somewhere around thirty armed executives hunting us down. Not to mention the helicopters flying around above us. From the looks of our situation, it would take a miracle to get us out alive. And I am alone in this getaway entirely. I cannot trust a soul other than myself. Undependable strangers are all these men are; they could turn their backs on me in a heartbeat. It is every man for himself.

Taking out one of my miniature explosives, I don't hesitate before blowing the hatch off the door to the ducts; there's no need to be quiet when our position has already been discovered. Heaving myself up onto the workplace and through the vent, I look to see all the guys hot on my heels. We dash all the way through the vent system before catching sight of a blinding light in the floor. That could only mean one thing: an exit! Blowing up every obstacle that comes into my path, I work my way through the building, closing the distance between my future and me. I will make it out, I'm almost there!

Adrenaline courses through my veins as I sprint across the office. Nothing could prepare me for what I was about to go through. I would have to fight for my life, unknowing of whether fatality was my luck, or to continue this life as a murderer. I despise taking the lives of those guiltless; I've always believed that my job serves justice because I only harm the bad guys, but there is nothing I could do to prevent what is rapidly approaching.

Sudden explosions went off in different places around the courthouse. They are getting closer. I dodge falling bricks and floating debris, sparks flying everywhere. Taking a sharp left, I cut around a corner to stumble upon an opening in the wall made by a bomb. I leap through only to come face to face with my seven strangers. No longer am I worried about the policemen behind me.

One last fleeting look at all the expressions alight with a burning passion to destroy my life; I discover that I have been cornered. The life I have preserved throughout all these years suddenly seems so small. I now face the horror and the outcome of the grief around me and there is nothing I can do. I only stare into destiny's core and watch what's before me unfold.

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