3 years later...


I leaned back in the chair and put my legs on the table to get comfortable. The table was covered in folders and files, which I'm assuming had all her work in them. They should make for some interesting reading material. I picked up one of the files and placed it on my lap, flicking through it and seeing just what our little friend has been up to.

The current targets name was Janet Packson; she was a 34 year old divorcee who lives in a 2 bedroom house with her 7 year old son. I was currently in her kitchen, just waiting for the lady herself to make an appearance so I can finish this mission and get back. I was given her file this morning, it was an easy job. Find the woman and take her out. I’ll be back home in less than an hour to have a couple of beers and watch some bad TV with Connor, who keeps forcing me to watch some show about a bunch of orange idiots called Jersey Shore.

The target was a scientist. I know what you’re thinking, she sounds like a normal woman with a steady job, so why is she a target?

Well, turns out the target not only uses her skills and knowledge about science at work, but in her spare time she likes to experiment in making bombs with a big enough bang to take out a small town. Once she had made the bombs, the target sells her creations to the highest bidder. The highest bidder includes a suicide bomber whose plans were to take a walk next to Buckingham Palace yesterday and send the place up in smokes, along with everyone in it or around it. Chris however stopped him before he could wipe out the entire Royal Family and the bomber was disposed of. He was prepared to die anyway; he got his wish only no one else died with him.

So that is what brought me here now, to take out the supplier before her creations got into the hands of any other maniac who got hot over explosives and are planning to use them to create a ‘free world’ or whatever crazy bullshit they convince themselves they are doing.

Getting into her house was way too easy it was almost boring. For a woman who is meant to be a genius, she sure is stupid when it comes to locking her front door. She was in the house; I could hear her moving around upstairs. I heard footsteps walking down the stairs and approaching the kitchen. I kept my eyes on the files in front of me, browsing through her work.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a woman walking into the kitchen and freezing at the spot as her eyes landed on me.

“You really should start using a computer to store your work on.” I tell her, flicking the page. I look up at her “Paper is so last year.”

I see her eyes glisten over in fear and her breath catch in her throat. She glances up the stairs, but I could see she wasn’t planning to make a run for it. It was like she was checking that no one was coming down.

“W-who are you?” She stutters, itching her body further away from me.

I throw the file back on the table and take my feet off, slapping my hands on my knees and pushing myself up with a sigh. “Does it really matter?” I ask her “It’s not like you knowing my name will change anything anyway.”

She moves so she is walking further into the kitchen, her body against the counters as she moves her body towards the utensils. I notice her eyes glance at the knives, and I laugh. I sort of wanted her to grab one of the knives and attempt to fight me. This job was way too easy I needed something to liven it up.

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