On The Scale Of

Chapter 6

"It's called being professional. Despite the client's innocence..."

How eerily similar the situations are. Who knew being an assassin and a lawyer couldn't be that much different? After all, lives rest on both their hands. It's just that lawyers have paperwork where assassins don't.

I chuckled to myself and glided my palm against Franny. She's a Blaser R93 Tactical sniper rifle with a caliber of .300 Winchester Magnum. Girlie had lent me her old sniper when I was just starting out, but with it, I'd managed to save enough money to purchase Franny instead. Totes worth it. Although my scope's still garbage.

I was lucky that this time, being able to wake earlier than expected. I guess I was too anxious to sleep in.

Feeling the most unsure I've ever been, I continued to monitor the flower shop I'd seen Hogan enter in. He was earlier too. He came in at 2:30 PM whereas he was supposed to be there 30 minutes later. I really am thankful I was earlier than him.

At first, I had a hard time believing he was the same man in the profile. He looked so much cleaner now. But the resemblance was spot on. The indecent tattoos were undoubtedly still there, though.

I steadied my scope, aiming the cross hair at Hogan as he stepped out a flower shop with a bouquet of roses in his hands. He was a tall, lean man with a freshly shaven face and wild dark hair. He stopped in his tracks and merely stood outside the building.

Is he waiting for me to shoot him? Are those flowers for his funeral?

I tried my hardest to focus and thought back to his profile. There just wasn't enough proof that he's a murderer. Why was the accuser so persistent at saying so otherwise? There has to be something wrong here.

A woman, holding hand with a little girl suddenly approached him. And all thoughts has been taken precedence over. The child hugged his waist while he kissed the woman on the cheek. Are they his family? It didn't mention anything in the profile about family.

I swallowed, my throat feeling constricted. My hands wouldn't stop trembling. Girlie... What's her deal? She told me that I shouldn't kill Hogan if I think he's innocent. That didn't sound very convincing. Is this some sort of sick, twisted test? The deal was to kill off any Kill Request she hands me, given that the targets have committed grievous criminal acts. That's what she does. She was the original 'Dark Angel of the Wronged', not me. I was merely caught between a rock and hard place.

Proofs. Evidence. Witnesses. A case is downright lost without any of them. You taught me that, didn't you, Daniel?

The photos. It had to be Hogan. They were all him. He had been planning something. The client told me so. Puzzles. He connected the pieces and came to that conclusion. But why is it still not enough?

If I kill him right then and there, what looks will the mother and the child wear? OK. What if he is a criminal. I never stop to think that even these kinds of people have families. Although, why should other families suffer because of this man? The fires... it hurt people, my client told me. But is he really the one who did it? What if he isn't? What, then?

I breathed carefully, scratching the texture of Franny's trigger. One less madman in the world, Ri...

Hogan's head disappeared from my cross hair as he bent down and carried the little girl in his arms. The trio began to walk down the street.

"I..."

I groaned and pressed my forehead against the hollow block in front of me. It felt colder than ever.

I can't.

Frustration washed over me like an ocean wave over an already wet shore. This isn't going to work at all. I've seen Mcgomery and what he had done. What he was capable of. I've seen the victims. The horror. The blood. I've seen enough and it made it easier for me to kill him.