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He was crouching on his knees on the roof top of an old abandoned building right across was the hotel which has stood through time and has seen its share of the most unfortunate things in the world, tonight would be no different. Looking through the scope of the finest piece of metal molded into shape and dynamics to hold fine tuned silver bullets, made for only one purpose, kill. His unusually unstable cross hair was roaming to find the intended target, 4^th floor and 3rd room from his right corner. That’s that the note said, he took out the piece of paper in his pocket, taking his eyes away from the scope, he read it once again, wanted to make sure, he was there at right time, right place and had the right person, all the right details. Just then, he left a droplet of water thud on the paper he was holding, he thought, “does it have to rain now”. The ink on the paper was looking a smudged now. He tried to rub off the water on the paper by his gloved fingers. He had to remind himself, this was not his 1^st, somehow, this job felt odd, something didn’t add up. Details were too precise. He was also told that there will no change in any of the details mentioned in the paper and the source that brought this was his most reliable contractor.

A slight hint ran through his mind, he knew this building; he had been in it, long years ago. He had been here, in his early teens, walking home, past the same building. When one day he saw someone looking through the window, it was a cold, she was leaning out of her balcony and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She had the brightest red lipstick on her, hair well done; she had a cigarette between her fingers, took a last pull before she turned out and closed the window. Her face stood clear in his mind, until today. The whole week, he would pass the same building every single day on the way back from school, but he never saw her after that. A week later, he saw her again, she looked nothing like how she was the 1^st time he saw her. He could still remember her to detail, even when standing a good 4 storey below her window, her makeup had be awful, hair was messed, she had a black eye, lipstick all over her cheeks. He could make out she had been crying, her long deep breaths, as the cigarette in between her fingers were close to burning her skin. He always had an eye for detail. He didn’t even know who it was, something inside him, made him cry out “you’re going to burn your fingers lady”. The sudden voice made her jolt and drops the cigarette; he walked by without leaving a trace of his presence. Up to day, he’s one of the best at this, he leaves no trace. He wondered to himself, if he was actually born to do this or was he trained to do this.

Too many questions were arising in this head. He ran his fingers over his bald head, polished as he could remember for the last few years; he had been keeping it this way. He was now in his late 20’s. He has forgotten the last time someone remembered his birthday, to wish him, to kiss him, to hold him close. He was wondering, why is all these questions coming up now, why was he feeling this way.  He shook his head and got his eye and attention back on the scope, waiting for his target. Coincidently, it was the same window he had seen the lady when he was a teenager walking by the same street. He was looking through the scope for his target, still nothing; he still had time for the hit to happen. He was growing impatient by the seconds passing. He was wondering what was happening to him, he had never felt this way, “fuck” he said to himself, “get your head straight man, you want to get through this and live to see her don’t you?”. He glanced at his watch, pitch black wrist strap, white dial, one from the many of the same kind. He liked his suit black, silk, pressed clean and crisp, two button jacket, flat pants and black belt with nothing fancy on it.

Suddenly the light in the room came on, he got back to the scope, his mind was wondering to his teenage years, when he was care free, when all he had to do was study, but all that education didn’t help his choice of career, he had to pick the non-conventional venue, the path less travelled. He was good at this, he didn’t know if he had been different, if he hadn’t shot for the 1^st time in his life, right after that he saw the lady with red lipstick and cigarette in a state he shouldn’t have seen anyone in. he got his attention back through the scope, his target was on sight, but the instruction said clearly, he was to be shot exactly at 9p.m sharp. He would receive a call on his personal mobile and he would walk close to the window, that is when he is suppose to be taken out. He had been studying the area for a couple of days looking for anything out of the ordinary, since this was an abandoned building he was using, he had to make sure he didn’t have any unexpected visitors. He had barred the main stair case entrance to the rooftop after he made it with wood, made sure his exist strategy was in place, the fire escape was steady and not too old for his stunts, the alley way was not used by anyone. He studied the place well, drafted everything to precise detail. The clock was ticking close to the time, he steadied his arms, closer to the gun, finger slowly sliding to the trigger, voice inside his head “easy boy, you’ve done this before, easy now” he left the rush getting to his head, he hasn’t felt this rush since his 1^st untrained kill.

He could make out a shadow making it towards the window, target was in sight, checked his watch, it had struck 9, sharp. He firmed his grip on the gun; his fingers went to squeeze the trigger, the hammer pulled back, had the target in this sight, gentle squeeze once again. A second later, he heard scream from the room, his eye stood firm on the scope, looking to confirm if he had hit. A took more than few seconds to actually come back to reality. The scream was very familiar, it was deafening and he was in a state of awe. He had heard this faint voice before, he couldn’t put it where. He got back to the scope to confirm the hit, closing his eyes, he drew a long breath. He needed to be far away as possible. He packed his equipment, made it to the alley by the fire escape with much less attention seeking stunts and to his car, driving away from the scene. Running his bare hands his face, wiping the sweat in some discomfort, speeding away in this beast of a machine. But the scream kept playing in his head over and over again. Made it through the free way, a few minutes later, he was at another warehouse like building in a deserted industrial space.

Driving through the automated rolling doors, switching off the engine, putting the beast to rest, he was still sitting in the car with this head rested, with his mind wondering about the voice. It took more than a few good vibrations to realize his phone in his left jacket pocket was going off. He reached for the phone; he looked at the displayed, “Unknown caller”, with a sigh he picked up, “yes”, he distorted voice on the other end , “job is complicated, package will be wired as communicated, although there might be a little complication, a loose end. Not sure yet”. He cut in between, “what loose end?”, he got a reply - “there might have been a witness”. “Damn”, he thought, “the voice he heard wasn’t one of those voices inside his head”.  “We’ll be in touch in case we need your service again”. The line went blank. He slipped the phone back into jacket pocket, he got out of the car, picking up his package, custom built precise killing tool. Heading off to shower, stripping off his clothes, he felt heavy, disturbed like never before, unable to make of what was bothering him, he stopped for a drink, pouring a larger quantity than his usual, sipping it, walking to the shower, drowning the inside of his body with the scotch, the outside with the warm water gushing from the shower. The voice keeps playing in his head over and over again, it keeps getting louder.

Please help me with a title for.. :) finally a post worthy enough that i would even read..

Compliments of the season, all the best for the new year bloggers.. :)