Killer Within

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Summary

Amelia isn't all who she seems....

Genre:
Action / Romance
Author:
SootynEcho
Status:
Ongoing
Chapters:
1
Rating:
n/a
Age Rating:
16+

Chapter 1


Midnight. Nothing but black. A perfect time to kill. I stood on a large empty building which was falling apart. The bricks forming the building as well as the roof, were all breaking apart, soon this building would go down. There was a slight cold breeze to the air tonight, luckily I was covered from top to bottom. My flowing brown hair tied up into a messy bun, covered with a black beanie. A black cat suit covered my whole body, the ones that goes up to your neck, covering all the skin it could. Not the cat suits where they have your chest on show, squeezed together, making it a eye shower and making it hard to breathe. I nearly received a very tight leather cat suit, but I refused, I was doing a job, not a strip tease.

Looking through the red lens of my binoculars holding them in my glove covered hands, my target was locked on. A large man with his belly falling out of his tight stained vet. Blue striped boxer shorts that would show a plumbers bum, but instead this time it wasn't very attractive, and he certainly didn't have the build and six pack for it. The target's black hair, well what was most of it, combed across his head, with a few strands sticking up. His face wasn't attractive, a large nose big enough to stuff one, maybe two of the Cheetos that fell onto his dirty vest. His whole body was sweating like he was in the Amazon Rainforest, this was New York City. The big apple, even in America, it wasn't that hot.

I looked down below my binoculars, a folder with the red bold letters of 'TARGET' was printed onto it. Opening the folder, looking at a picture in colour, of the target. Johnny Ross. His job and reason for his death? Kidnap prostitutes and force them as sex slaves. He owns his own secret brothel above his fake Laundromat shop. My job? Wipe him and free the girls. Did I feel guilty for what I was about to do? No. He deserves every bullet in his soul less body. He had no family, no children, which made it easier.

The large sweating man was laughing at the television, looking in the large mirror hanging opposite his television. A comedy show. He then reached down swirling his long thick finger in his bellybutton. After removing his finger he found a Cheerio located in the dark tunnel of his bellybutton, he looked at his, examining it. He blew on it and shoved it in his mouth laughing at the television. It made me gag. I felt like throwing up, but I had to be professional for this. Time to finish this beast.

Looking to my side, a large silver case laid beside me. I placed the binoculars in the black bag, which carried everything with me. Sometimes it felt like the Mary Poppins bag, no matter what size it could fit. I grabbed the case and pressed 3 buttons a few times for the combination. 930. A quite beep came from the case along with a click. The case opened by itself, and a black sniper rifle was secure in the case. Pulling it out, and combining all the pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle, the last click of the gun as it was completed. 3 gold 308 Winchester rifle cartridges sat in the black cushion of the case. Two for two important organs in the human body, which equal instant death, and another for a favourite location of mine. The male manhood. Some men are dirty pigs, all they think about is girls, their bodies, and sex. They disrespect woman, label them as a sex icon or object. Without no working manhood, they can't disrespect a woman without having it. They would be ashamed of themselves if they didn't have it, they should be ashamed of themselves every day. That's why they go to hell.

Inserting one of the gold cartridge's into the sniper rifle, I rolled on the silencer, so the shot wouldn't echo through the streets, which would attract attention and police. And the police wouldn't take my story too well. I looked through the scope attached to the rifle, locking onto my target. I aimed at his bald head waiting for him to sit still. He couldn't stop laughing and moving in his seat. The reflection of the mirror showed what was on the T.V screen. The adverts decided to finally come on. Looking at the target again he sat still. I pulled the trigger quickly and carefully. The shot of the Winchester shot out of the barrel, through the silencer, gliding through the cool air, going through the open window through his head.

I smirked at the shot. Dead in the middle of his head. He just laid there, arms and legs limp, head firmly on the cushion. The empty cartridge fell on the floor like a bouncing coin, making that small high sound. Placing another Winchester into the rifle, I took another shot. His heart. Just in case to make sure he was really dead. The last shot, my favourite. Inserting the gold cartridge into the sniper rifle, taking aim at his jewels, and firing. Bulls-eye.

Sighing in relief, I stood up, detaching the rifle and putting it back into the black cushion in the case. The file and the case all fit into the black bag I carried, putting it onto my shoulder and walked to the edge of side of the building. I grabbed hold of the black paint peeling ladder and climbed down. It took several cases of stairs to climb down. The building used to be old flats, but a mouse and mould problem, drove the families out.

Jumping down onto the tarmac floor of a dark alley, where my car was parked. A black BMW. Completely free, from my boss. Opening the boot, I dumped the black bag inside and slammed it shut. The driver's side door opened automatically as the boot was shut. Technology was improving every day, and automatic opening of doors when you shut the boot, was one of them.

I sunk into the leather seat of the driver's seat turning on the engine and drove out the alley, to do my second and last job of tonight.

Saving the girls.

Maybe they did get themselves into this mess, but I had to get them out.

I wanted out of his whole job, but I didn't know how to break it to my boss. He wasn't one of these men who took a no for an answer. Why did I have to be one of those dramatic teenage girls who run away? I had to be one.


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