**12 | 10 | 12
Nothing sounded in the chilly, mechanical area.
Nothing but the shallow breaths of a figure decked from head
to toe in deep black. The person's slender stance was ramrod straight; almost
as if waiting for something. Almost as if waiting for someone.
And there he was, ambling lazily towards the corner shop in
the dingy grounds of Paalika Bazaar. A potbelly stretched his visibly expensive
shirt, and the trousers brushed his ankles in that typically IAS officer way.
The person observing the obese man stalked towards the
tripod in the corner, soundlessly walking across the moving slats ahead of
her. They shifted, and the frosty area
plunged into a darkness that was most comforting to her. Even though she lay
shrouded by the heavy cloud of black, her nimble fingers drew out of the rifle
from the inconspicuous seeming backpack.
A few clicks here, a few clicks there and the rifle was
mounted successfully atop the small support structure. With hazel eyes narrowed
like a hawk, and fingers so slender; she zeroed in with lethal weapon. A gentle
touch to the silky body ensured that it was indeed steady, and very much in
It was time.
The slats shifted once again, filling the room with lighting
meager to a normal human being, but sufficient for the woman leveling the
crosshair for the last time. The stand
stayed in place, not displaced from its position as she bent down and looked
through the lens.
Her target was in view.
The sickly purple shirt still lay stretched over the man's
gifted stomach, and his stout legs were walking a quick path from his position.
He held a phone to his ear, and through the lens she discerned that he'd been
told of his oncoming death.
A particularly offensive obscenity resounded in her mind as
she realized the fact that her mission had just toughened. No more was the man
in one place, he was moving, and he was moving far too fast.
A clock tolled somewhere nearby, signaling the time by its
incessant sounding chimes. For a few moments, the slats came together and
blocked her hawk-eye view, disrupting the assessment of the bustling market she
saw from her vantage point.
Impatience crowded her strategic mind, and she pushed the
feeling away with her iron will. This was no time to be distracted. One wrong
shot and her entire career would shatter like the pieces of delicate crystal
decorating the tables of Diplomatic officials.
The four inch metal boards disjointed, allowing the much
needed light to filter in and set the dust motes in the air aflame. A throng of
people escaped onto the landscape ahead, and her honed orbs stayed glued to the
man she was hunting.
Any minute now.
He was detaching from the crowd, those stout legs almost
running to escape the scene of his pre-planned death. But the assassin
observing his every move wouldn't let that happen.
The target neared an old banyan tree, and whipped out his
phone for the second time this sunny afternoon. The high powered lens she gazed
through allowed her to detect the tremble of his fingers, the perspiring of his
The unmistakable fear of Death.
It was time.
Her dexterous fingers inched towards the trigger, while her
eyes lay trained on the profusely sweating man in full view due to the shifted
slats. He had made an error, for he had trusted in the wrong instinct. She saw
him stagger backwards and fall onto the makeshift bench surrounding the ancient
It was time.
A silenced shot whizzed through the almost shut slats, and
raced towards the man seated distrustfully atop the concrete slab. Five seconds
was all it took for the man to slump onto the cold, hard ground. It took
another five for the blood to start pouring out in rivulets from the bullets
aimed solidly at his ample chest.
It took two for the crowd to erupt into absolute chaos.
Whereas the swarm of people screamed and motioned to the
now-dead man lying upon the ground, the sniper dismantled her sleek weapon and
placed it neatly inside the backpack. The indiscreet, but odd looking dark
clothing came off to reveal an ordinary looking churidaar, and an ivory dupatta
made its appearance as well.
The inconspicuous piece of luggage was swung casually over
her shoulder, and hazel orbs dimmed in order to blend into the crowd. Waist
length mahogany hair skimmed sleek shoulder blades, and a pair of jootis permitted her to abide by the
look of a young woman out on a stroll.
Appearances ruled the World.
With a subtle tutoring to her impeccably groomed features,
Khushi Kumari Gupta made her way out of the Assassin's Lair.
Different? Liked it? Bombard me people! Im ready
*This work is my own. Do not reproduce.
Edited by dreamyshadows - 10 December 2012 at 12:55pm