Currently untitled [Part two]

Flickering red light from a weary sign filters through the grimy window
The cab creaking ominously as it limps over a pothole jarringly
and comes to a stop across from a soggy looking abandoned apartment building
Unkempt, destitute, and potentially unstable, much like my own

It's still raining outside, the night sky painted a stormy grey
I pay the cab driver for my fare, grumbling under my breath
and step out, deftly avoiding a current of oily gutter water
Waving him off with a middle finger salute for ripping me off

I see my breath before me, the dreary weather chilling me through my layers
Time for a warmer jacket, I suppose, but I'm oddly attached to this worn-out comfort
I cross the street at a jog, less traffic in this part of the busy city
But you never know who's out driving drunk at 2:30 in the morning

The rusted gate's lock was already busted, not surprising in this neighborhood
and I slip inside, uncomfortably exposed by a dim light as I approach the doors.
I use a pass key that I was given with the rest of the information
Letting myself into the unlit lobby of the dilapidated building

Starting to feel that rush inside when I know I'm about to perform a hit
I calm myself, breathing out slowly and pull out my gun, double checking methodically
I know it's loaded, but it's all part of the meditation process
Check your breathing, check your gun, check your facts

"Carol Whitney, twenty-seven, 5'6", a hundred and thirty four pounds
Brown eyes, dyed red hair, fair complexion, carries a Walther P22  
Will be in Apartment 113, seventh floor between 2 am and 3 am,
Elevator is out of order, wait in stairwell, catch her on her way down"

Simple enough, I wasn't worried, I had the element of surprise to my advantage
the heavy rainfall humming steadily outside, muting softer tones
I head up the stairwell, stepping lightly, shadows clinging to every corner jealously
and exit the stairwell on the forth floor, waiting patiently for descending footsteps

After what seems to be around fifteen minutes, I hear them
echoing in the confined stairwell from a couple floors up, drawing near
I pull out my gun, yet it is not my intention spray her brains all over the bannister
Preferring to incapacitate her and drag her off to a more secluded location

Her footfalls get closer and I wait until they just pass the cold metal door
I burst out from behind the door and grab her with rigid unrelenting arms
And place my gun to her temple, hearing her give a sharp shriek
"Not another sound." I whisper in her ear as she stiffens against the gun

My lips are so close to her neck I can feel the heat rising from her rapid pulse
Almost pleasant in the dreary chill produced by my damp clothing and crisp autumn air
I really couldn't wait to get home and warm up after killing this bitch
Sighing internally at the maze of transit it will take to get back

Focus.

"Hand me your gun." I say in a cold and emotionless tone, waiting impatiently
"I..I..don't..ha..have.." she starts to say, lips trembling, starting to lose composure
"Bullshit, Miss Whitney." I say softly but shake her abruptly as if to throw her down the stairs
She inhales sharply, panicked, just as I pull her back against my frame "Gun."

Her small hand, milky white, illuminated by a strip of moonbeam goes to her side
I hold my hand out for the weapon, expectantly, tapping my own hard against her skull
she winces, but I'm more concerned with her emerging Walther to care about her pain
Just when I'm about to grab it she sends her arm straight up and fires at the ceiling

"FUCK!" I grab her wrist and brutally smack her hand against the concrete wall
Her gun falls from her grip and clattering down the stairs, knuckles scraped and bleeding
My hand comes to her neck and I grab her, tossing her back through the door behind me
Hearing hurried footsteps heading down from two floors above

She's just easing up from the ground as I grab her red strands, pulling her up
"I'm going to enjoy killing you now." I say icily as I drag her down the hall
Pulling her around a corner just as a man bursts through the stairwell,
Cursing loudly and putting a bullet in the wall right where my head had been

That was too close for comfort, this job was already more dangerous than intended
Time to put a bullet in her head and get out of here before more associates show up
She screams freely now, the damage already done, and struggles against me
I shove her into a room in front of me and onto her knees, remorselessly pulling the trigger

[...to be continued]