BlameThePixel!

The assassin

His eyes glowed blood red, staining the darkness with a heartless aura. As the gales span past his smile of bloodlust, he watched his victim dash past him. She blundered into a deep puddle, which the depth had been underestimated. He knew that would happen. He isn’t physic, just incredibly observant in her movements and her past movements.
Stealth and the ability to be come darkness it self, merging within the shadows that reap redemption, is what he is most proud of.

The suburbs seemed bleak and unwelcoming in the musty darkness. You could see the vandalism on the neglected lampposts, which flickered constantly, revealing the graphite every half a second.
She shook her head in disgust as she viewed the display upon the wall.
Nazi symbols and images of death, which appeared to be printed in blood. The ‘blood’ looked wet, as if it just had been printed. It was not dry and turned brown with age.

He dashed up the stairs of an abandoned building.
He peered over the edge and noticed that she had no ring on. He knew that she adored her ring and that the ring was too small for her. So it would be difficult to remove it. He could see a light mark where the skin had developed a tan around where the luxurious ring once was.

There was an alcove to the side with a bench in side, lying on the bench was a large black stainless steel box.
He went into his pocket, containing a picture of the woman, a few five pound noted, paragraphs of her actions today, a packet of aspirin pills and a ring of keys. He had on the ring, keys to her house her car, her bike lock, everything that was related to her and required a key to function.
He expertly flicked though the key ring, containing more than a dozen keys, he plucked one of them out.

Paramount this key is, without it, the box could not be opened.
He inserted the key and twisted the key. As the padlock sprung it self into the unlocked position, it let out a quiet clang which echoed down the mercy suburbs.
Opening the box in glee he gave out another smile of bloodlust.
His rifle was laid out in the velvet lined box. The gun was loaded.
He withdrew it from the box with extreme care and attached the scope.
He walked to the edge in anticipation.
He sighted a path, where she was heading to.
Her head appeared in the bottom left hand corner of the 10x zoom scope. He gripped the trigger. This head was directly under the crosshair, she paused directly where he had positioned the crosshair, and he knew she would. She paused to remove a stone in her muddy red high heels.
He took out a mirror and reflected a ray of light into her eye to grab her attention.
She looked up and saw the sniper rifle targeting her. She froze with petrifaction.
The time was now. He pulled the trigger of his beloved weapon.
The bullet went directly between the eyes, killing instantly, splattering blood over the wall.

He removed the scope, the clip and gently placed everything back into the box. He flipped his key ring into the air and caught it, catching the key to the box’ padlock.
He locked his box and put the strap around his shoulder. Walking away, he withdrew a lighter from his back pocket and burnt the logs of the woman and her picture. He also removed any recollection of her from his superb memory.
He casually walked down the stair case, taking care not to bash his box.