Thread: The Target    Policewoman&Flassche

The Target Lance pressed his shoulder firmly up against the wall, his heart hammering in his chest, the rapid beat echoing loudly in his ears. It surprised him how he still felt so exhilarated every time, feeling the adrenalin race through his veins like a drug, sharpening his senses. Thick drops of blood where dripping down the small stainless-steel knife he was holding in his right hand, his digits grasping it tightly, the metallic surface gleaming. The room was silent, not one sound could be heard, and even his breathing was shallow, forced, keeping his position as concealed as possible. A small cloth appeared in his left hand, shifting towards the small blade, cleaning it in an automated fashion. He glanced sideways, intense light grey eyes scanning his surroundings with a hawk like precision, a procedure he had repeated countless times before. The room was dark, the night and broken lamps making it so, but enough eerie moonlight still existed to see a few objects, only the corners were completely shrouded in black, hiding all in the shadows. Moving forward cautiously, each foot placed lightly with agonizing precision. The air became silent as the commotion subsided as quickly as it had started, the atmosphere now becoming one of deafening suspense. The minute he had ended the targets life, he had heard a feint noise, footsteps even. A flash of light flickered, causing Lance to glance upwards. Again it flickered and Lance squinted, seeing that the mirror before him was reflecting the light off an object. A small smirk widened on his face as he saw the reflection of a tall youth in it, his own blade catching some of the light. The 62 tall frame was clad in dark clothing, dark enough to blend in with the shadows, yet colorful enough to blend in with a large crowd. His short cut dark brown hair was blending in with the dark room. The only thing that really stood out where his perfect bright grey irises. Lance finished cleaning his blade and sheathed it, hiding it in a small slot between his right shoe. Exhilaration coursing through his veins as he moved around the corner. Within seconds he had blended in with the shadows and disappeared completely. Day..1 Lance rushed towards the building as the screech of a siren cut through his reflection. Lights flashed outside and flooded the streets with a blinding glare, the glow of crimson red and dark blue, searching for answers, searching for him. And here he was standing a mere foot away from a dozen police officers, even casually talking to one of them. Come one.. What do you mean you are not in a liberty to discuss the wellbeing of the occupant? I just watched them clear out a corpse in a body bag! A filthy glance was al he got in return. The scene changed quickly as more and more people crowded the streets, police men, neighbors, reporters, forming a cesspool of curiosity. Lance fiddled the badge he was wearing around his neck, supported by a metal chain. The private detective role offered him some jurisdiction and awe in the eyes of the citizens, yet he was frowned upon by the average policemen. The death of Judge George Adam Kingsly was a huge media sensation. The body was found a few hours ago, stabbed to death by an unknown assassin. The private security personal and surveillance cameras offered no answer to who this assassin was. It appeared he had appeared and disappeared into the depths of the night. The not yet cold corpse was still warm, yet the media vultures had already pried up enough dirt to make a satisfying story. Corruption, prostitution, blackmailing, all these things where small things compared to his link with his disappeared brother, Senator Lucas Adam Kingsly. Lance calmed his own heartbeat as he inspected his surroundings. A small black car was heading towards the crime scene. And I see the first piece as arrived at the board A small childish grin appeared on his face. Gods this feeling of insecurity was the best. He formed his poker face and remembered his role he would be playing. Infiltrate and advice the pieces, as they move across the board. And when the time would be right The senators eyes would grow dim as his spark of life would be extinguished