Well people, this is the last segment of the Dream series. This one is different though; it IS a chapter story so there will be more to it. This one has a little bit of violence but nothing to extreme though. The story will get darker as it goes along. Happy reading
Holding the butt of the gun, she turned and twisted her way through the air vent. Slowly sliding her small frame through the roof, she paused to look through a vent at the ground below.
Taking a deep, quiet breath, she slid her black clothed pale body across the hatch. The holster of her gun caught the edge and haltered her quiet movements. This task was not as simple as the contractor had said it would be.
Shifting the holster so it sat in the nape of her back, she continued her arduous journey. Sweat was forming on her brow. Wiping it away with a gloved hand, the metal beneath her creaked.
Frozen on the spot, she looked down at the thin sheet of metal supporting her. If she did not move, it would move for her, but not in the way she wanted to. The soft clothing made moving quietly better than her old clothes. She had purposefully bought the soft material to make it easier to wear and also easier to hide.
Her old clothing was tight fitting and had a certain sheen to it. This made avoiding light a priority for her. With these new clothes, she blended better and her shoes were easier to put on. But this was not the time to be discussing fashionable sexy sneaky black clothing.
Tilting her body slightly, she went round another bend in the vent system. This was becoming irritable for her. Her body ached for more space and the warmth of the sun. It was cold where she was. Sliding further along, she had found her target getting coffee.
His midnight blue hair was tied up badly. Its owner had failed at taming his wild hair. The guy walked with a certain air about him. She could feel his presence below her as she kept pace with the slow walk of her vic.
Adjusting her 9-mm, she screwed on her silencer. This one was to replace the other, which ended up being too loud when she did her last hit. It was specially designed to have as minimum sound as possible.
It always came to mind that she should buy a laser-sighted crossbow with poison darts. To her dislike though, they took to long to kill the intended target. The poison was never toxic enough. Also the bolts never penetrated deep enough to cause the damage she wanted.
Finding his office was easy. Pictures of his close friends, family and lover littered the walls and desk. Nothing was left any mercy to his obsession with beyblading.
The contractor for some reason had a new job every week for her. Same contractor aiming for these specific people. It was beyond her why, but she was here to kill and not to ask questions.
Once again shifting her weight, the vent creaked. A small stream of light streaked across her dark clothed body, it accentuated her small figure. Shadows danced across her face, playing with her already shadowed features. Pushing herself onto her hands and knees, the metal creaked back into place. Slowly sliding back on to her stomach she started stalking her prey again.
Sliding through the cold metal vents made her muscles tingle. Goosebumps rose up from her pale skin. Her hands holstered her gun, sliding it into the leather. Bringing her hand back, she laid it flush against the metal.
Creeping quietly, she came to the office, unscrewing the screws; she lifted the grate into the shaft. Gazing out of the open shaft, she looked for a spot to hide and wait for her target. Quietly sliding out, she landed with nothing more than a whisper.
Footsteps were coming and stood behind the door. Their shadows cast underneath the door. The sound of the door opening reached her ears. A woman's voice came through and a deeper voice said a reply.
Hands flush against the wall; she pressed herself close, hiding behind a filing cabinet. Crouching low, she hid in the dark shadows. When he had just closed the door and started to walk towards his desk, she tackled him.
Falling to the floor, they hit it with a faint thud. Rolling off quickly, she stood up pointing the gun barrel at his forehead. Looking up slowly after turning around and picking himself up off the floor, the blue haired man looked her in the eyes.
"What do you want?" his voice was trembling just as much as his hand, "whatever it is take it, I don't want any trouble. I have a family to feed and look after." Beads of sweat started to form across his brow, slowly dripping into his eyes.
"Your name is Tyson Granger and you happen to be the world champ at blading. As you can see, I know who you really are. There is no escape from me Tyson. I will find you, no matter where you run or what you do," her voice was cold, yet in the eyes of the man in front of her, she saw innocence, "go, but if you tell anyone." With that, she imitated firing her weapon.
Tyson got up and walked to the door, his hand fumbled with the handle. Taking one last look at her, he walked out the door calmly and shut the door. She went straight back into the vent and screwed the grate back in.
Lying flat on the cool metal, she holstered her gun and started the arduous journey back. Sliding once again through the dark tunnel with only a penlight to show her the way.
Finally, the end of the tunnel was insight. A brilliant beam of sunshine showed her, her way out. Deep down she knew that she still had to go down a vertical drop of 8 floors before she could touch the ground again.
Looking down, a wave of despair and misery washed over her. The descent was the only thing that made her worry. Only being able to slide down, with feet on one wall and her back on the other, was she going to go downwards.
With a deep breath, she braced herself against the shaft and started the descent. Breathing steadily helped a little, but still her nerves plagued her, receding then bringing themselves back with force to make her gloved hands sweat.
Thinking of warm sunlight and light in general made her crave for it. The touch of a warm hand on her bare shoulders would make her awful job better. To be able to live a normal life where people could know your name and hold you so tight that you knew you were safe.
This was all but a dream. One that plagued her life everyday and every time she was in a small dark area. It was recurring, nothing scared it away. Always coming back in flashes as she aimed for her vics. Sighing unnaturally loud, she focused once again on the long descent.
As she neared the bottom, a golden stream of sunlight blazed through the dark shaft. Dropping the last few metres, she landed with a soft thump. She looked up at the light; it chased away the darkness, only to be swallowed up by its foe further down the shaft.
Slowly rising, she glanced at her watch. The face was illuminated from the blazing sun. Its black face drank in the light but the bronze numbers and hands reflected the beaming light back out.
Walking out of the air conditioning vent, she walked over to a large garbage bin. Beside it sat a black duffle bag, filled with her necessary equipment. Picking it up, she ran to the nearest fire escape ladder. Without thinking, she jumped and swung herself up the emergency ladder. Taking only mere seconds, she had reached the top and was sprinting after her prey.
Shortly after she started chasing her prey, she noticed that her was waiting for the walk light to come on. How convenient, she thought to herself as she looked over the ledge. Setting down the bag, she started to assemble her sniper rifle. Her custom rifle was designed to suit different barrels so she could use different ammo. Fitting the normal barrel, she loaded it with armour piercing bullets so that she knew that she did it right and kill him with one shot.
Kneeling on the roof, she took aim at Tyson's midnight blue hair. His red and blue cap was sitting backwards on his wild hair as he started to make his way across the street. Lining up carefully, she fired her rifle. The bullet sailed flawlessly through the air to its target. As if in slow motion, a spatter of blood exited the front of his head. Slowly he fell to the bitumen road surrounded people and cars.
From the high rooftop, she could hear the screams and shouts from the crowd below. Her task for the mysterious contractor was complete and another large sum of cash was going to find itself in a Swiss account very soon. As always, a pang of sorrow drove straight into her heart. This job, which she had, was cold and heartless; there was an impersonal attachment to the people as she hunted them down like cattle. Picking people off, one at a time, one after the other. She was always alone in her line of work. The only contact with people was via e-mail and with victims just before she let them run before her game of cat and mouse.
Peering over the ledge of the roof once again, she saw people crowding around her task. A deep sense of achievement washed over her. Once again she had remained hidden from the world. Dismantling her rifle, she picked up the duffle bag and sprinted away. No one was ever going to find her, not even the federal police. She was untouchable.