This idea's been bugging me for a few days now. I decided to write it out. Tell me what you think :)
"I'm gonna need that key," Said the man. He walked through our kitchen towards us, the gun in his hand swinging at his side.
My father had his arms stretched out, keeping my eight-year old self behind him. He was pressing me into the fridge, away from the approaching stranger. "The key is at the station." My dad said, his voice was stern but his eyes gave him away. This was his house; five months on the case and now the man brought the danger to his very doorstep.
The man laughed, adjusting his leather jacket and shaking his head. He tapped his temple with the barrel of his gun, and then pointed it towards us. "I know it's not at the station, Chief. I've already visited some of your co-workers." He said with a sickening smile.
I stayed frozen behind my father, the sweat on the back of my neck being cooled by the fridge. My father was scared, and he never got scared. Not my dad.
His eyes flicked towards the fireplace, where his shotgun was mounted just above the mantle. I knew he was trying to find a way out.
Following his gaze, the man scowled. "Now that's just rude, Mr. Swan." He said, walking over to the fireplace.
As the man turned his back, my father reached into his pocket and pushed something small and hard into my fingers. I looked down; it was a key.
"Daddy," I whispered, but he silenced me with a look. I quickly put it in my dress pocket, then hugged at my dad's legs.
The man grabbed the shotgun off the mantle, and came back to us. "Is this what you wanted?" He said, aiming it first at me - causing me to cower behind my father - and then back at Charlie.
"Stop it Aro." Charlie said, taking a step forward. "You can search me, and every cabinet in this house. It's not here. You don't need police blood on your hands."
The man's lip twisted into a smile. "How about on the kitchen floor, then?" He said, as he fired the shotgun into my father's chest.
The beeping from my watch tore me from my thoughts.
Go time.
I turned off the alarm and got out of my car, pausing to grab the black cloak from the backseat. I looked up and down the alleyway to make sure no one was watching before stepping onto the car's hood. From there, I jumped, barely reaching the the black rails of the fire escape. Pulling myself up, I quickly and silently climbed up to the roof of the building.
I pulled myself over the top, again, checking for people. Clear.
Going over to the ventilation system, I stuck my arm into the duct and reached around. Feeling nothing but smooth aluminum, I went to the next one. My hand swept the inside of the duct and caught onto something. Peeling the tape, and making sure not to let it fall, I pulled out an orange package. I opened the envelop and took out the folder inside, leafing through the brief summary and holding the picture up to the the light from the city. Pretty girl. Too bad.
I looked at the coordinates; it was only a few buildings down. Folding the briefing and the picture, I placed them in my jumpsuit's pocket. Throwing the black cloak over my shoulders, I tightened the string and headed for the edge of the building. I left the empty envelop burning on the ground. Speeding up as I neared the edge, I pushed my feet off the ledge and bounded to the next building's roof. It was a lower building, and I padded my landing with a roll. As lithe as possible, I bounded from rooftop to rooftop until I had reached my destination. New York's buildings were always so close together.
I looked over the edge of the safety rail, peering at the people below. What a stupid place for a hit. I shook my head; I didn't make the orders.
I walked over to the pigeon hut, and pulled back the rag-curtain. Inside was a silver briefcase, as promised. I set it on the ground, opening the latches simultaneously. Picking up the contents from the foam insulation, I snapped the bow into place. Having a feel for the string, I reached down to the case and picked up the single arrow inside.
Putting on my hood, I perched at the corner of the building waiting for my mark. I knew the night sky would cover me, so I didn't need to hide. With the arrow in it's place, I held the bow at the ready, my fingers twitching near the string.
Bow and arrow. Classic. No noise, less mess, and very signature.
Closing my eyes for a few seconds, I felt the wind brush past my face. It would be a 7% push from the east, give or take.
I had been sitting there for almost ten minutes when the target showed up. I could see her walking up towards the entrance, since the doors were glass. Even from five-stories high, I could see that she was a fairly attractive woman. Holding up my bow, I anchored my hand to my mouth, taking in a deep breath and holding it. Pointing the arrow to her short, raven hair, then moving my aim to the left side of her chest, I waited for her to walk onto the street.
She stopped at the doorway, pulling out her cellphone. Seeming to check her text messages, she waited inside the entrance just behind the doors.
What was she waiting for? The briefing said she had her own car. She wasn't supposed to be meeting anybody tonight. I pulled my eyebrows together in frustration, loosening my pull on the string but keeping my aim. I hated when the organization gave me wrong information.
I watched the girl intently, making sure not to lose sight of her. She was looking down at her phone, seeming to have received a nice message because her face lit up. She was still chuckling when a silver Volvo pulled up at the entrance. Immediately straightening myself, I pulled at the string again.
The girl put the phone in her pocket and pulled open the door to the entrance, walking out.
Finally.
I would have let the arrow loose, but she was starting to the bend down. That was a bad angle - the kill wouldn't be certain. Ugh, this girl was making me stall. I saw the door to the Volvo open and a handsome man got out of the driver's seat, waving at her. I couldn't let them get to her, or I'd lose the kill. I was gonna have to put it in her head.
Aiming the arrow to land right between her eyes, I held my breath. Just as I was about to make my shot, a little girl sprung from the Volvo, running up to the squatting woman.
I froze.
My fingers stayed cemented in place, unable to release the arrow. I watched as the little girl propelled herself into the woman's outstretched arms, and was twirled around in bouts of laughter as the woman stood up. They looked very happy to see each other; the little girl put her tiny hands on the woman's face while peppering her nose with kisses.
Unconsciously, I lowered my bow.
The brown-haired man from the driver's seat walked up to her and they exchanged greetings. All the while, the little girl in the woman's arms laughed together.
I had lost my window. Fuck.
The trio went back into the Volvo, and I watched helplessly as they drove away. Cursing, I walked back to the silver case and slammed it shut. What was I thinking? I had a shot. Right before the child was in her arms, I could have done it. Why didn't I?
Anger welled up in me and I kicked at the duct beside the pigeon hut, causing a loud bang and several pigeons to fly away, startled.
How was I going to explain this to the organization? This was gonna tarnish my name - I have never, in my entire career, missed a target. I shook my head as I made my way to the stairwell. If it wasn't for that stupid little girl . . .
When I reached my car, I threw myself into the drivers seat. I unzipped my jumpsuit's pocket and took out the target's file, smoothing it out on my steering wheel. I swept my eyes over the briefing, flicking from word to word. I brought up the target's picture; a small Polaroid from a candid shot. Turning it over, I re-read the words scrawled on the back in messy handwriting.
27. 5'3. Short black hair. Yellow Porsche. Shipgooders Inc.
Threat: Potential
Termination: Immediate
Partners: n/a
Flipping the photo in my hands, I looked at the girl's face. A pair of emerald green eyes stared back at me. Stamped on the white part underneath the photo was an identification number and a name.
Target: Alice Cullen
Yeah . . . Like it?
Alice and Bella are both human in this story, btw.