Double Homicide

Jason walked calmly yet purposefully along the sidewalk, effortlessly blending in with the throng of people. With his sharp two-piece suit and briefcase in hand, he was the personification of the American businessman. No one would have suspected something out of the ordinary; for years, Jason had trained to become invisible at a moment's notice. Very few knew him well, and those who crossed his path never lived to recount it. He was not tied to the tenets that others were, for he knew the truth of the world; nothing is true. And though others told him that his actions were not allowed, he kept in mind the knowledge that, for the sake of safety and liberty, everything is permitted.

He checked his watch. Two minutes before the target would be in sight. Jason found himself lucky that the man followed his schedule to the letter. For the past week of his observation, Jason found that his target was never late, never early, and always planned ahead. Although this guaranteed the location of the hit, Jason knew that the man always had at least two armed cops protecting him, and at 8:50 each morning he crossed the same crosswalk. The cops following him would wait on their side of the street, and two others would take over on the opposite side. It provided a nearly perfect window of opportunity; this was going to be one of the more difficult assassinations. But Jason was ready for it.

He took another glance at his watch just as he got to the southernmost corner of Park Avenue and East 34th Street. 15 seconds to spare, he chuckled to himself. Seizing the opportunity, he sat on a nearby bench, next to a couple of older gentlemen. Two policemen walked past, most likely the replacements. Jason had always been able to notice things others could not, including the seemingly insignificant silver crosses below their badges. Templars. He fought the urge to take them both out and waited patiently for them to leave. As they turned the corner, his target came into sight.

His name was Stephen Hanson. To the media, he was a happy-go-lucky, fun-loving family man. To those who really knew him, he was the single most corrupt politician in New York. Every last cent of his campaign money had been earned from bribes and blackmail. Not only that, but he was a Templar, and a high-ranking one at that. Today, he was scheduled to give a speech that would no doubt secure his position as the next governor of New York State. And Jason had to kill him.

The assassin slowly got off the bench and began walking down the street, parallel to Hanson. As they approached 9th and Main, Jason quickened his pace. He knew he had to act fast; otherwise his chance would be gone. Hanson turned right onto East 34th, oblivious to the man who had just turned left and was walking up to him. The intersection was crowded with people. All the more cover, Jason thought.

What happened next took only an instant, yet Jason took every detail in, every minute action sticking in his mind.

As Jason stepped forward with his left foot, less than a yard from his target, he brought his left arm up, as if to shake Hanson's hand. At the same time, the spring within a hidden mechanism released, and a sharp metal blade shot out from within his suit jacket's sleeve. Hanson's eyes shifted to the glint of silver. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jason quickly lunged forward and shoved the blade into the politician's chest, piercing his heart. After one final grunt, Hanson's life was over.

Before Hanson had a chance to fall back, Jason dropped his briefcase and went to support him. Placing his right hand behind Hanson, the assassin lowered him onto the crosswalk, ignoring a bystander who had witnessed the run-in and was unintentionally being pushed away by the crowd. "Rest in peace," Jason whispered, lowering the man's eyelids. The blade sprang back into place. Jason stood back up, grabbing his briefcase in the process and went to walk away.

"Assassin!"

Jason turned around suddenly. The passerby was lucky enough to have gotten the attention of one of the replacement cops, who was now headed right for Jason. Jason turned back around and saw that another cop had drawn his gun and was advancing. Great, Jason thought.

He had to disappear. Now.

He cut right into the road, directly into traffic. Sprinting south on Park, Jason narrowly missed two cars and a bus without slowing his pace. He ran another block and turned into a nearby alleyway. Using a couple of crates as leverage, he jumped and caught the edge of the fire escape, still clutching his briefcase. Jason climbed up a few flights to the top of the building with the two officers in hot pursuit. The assassin ran across a few rooftops, getting higher and higher up by climbing on the air conditioners and other miscellaneous objects on the roofs. He got to the last rooftop, unable to progress any farther, just as the men caught up with him. "Stop, or I shoot," one of them yelled. Jason looked down at the alleyway stories below, vacant except for an overflowing industrial trash bin.

Solemnly, he dropped his briefcase over the ledge and turned to face the officers. Both had their guns drawn. Templars, Jason confirmed, spying their respective crosses. No surprise there. One cop looked more experienced, his hair slightly grayed. The younger one to his right, however, could have completed his basic training the day before. A bead of sweat trickled down the young policeman's forehead, and his hand shook. Jason looked directly into his eyes, then slowly raised his hands as if to surrender. Suddenly, the assassin gave the inexperienced cop a quick wink, then jumped back and disappeared from view.

The two men ran up to the edge of the roof and looked down into an alley seven stories down. Jason was nowhere to be seen. He had escaped.

As the officers headed back down to ground level and radioed in, they didn't happen to pay much attention to the dumpster. Had they stuck around longer, they might have seen Jason climbing out of his impromptu safety net, covered in garbage. He sighed, stripping off his suit jacket. Picking up his trusty briefcase, he popped the latches to reveal a hoodie and jeans, as well as a fake wig, the dark brown a stark contrast to his normal blond sheen. After a quick clothing change, Jason tossed the remaining clothing into the trash and headed back to his apartment.

Jason pulled a phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. After a few rings, the other line picked up. Another voice, most likely a woman in her 30s, said, "How'd it go?"

"He's been taken care of," he answered. "I'm on my way now."

"Alright. See you-" The voice cut off as Jason pulled out the battery and tossed the pieces onto the ground, crushing them with his foot.

As he rounded the corner, Jason had no time to react to the butt of the pistol that slammed into his face and broke his nose. Nor could he react as the gunman blasted a hole in his forehead. The assassin now lay dead in an alley, the mysterious figure looming over him.

The gunman slowly walked in a circle around the former assassin. He pulled a small hooked blade from his shirt pocket. Leaning over the fresh corpse, the killer took his knife and cut into the neck of Jason's hoodie. He forcefully tore it in half, revealing the cadaver's naked chest. Taking the knife once again, he slowly slid the blade into the skin, just below the neck, and cut a vertical line down to the stomach. He then added a horizontal line across the chest, ultimately leaving a bloody cross carved into the assassin.