Hi there everybody! To those who are reading this story right now, welcome! It may be a bit confusing, as this story has absolutely nothing to do with the plot of Percy Jackson. Let me explain a little bit first. Actually, this story is meant to be an English homework assignment, due after the Christmas holidays. I just wanted to post it on FanFiction to see what people think about it, and how I could correct it So, I'm going to be using Reyna (since she's awesome) and Jason, where they are both human. Jason ran off with all of Reyna's company's secrets a few years ago, and he's been on the run since. Finally, she has found him. WARNING! This contains character death, hence the story being T rated. Please R&R! It would really help my English writing :D Thank you in advance!
Now onto the story!
Silvery moonlight glinted off the heavy barrel of her rifle. Taking in a sharp breath of the midnight air, she grimaced as a drop of perspiration trickled down her face. This job... somewhat morally challenging... Desperate to clear her head of negative thoughts, she lifted her head and her protruding chocolate brown gaze focused on the victim's run-down shack. Dawn approached stealthily and she cursed under her black mask, wishing to get this mission over and done with. Above her, crimson clouds crept closer towards the pure white, luminous moon, bringing a sense of dread, a sense of foreboding into the clear night. Her clean slate would soon be splattered with the red, red blood of betrayal.
Everything was still. No owl dared to hoot. No wolf dared to howl. The eerie quiet was disturbed by rustling in the trees as they swayed with cold, late November breeze. This caused a chill to crawl up her spine, like a spider. Up on the hilltop of yellow, dying grass, she winced as her foot shifted to create a dry, cackling sound. Suddenly, a faint noise was detected coming from the direction of the shack and she stiffened, bracing herself for the shower of bullets that would surely follow. However, there was none. Slowly, she raised her head to face the shack, her dark brown gaze instantly met with a piercing amber one. Just a cat... her rapidly beating heart gradually steadied itself, but she kept eye contact with the feline. This was no ordinary cat, its pelt—dark as the devil's cloak, signified that someone was about to die.
Soon.
Tonight.
Their silent staring contest was interrupted by the loud screech of burning tyres abruptly braking against the narrow asphalt lane. The devil's pet gracefully leapt down from the roof of scrap metal and it padded quietly into the darkness of the night. This is it, time for me to prove my worth. Replacing her furrowed eyebrows with a cold, intense glare, she smirked as the slowly flickering headlamps of the car came to a halt. Soon, soon his flickering lifeline will come to a stop and I will be greatly rewarded. Careful not to disturb the sleeping grass, she quietly shifted into a crouching position, her finger hovering over the trigger, ready to aim and fire.
A slow, creaking sound filled the air. The mud-streaked door of the old, silver Mustang gradually opened and a tentative hand reached out into the darkness. Do not fire, not yet. Wait for the kill. The panther always waits for the kill. Time put her patience to the test, as the hand didn't shrink back into the car until a few minutes had passed. However, her patience was rewarded when a silver top hat cautiously peeked out from within the Mustang, glowing slightly under the moonlight. His signature hat, what a giveaway. Clad in black, the figure emerged from the driver's seat, holding onto the door for support. Her gaze focused onto the back of his head, where all of her company's secrets lay and pointed her rifle at it, longing to rid the world of his filthy existence. She had waited, patiently, in anticipation, for this moment throughout the night. And... Now. The bullet shot rang loud and clear, piercing directly through his skull, settling down within his brain. He was dead before he hit the ground, thick red blood pooling around his lifeless body.
Allowing a cruel grin to flash across her face, she stood up, wincing as stiff muscles groaned in protest. Frantic voices approached from afar, as the single beam of a flashlight found the victim's body. She walked off silently into the woods, her once-pure slate oozing red, red blood.
"Agent R, target cleared?" the low voice of her superior filled her earpiece.
"Yes boss, Jason Grace, down."
Crimson clouds completely obscured the pure-white moon, and the sky became streaked with blood—his filthy blood.