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Betrayal |
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You can't run from your past |
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Best Friend Means I pull the trigger |
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You can't run from your past
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 Created on 5-18-07
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 Story Rating G
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His eyes glowed with anticipation, showing no signs of compassion. He stood in the dark. Silent. Waiting. For who, he did not know. But one never questioned the money. And this time, the money was big.
“So let me get this straight. You want me to wait there for god knows how long for someone I don’t even know?”
“Yes, that seems about right,” the old man crooned, “and when you do see him I want you to kill him on the spot.”
“What am I going to get out of it?”
“Well, if you open the suitcase there in front of you, you’ll find enough of a persuasion for any man. But-” he said snapping it shut and removing it promptly from the other man’s sight, “you only get it when you’ve finished the job.”
Leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, the man simply asked, “When and where?” “Excellent,” the old man exclaimed, “and I think you should find this whole ordeal pleasantly surprising in your favor.”
The sound of a car door. Snapping out of his daydream, he quickly assesses his territory and soon spots his target, looking left, then right, crossing the street with his head down, steps hurried. “There you are.” the assassin whispers, barely audible, “Now unfortunately it is time for you to die.” Stealthfully, the assassin creeps out of his hiding place, and slips into the shadows, beginning his game of cat and mouse.
Crossing the street, the man kept his head down, and hurried across, praying no one would see him. He had never expected his life to take such a twisted turn. Everything had been going perfect. Until about a month ago. Feeling rebellious and untouchable he gave up valuable information in hopes of a better rank. He had been wrong. Only when he was almost killed did he realize that he had been used, and in result of that, was a traitor to one of the strongest, most powerful man in the city. How he hated himself for being so stupid. His life would forever be on the run. Even now he knew he would be tracked down, hunted like an animal, relentlessly, until he finally died, the revenge of a mob man complete. There was only one way he knew he could escape a traitors fate. And that was where he was going. From there he would be safe, impervious from any other attempts at his life.
Hearing a crunch of a broken bottle, the man quickly turned around, thoughts interrupted, and searched for any other sounds or movements. There was nothing, and yet he was so sure that someone was there, ready to pounce on him. “I must focus now,” the man said, mostly to comfort himself with his growing uneasiness. “I’m almost there.” Standing still for another minute, he finally decided he would be ok, and set out once more towards his safe-haven.
The assassin cursed himself for his slipup. He had not noticed the broken bottle until his foot was already coming down upon it. Instinctively he threw himself against the wall and hugged it, not breathing, and waited. He could see the man stiffen, turn around and look right at him, then look away. That face. He knew that face anywhere, engraved inside his mind all those years in prison; the one face that still haunted his dreams, taunting him with his freedom, his life. This was the man who betrayed him, deceived him, and left him out to dry. Lorenzo Donavinci. Ten years of his life had been wasted in jail, because of the man he now hunted. Watching Donavinci turn his back and walk away, the assassin smiles, his hatred burning through his eyes. “What a pleasant surprise,” he says, feeling his revenge forming in his mind, “what a pleasant surprise indeed.”
The traitor hurried through the alleys, winding in and out, throwing glances over his shoulder every once and awhile, feeling more confident with every step. Within five minutes time he would be safe, never to be bothered again. This was his last chance to leave everything behind. Every crime committed, every betrayal, every con, and every death. As much as he wanted to leave his past behind, it always found some way to catch up with him.
Lorenzo had become so immersed in his own thoughts again he barely heard the cock of a gun. Spinning around he sees nothing. There is no one behind him. This time he was sure he was being followed. Reaching into his pocket Lorenzo pulls out his cell phone, beginning to dial, when a voice, out of nowhere says, “If you press one more button you die. Now, put the phone down and step away, hands were I can see them.” Placing his mobile device on the ground, he takes two steps away and then turns around. At first he sees nothing but darkness. Then a man emerges, a face as cold as stone with a gun pointing point-blank at his head, and terror starts spreading through his entire body. “It can’t be him,” Lorenzo thinks fearfully, “It just can’t.”
He had been following Donavinci for about ten minutes now, seeing him speed his way through the backstreets he once called home. Any minute would be the time to attack. He could barely contain his anticipation. He would finally get his revenge. As he studied his victim, he knew this was his moment. Cocking the gun, he saw the man turn around, looking for the source of the noise. Silently sneaking behind him, the assassin noticed the man pull out a cell phone and begin to dial. “If you press one more button you die,” the assassin said, “Now, put the phone down and step away, hands were I can see them.” His victim obeys, taking a few steps backward until Donavinci turns around staring into the darkness, looking for him. He steps out, his face showing the 10 years in prison, and holds the gun directly at Donavinci’s head. He sees the fear in his face and smiles inside. “So we meet again Donavinci. I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me or not. I sure as hell remember you. I mean a man like you isn’t that hard to forget. Not after what you did to me. And guess what, it’s time for you to pay.”
How could he not remember him? This was just another man Lorenzo had conned and cheated, sending this innocent man to jail to save his own skin. Well, a kid was more like it. But he was not a kid anymore. The ten years in jail had really changed the once naïve boy. Lorenzo himself had aged. His hair was balding, with numerous grays setting in. His body had the appearance of someone who lost a lot of weight suddenly. But it was his face that had truly changed. He no longer wore the smug expression of a big-shot. His eyes held the look of defeat, acceptance that he was no longer the big fish in the sea. Younger, stronger, tougher men, like this boy before him, were the new replacements for old-timers like Lorenzo. And now he was faced with his past in this boy. The face of a monster. Listening to this boy speak, he knew he was doomed. His cold lifeless eyes, was proof enough, that he was not dealing with anything human. He was dealing with the product of his own vile past.
“Get on your knees,” the assassin says, tired of the game-playing. He watches the man obey once more, struggling to get down to the ground. “You are going to regret ever stabbing me in the back old man. I have lived in hell because of you. Every night I vowed to myself that I would kill you. Even when I took this assignment I had no clue it was you. Oh the joy I felt when I saw your god-forsaken face. All the years of waiting, and tonight I finally get my chance of revenge.” Without warning the assassin strikes, kicking him in the back, watching him fall to the ground withering in pain. He reaches down and picks him up, slamming him into the wall. In his rage he punches Donavinci over and over, on his face and in the stomach. As he stops to catch his breath, he looks down at the body on the ground, unmoving and deathly quiet. “Don’t die on me yet Donavinci. You are going to look me in the eyes when I kill you. LOOK AT ME!” he screams kicking the man once more.
At first the blows sent a searing pain into his body. As they continued however, it all felt the same. A black eye, broken jaw, he knew it was to end soon anyway. And sure enough, when Donavinci fell, total blackness came. He was sure that he was finally dead. There was nothing. Then a far away sound, the sound of the boy screaming, and a blow sent a jolt throughout his whole body. He groaned, turned over, and opened his eyes to see the assassin standing over him, looking at him with those cold dead eyes…
He watched the man jerk from his kick, and then roll over barely opening his eyelids. He stands over the man, not feeling any sympathy at all. He pulls out his gun, holding it like a mother holds her child. “My job is done old man. You have made my last ten years hell. But because of you I will now be rich.” Taking one last look, the assassin pulls the trigger, smiles as the last breath leaves the dying man, and goes to collect his payment.Comments
Please Login to post comments| On June 29th 2007 nygoldenchick Said : | |
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yea, i did :) |
| On June 3rd 2007 webbie187 Said : | |
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carzy u make this up? |
