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The Assassin (WIP Story)
Former Member
Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
Here is what I have so far, I don't claim to be any shakespear but I would like some comments and criticism as I aspire to be a writer when I have finished school.
The story follows the life of a leading assassin, and the ghosts of his past that haunt him daily.
1
The man perched himself on a small patch of tiles at the top of the building. He had been following his target for 2 entire months, and for what; a 10 second job for some easy money? “No“, he thought to himself. He brushed a hand through his infinitely black hair, feeling the sweat from the sheer anticipation of what he was about to do.
At the same time, the target sat inside a posh restaurant, enjoying a portion of cheesecake. His name was Teuril Mensuta, and he was a well respected businessman. Unfortunately, Teuril tended to do as he willed, regardless of who he offended. Little did he know that this meal would be his last, and as he exited the restaurant, the assassins plan commenced.
The door to the restaurant swung open and the man who had been so calm instantly reacted. Standing, he proceeded to jump from the top of the building, snatching a small, slender H&K USP from his trouser pocket and shooting once. The bullet hit with perfect accuracy to the forehead.
Of the wrong man.
The assassin landed softly on the floor, distributing his weight. “Denzel Avens. I should have know it.” Teuril said, his voice tainted with hatred. “What is your problem with me?” He asked, never breaking eye contact. Denzel found it hard to match this, but still spoke softly and calmly. “I know what your doing Mensuta. I know all about your plans to bring back the Celands.” Teuril glared at him. “What’s your point?” He whispered after what felt like an eternity to Denzel. “The point is” Denzel replied, raising his pistol “That you aren’t going to see tomorrow.”
Another bullet was fired, and the now silent and still corpse of Teuril Mensuta dropped to the floor.
2
Denzel was a man of skill, an expert in his field. It was no wonder then, that instead of sleeping that night, he stayed up wondering how he managed to miss Teuril from such close quarters. “It was just a bad shot” he reassured himself over and over until the sun finally began to splinter across the earth, and Denzel Avens was yet again made to get up and see his boss.
Skipping breakfast, he proceeded to get dressed hurriedly, throwing on a brand new jacket and grabbing the nearest watch to him. He headed down to his sleek silver Audi R8, making sure he wasn’t being watched or followed; In his line of work, it was particularly easy to make enemies, so Denzel was always cautious of his surroundings.
After 20 minutes of driving through some of the most covert routes Denzel has ever seen, he reached his bosses headquarters, and as he rolled up quietly to the door, he could have sworn he saw a glimpse of someone run away into the nearby woods. Someone or something.
Something familiar.
Snapping out of his daze, he swiftly moved to the door and knocked three times, slowly and exactly, always striking the exact same position. The door swung open and a tall, bold, executive looking man stepped out and grabbed Denzel’s hand, pulling him into the rather violent handshake Denzel had grown accustomed to every time he met with this man. The man of course, was his boss, A Mr O’Neil. Originally from Ireland, he moved to London after the murder of his wife and children and began a business in assassination. Denzel had always been fond of Mr O’Neil. Everyone always expected him to be some crazy bloodthirsty man, but really he was just a human being with a terrible, corrupted past.
Finally releasing his grip, he looked at Denzel and said peacefully “Lets go for a walk. We need to talk.” He began to pace away slowly, staying just close enough to Denzel so they could talk face to face. “How did it go?” Asked O’Neil slowly and quietly, looking rather far off. “Fine, Mensuta is gone, nobody is left to bring back the Celands.” Replied Denzel, a light grin forming on his face, only to be shattered by O’Neil’s next words. “They are already back.”
For the next 7 minutes or so, Denzel found it almost impossible to form a complete sentence. “Bu..Wha..Whe..” he stuttered repetitively, eventually stopped by O’Neil, who slowly raised a finger to Denzel’s lips in a quietening manner. “Yes, they are back. Mensuta, it would seem, was but a distracting to lure us away from the real culprit.”
Denzel, who was finding this information hard to digest, decided to sit down on a nearby stump due to the fact he felt as if he was about to collapse. “Listen, I’m going to leave you to let it sink in. I’ll send an assistant along to look after you.” Said O’Neil, patting Denzel on the shoulder and walking away. Approximately 1 minute later, a tall, cheery looking girl strode across the compound towards Denzel. He stood to greet her, when suddenly his eyes blanked and Denzel’s legs gave way.
He awoke with a start, flinging his upper body forwards violently. “Calm down, you have suffered some form of mental breakdown and shaking around like a mad man isn’t going to help.” Said a soft, girlish voice. Denzel swung around to see the assistant from before, who passed him a glass of freezing cold water. “Thanks” He coughed out, downing the glass of water quickly. ”Mr Avens?” Said the assistant “Yes?” Replied Denzel, wiping a small bit of blood from his forehead “I..I was wondering if you could tell me about the Celands.” She questioned, sounding almost ashamed to ask.
The story follows the life of a leading assassin, and the ghosts of his past that haunt him daily.
1
The man perched himself on a small patch of tiles at the top of the building. He had been following his target for 2 entire months, and for what; a 10 second job for some easy money? “No“, he thought to himself. He brushed a hand through his infinitely black hair, feeling the sweat from the sheer anticipation of what he was about to do.
At the same time, the target sat inside a posh restaurant, enjoying a portion of cheesecake. His name was Teuril Mensuta, and he was a well respected businessman. Unfortunately, Teuril tended to do as he willed, regardless of who he offended. Little did he know that this meal would be his last, and as he exited the restaurant, the assassins plan commenced.
The door to the restaurant swung open and the man who had been so calm instantly reacted. Standing, he proceeded to jump from the top of the building, snatching a small, slender H&K USP from his trouser pocket and shooting once. The bullet hit with perfect accuracy to the forehead.
Of the wrong man.
The assassin landed softly on the floor, distributing his weight. “Denzel Avens. I should have know it.” Teuril said, his voice tainted with hatred. “What is your problem with me?” He asked, never breaking eye contact. Denzel found it hard to match this, but still spoke softly and calmly. “I know what your doing Mensuta. I know all about your plans to bring back the Celands.” Teuril glared at him. “What’s your point?” He whispered after what felt like an eternity to Denzel. “The point is” Denzel replied, raising his pistol “That you aren’t going to see tomorrow.”
Another bullet was fired, and the now silent and still corpse of Teuril Mensuta dropped to the floor.
2
Denzel was a man of skill, an expert in his field. It was no wonder then, that instead of sleeping that night, he stayed up wondering how he managed to miss Teuril from such close quarters. “It was just a bad shot” he reassured himself over and over until the sun finally began to splinter across the earth, and Denzel Avens was yet again made to get up and see his boss.
Skipping breakfast, he proceeded to get dressed hurriedly, throwing on a brand new jacket and grabbing the nearest watch to him. He headed down to his sleek silver Audi R8, making sure he wasn’t being watched or followed; In his line of work, it was particularly easy to make enemies, so Denzel was always cautious of his surroundings.
After 20 minutes of driving through some of the most covert routes Denzel has ever seen, he reached his bosses headquarters, and as he rolled up quietly to the door, he could have sworn he saw a glimpse of someone run away into the nearby woods. Someone or something.
Something familiar.
Snapping out of his daze, he swiftly moved to the door and knocked three times, slowly and exactly, always striking the exact same position. The door swung open and a tall, bold, executive looking man stepped out and grabbed Denzel’s hand, pulling him into the rather violent handshake Denzel had grown accustomed to every time he met with this man. The man of course, was his boss, A Mr O’Neil. Originally from Ireland, he moved to London after the murder of his wife and children and began a business in assassination. Denzel had always been fond of Mr O’Neil. Everyone always expected him to be some crazy bloodthirsty man, but really he was just a human being with a terrible, corrupted past.
Finally releasing his grip, he looked at Denzel and said peacefully “Lets go for a walk. We need to talk.” He began to pace away slowly, staying just close enough to Denzel so they could talk face to face. “How did it go?” Asked O’Neil slowly and quietly, looking rather far off. “Fine, Mensuta is gone, nobody is left to bring back the Celands.” Replied Denzel, a light grin forming on his face, only to be shattered by O’Neil’s next words. “They are already back.”
For the next 7 minutes or so, Denzel found it almost impossible to form a complete sentence. “Bu..Wha..Whe..” he stuttered repetitively, eventually stopped by O’Neil, who slowly raised a finger to Denzel’s lips in a quietening manner. “Yes, they are back. Mensuta, it would seem, was but a distracting to lure us away from the real culprit.”
Denzel, who was finding this information hard to digest, decided to sit down on a nearby stump due to the fact he felt as if he was about to collapse. “Listen, I’m going to leave you to let it sink in. I’ll send an assistant along to look after you.” Said O’Neil, patting Denzel on the shoulder and walking away. Approximately 1 minute later, a tall, cheery looking girl strode across the compound towards Denzel. He stood to greet her, when suddenly his eyes blanked and Denzel’s legs gave way.
He awoke with a start, flinging his upper body forwards violently. “Calm down, you have suffered some form of mental breakdown and shaking around like a mad man isn’t going to help.” Said a soft, girlish voice. Denzel swung around to see the assistant from before, who passed him a glass of freezing cold water. “Thanks” He coughed out, downing the glass of water quickly. ”Mr Avens?” Said the assistant “Yes?” Replied Denzel, wiping a small bit of blood from his forehead “I..I was wondering if you could tell me about the Celands.” She questioned, sounding almost ashamed to ask.
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