Washington D.C. July 22nd, 2006. 2100 hours

            The senator walked out of Capital Hill exhausted, having already stayed much later than usual. Straightening his tie, he prepared to head home for well-deserved night’s sleep and maybe even get lucky with his much younger wife. The senator smiled to himself at the memory of how he snatched his wife from a male model at Chicago. Stretching, he let out a loud yawn and headed home.

            The night was dark, but in the light-polluted city of Washington, that didn’t do much. However, the senator still failed to notice the footsteps echoing behind as someone tailed him out of the Capital Hill perimeters. The stalker would have stood out like a sore thumb in daylight; he was in a black leather trench coat with a black collared shirt underneath, a red tie was fastened about his neck and a black fedora covered his face in shadow. Black leather gloves covered his hands even though it was summer and his shoes were something of a cross between combat boots and dress shoes.

            The man followed the senator silently for three blocks, heading into a fairly deserted neighborhood where the streetlights were flickering. The senator didn’t seem too fazed about it; after all, he had passed through this place every day for years. But he didn’t know that today, he would step into its shadow for the last time.

            Reaching into his coat, the stalker drew out a suppressed 9mm. 92FS. Silently, the he leveled the gun at the senator’s skull and squeezed off a silent shot. The aged man died without knowing what hit him, his irises suddenly dilating as the bullet exited through the other side. Blood mixed in gray matter spurted from the hole, and he fell forward into a pool of his own bodily fluids. The stalker holstered his weapon without breaking a stride and walked into the distance, straightening his coat and his fedora.