It was supposed to be an easy kill…

Victor stood in the dusty grey church yard, gazing at the old building of worship. He reached into the pocket of his black trench-coat and felt the but of his smith and Weston magnum. It wouldn’t be long now til’ he would be using it.

The yard was empty now, all the church goers had long since trickled out and headed on into the world to sin no more. A cool breeze kicked up thousand year old dust and dirt. Tiny head stones popped out of the ground like gruesome flowers. Victor couldn’t help but feel a bit creeped out by the isolating loneliness of it all. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t felt that way before. It was hard not to feel lost in this grey city, in this grey world…Victor sighed, like all the rest, this was going to be an easy kill…

That’s when he heard it, high heals on concrete, it sounded like gunfire. Again victor found his hand in his coat pocket. His trigger finger itched intensely, but he had to relax. If he lost control, things would get to be too sloppy. He had to breathe deep, wait for the right moment, and then pull the trigger. That way it would be a clean kill, and before anyone even realized what had happened, he'd be gone, a ghost amidst the people. He’d stand among them, behind the yellow police line. He’d say how he was walking his dog when he saw the commotion. And when the shocked, faceless lambs pointed to the body, small and crumpled… lifeless… well, he would give a little gasp and turn his head in disgust. No one would know; no one would suspect. And at the end of the day, no one would even remember his face.

The foot steps grew louder, and Victor felt himself grow more anxious. He had done it a hundred times before, but for whatever reason it always made him feel this way. He pulled the magnum out of his pocket and pointed it in the direction of the steps. She rounded the corner with a certain level of grace that normal people didn’t have. She seemed to almost be floating. She stood maybe 5’ 6”, and wore a deep slate grey skirt suit which hugged her in all the right ways. A big floppy black hat threw most of her face into shadow. Long dark hair fell in waves over her shoulders. Victor stared at her over the barrel of the gun, making sure he aimed right for her heart. The women froze, her gloved hands made a fist, but then relaxed.

It was going to be an easy kill…

Victor’s finger moved to the trigger, he could feel the tension in his hand as the anxiety and excitement built up inside him.

“You’re here to kill me aren’t you?” her voice was soft as velvet, something about it was both warm and sensual. It hit Victor like a freight train and suddenly he couldn’t move.

“Well are you?” she said as she lifted her head. The dark shadows that had concealed her face disappeared into her dark hair, and there they were, the greenest eyes Victor had ever seen. They shone brightly in the grayness that surrounded them. Victor could no longer breath, all he could do was stare into those eyes.

“Well, get on with it” she said, placing a thin hand on her hip. She took a step toward him, in his mind Victor was screaming to pull the trigger, to end this and get on with his day, but his body was no longer his own. She crossed the distance between them and stood with the barrel of the gun pressed firmly against her ample chest.

“Come on now hit man, shoot me. If your not going to do this now, then I have other things to do today,” She said with a giggle. Her breath was so cold against his skin, it made the hair stand on end. She smelled of cinnamon. The woman lifted a nimble hand and wrapped it around the barrel of the gun, and slowly she pushed his arm back down to his side. Victor felt the anxiety in him subside.

“Until we meet again hit man, and I’m almost positive we will… meet, again” she laughed. She gave him a little nod and strode off toward the bustling city.

It was supposed to be an easy kill…

Yet he couldn’t pull the trigger. How had he let those green eyes hypnotize him so? How could he be so foolish? Victor pocketed the magnum and took a deep breath. The smell of cinnamon still lingered in the air. It was the only evidence of the woman left there in the yard. Even her foot prints had been blown away by the damn wind. Victor began to realize this was maybe going to be harder than he thought. With another deep breath, Victor headed off into the city, to the nearest bar. He just had to shake this awful feeling he had. The feeling that everything… was about to change.