- There are nuanced and specific distinctions between a hit and an assassination. It's as much mental justification as it is dissonance reduction.
- I was dispatched to a location, given a cover, and an alibi scheme via mobile device. It was a gig.
- My goal was to take a target out. The assignment was without context. No context; no remorse.
- I arrived at a small, dark shop on the outskirts of a big city to drop a middle-aged, unkempt black man; the proprietor.
- Identification was verified. Work began.
- I couldn't though, for some compassionate reason, bear to kill the man eye-to-eye so I had to drop something on the floor and shoot him in the temple as he bent to pick it up. It was messy as hell. I felt I knew this person. I felt a little touch of remorse.
- I packed a silver pistol with silver silencer. It was heavy but I knew it to be reliable and efficient. I was a killing machine.
- Instead of a mob-style "pop & drop" where one immediately drops the weapon after a kill, I kept the weapon with me because I feared for my safety. I had no attachment to the weapon but I believed that I still needed it to survive.
- I hid the pistol under the front passenger seat but was highly cognizant that I had to dispose of this dirty weapon as soon as practicable. As I drove it audibly shifted with a heavy thud to my right.
- I didn't want to but I had to drive dirty to my alibi/cover location to meet friends who didn't possess knowledge of my occupation and would have only missed me for minutes. Mental note: "dispose of the gun" - ran on endless loop. I kept an eye out for disposal sites (dumpsters, ravines, storm drains, etc.).
- Dinner with unsuspecting friends and all that was on my mind was that they had no idea I was a professional (albeit empathetic) killer for hire. And damn good at it. I told them I was in "consulting."
End.
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