The Hit

Sunshine flooded into the room. John sat holding his gun, cleaning it. Each individual bit, spring and component was being cleaned and each bit was out on the table in front of him. His gun was the most precious thing in the world to him and today he had a job to do and he was not going to fail, and neither was his gun. After he had reassembled it he holstered it. Grabbed his jacket and put it on, the jacket was worn slightly and was a long one and stopped at his knees, he grabbed another gun and holstered it. He walked to the door and opened it the sunlight flooded his eyes grabbing his sunglasses from his packet he put them on.
Stepping out he hopped onto his motorcycle, parked at the side of the road, started it up and rode off into the morning. “John the target is twenty meters” a voice came from inside his ear. John braked, the bike skidded but before he flipped into the air, and landed directly in front of his target. Looking up “Hi there you are the target so start running.” John drew his weapons.

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