It was past midnight when the hitman came to kill me.
I am, technically speaking, a hitman myself. Not a very good one, I suppose, considering I’ve never killed a single person. But I digress.
I was lying on my bed, thoroughly engrossed in a new book I had picked up at the bookstore the other day. My bedroom was spacious, perhaps ridiculously so. When you had the money, you flaunted it; That had always been my philosophy, anyways. There were times when I felt a pinprick of guilt about how I had gotten as rich as I am, but I figured the men I had taken it from were probably worse sinners than I am. It’s karma, in a way.
I felt something was off as the man made his way down the hall. One had to trust their intuition in the career path I had chosen, so I slide off and under my bed. Just in time, too; the man was in my room, night-vision goggles on, a wickedly sharp knife in his hand and a gun in his belt. I mentally sighed. He was clearly an amauteur. I took the flashlight I kept under my bed and pointed it at his eyes.
He screamed as the bright beam of light hit him. I was out of the house before he finished screaming. This wasn’t the first time a situation like this had come up, and I already had a plan to get out of the area. A good backup is a necessity when one makes one’s living pissing off those who have already stooped to murder.
I sprinted out of the front door and into the yard. A car sat waiting at all times of day. Hopping in, I put my foot to the pedal. The car ripped out of the driveway and onto the street.
BANG! A gunshot rang out behind me. I swerved the car, but it was too late. There was now a smoking hole in one of my tires.
Chancing a glance behind me, I counted at least three men in a black car, right on my tail. I had angered more people than I thought.
I threw the car door open, jumped, and rolled. Then I was on my feet, sprinting zigzag and praying I didn’t get shot. I couldn’t afford a peek over my shoulder, but I hoped my stunt had bought me some time. There was a train station less than a mile away, then from there to the airport-
BANG! A piercing pain registered in my shoulder. I stumbled but kept running, swerving, making my movements as random as possible. It was to no avail. Another shot hit my side. This time I did go down, my face hitting the wet grass.
I rolled over to see a man’s face looming over mine. He smirked. “I never seen so many men all out for one guy. Ya must’a done somethin’ real bad.”
Another man appeared, gun in hand. “You die tonight, anyways. Might as well tell us.”
I coughed. “Tell me,” I muttered, voice slurred. “Do you take all your payment after the job, or half of it upfront?”
They answered the latter.
"As I thought." cough “You don’t have to do the job after you take your up-front payment, though, do you?” cough. “What are they going to do,” cough, “call the cops?”
They looked at each other, understanding in their eyes. Then the man’s face hardened. The one holding the gun.
“But look where it got ya.”
One last shot rang out. Blackness.