Author's Note: I'll keep all the parts in the same post, so they are easier to find.

 

 

 

[hide= Prologue]

 

 

 

Prologue

 

 

 

Abraham Armando. The name arrived, with a photo of a middle aged man, printed next to the address- 33 Bloomsbury Road. The name kept churning in the assassinÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s mind as he investigated the sign marked Commonwealth Bank, and the door which the victim would walk out of. The first name, Abraham, kept pounding his brain like an iron fist, reminding of what had started this all.

 

 

 

Rudy Ryker kept trying to tell himself that it was all for a good cause, and he didnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t have a choice but he knew it was a lie. He kneeled on the second floor of a five story apartment, his window slightly open, just enough make certain that the bullet would fly through. He cocked his gun, aiming the deadly weapon just below the black worded sign. Commonwealth Bank. He kept the gun steady, his finger on the trigger. He could come any time now. But the target never came out. Fatigued, Rudy relaxed his gaze on the revolving doors, and loosened his grip on the rifle. He immediately became alert when a shadow cast through under the sign. He grabbed at his gun, nearly letting off a blind shot. A man walked out of the doors, his back turned. From the back, his hair looked vaguely familiar to the man in the photo. When the man turned back around, Rudy let out a sigh of frustration, nearly shooting off a bullet in his rage. He wasnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t the right man.

 

 

 

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Abraham had changed his last name from Smith to Armando long ago. He hated his old name, which had been said with scorn so many times. Abraham also wished to erase all memories of his parents; the ones he blamed for everything that went wrong on his lifeÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâæthe second people on the hit list after the one he hated mostÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâæRudy Ryker. Abraham, a serial killer had hired Rudy to do his dirty work, their only conversations by phone. Today, he had sent Rudy his own name, phoney pictures, and an address where the target would never walk out.

 

 

 

Today, Abraham would have revenge on the one he hated the most. He sped through the straight stretch of road, as the police station came looming into view. He parked a few blocks away from the station, opening the door of his two seated Ferrari. Abraham, physically weak, only had to run a hundred meters before his face turned beetroot red and began panting like an asthmatic. When he burst into the police station, he almost collapsedÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâæof laughter. How easy could this get?

 

 

 

ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâ¦Ã¢â¬ÅWhatÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s the matter?ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâÃ

Part 2 now up. Enjoy

Ok readers (if there are any), Part 3 is now up!

Can someone read this, because part 4 is up....

Wow, you have great writing style =D> .

 

Excellent looking story so far - waiting to see more :D.