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What would you do to get it?

Submitted:Nov 8, 2010    Reads: 36    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   

His surveillance was complete. It was time. Rodrigo stashed his binoculars. He let out a tension-filled sigh, looked toward the heavens, and quickly sketched the sign of the cross over himself. Dressed in black from head to toe, the tall and muscular man was just a shadow as he stealthily hopped the white picket fencing framing the front yard of the nice suburban home. He made his way to the front door, and ventured a quick look in every direction, ensuring that he was still unobserved. Rodrigo rang the doorbell, the small orange light illuminating the olive skinned fingers of his hand, and slid off to the side of the door, his back to the wall. As he drew his nine-millimeter handgun and screwed the silencer on, the door opened. Suddenly, every color seemed sharper, the gun felt attached to his arm. Time slowed, and he could feel his racing heartbeat throughout his entire body. The, dark brown curls of a woman's hair bounced a little, as she looked to the left and started to swing her head to look the other direction. Her eyes widened first in confusion, then in fear, as her killer came out from the night and grabbed her neck, pushing her back inside. Just inside the doorway, came the muffled sound of the pistol. Still pushing her by the throat, Rodrigo shot her in the stomach twice, and shoved her backwards, putting a round directly in her forehead, while she was falling to the floor. Her husband was just getting up from the dinner table. His kind and round face, framed by his thinning gray hair, showed a gaping mouth and vacant eyes that were trying desperately to comprehend the scene at hand. He headed toward the living room, ironically, the room of his beloveds very recent demise. The family's german shepherd, Clifford, likely smelling the blood and gunpowder, came dashing from under the table, with teeth bared and hair on end. In one smooth motion, the assassin grabbed a grenade, pulled the pin and almost casually tossed it into the room. The explosion was deafening as he dove from in front of the door, onto the stairway which led up to the second level of the house. With arms covering his head, debris of plaster, wood and gore pelted him. Once this rain of destruction ceased he stood, surveying this brief war zone. The hem of The woman's modest, light brown skirt was on fire, as was part of her leg. Rodrigo stamped both out. He straightened out her charred and bleeding corpse, brushing the pieces of former wall and furniture off of her, and crossed her arms over her chest. Just starting to weep remorseful tears, he turned to see the husband's severed and burnt head staring at him, still looking bewildered, asking even after death, "what the hell...?" never to finish the question. The killer picked up the head, wiping off as much of the black smearing as possible and closed the wondering eyes. Gently, he placed the head on the destroyed carpet next to the other body. Finding nothing except the occasion piece of singed fur, he gave up trying to arrange the family pet with the owners. He sat. He cried. After approximately a minute, he forced himself to regain composure. He knew he didn't have much time left. Rodrigo had to finish what he had come to do, lest these sacrifices were to be in vain. On shaking legs, he made his way down the hall, starting where the living room and dining room met, passing the kitchen on one side, then a laundry room on the other. At the end was a door. He had never been so overjoyed at the sight of an object so simple. This door, almost seeming to glow ever so slightly with its own inner light was a symbol to him, one repeating the words, "It's almost over. Finally done." Rodrigo knew it was just his stressed and excited mind telling him to perceive it in this manner, but this made it no less real. His normally steady hand was trembling, just barely, as he reached out and turned the knob, pushing open the entrance to the end of his mission. The garage was one like most others, tools, workbench, leftover paints, a well maintained car. A freezer chest stood in the corner. He ran to it, openly sobbing and laughing at the same time. Rodrigo threw the lid open, the internal light immediately blinking on and illuminating his face. There was a moment of panic, "Where is it? It was supposed to be right here!" Then, relief, as he spotted his treasure among frozen meats and sausages, popsicles, freezer-burnt chicken. Dripping a single tear as he picked it up, the thin foil covering, polar bear encircled in a burst of blue, containing his one desire, one single word printed across the top. The same word that he shouted to the ceiling and the universe beyond, in his triumph. He unlocked, the side door of the garage and let himself out into the driveway, there he stood for just a moment, unwrapping his prize. He was once again weeping, as he held the melt-in-your-mouth, chocolate coating in his hand for the first time. Walking away, he took a bite, the milk chocolate, doing its job and and giving way to the fluffy vanilla ice cream within. With the flavors showing themselves messily around his mouth, he began to smile through the tears. It had all been worth it after all.


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