Tunnel Vision

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Cover image: pixabay.com.

Submitted: August 01, 2020

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Submitted: August 01, 2020

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Tunnel Vision

There is a reason why I have become one of the world’s most sought-after assassins. I’d never have thought that there would be so much demand from so many places; I have retained my independence from any government. Some call me a mercenary, and at one time it would certainly have been true to say that I would work for the highest bidder. Not so now, for I am wealthy enough to pick and choose and be guided by my morals rather than the price tag. Yes, sometimes I will work for free if the cause is good enough.

Would you like to know the secret of my success? Tunnel vision! I’m the human equivalent of a locked-on missile. Once sighted, my target will not escape, for nothing will distract me from the pursuit.

Take earlier today, for instance. I was on the tail of a serial rapist, one that the courts had acquitted due to technicalities. He’d been free for a month, but already was threatening other women. Someone tipped me off, and this was a job I would do for free. My sister had been murdered by someone such as him and that was enough of a motivation for me to see him dead.

He lived in a room in a seedy part of town. As with so many of these places there’s always plenty of people on the streets, most of them just standing around trying to drum up business of their own. I wasn’t interested in them, they had their own lives to decide about, ruin if they wanted to. What they represented to me were obstacles, something to be weaved around as I trailed my target, waiting for the right opportunity to strike.

He was walking along, hands in pocket and head down. Me, I was focussed on his every move, every step, as I swerved along behind him. If anyone spoke to me I didn’t notice, but I knew with certainty that no one had addressed him.

This is the land of tenements and alleyways, where the homeless and the addicts propped themselves against the walls. He takes a left and a minute later so do I. Time to decrease my peripheral vision that bit more, and make the tunnel that I’m looking through narrower and narrower until I am ready to strike.

He senses me, far too late to make his escape for I am already leaping through the air, blade in hand. His half-turned stance makes my job easier as I push the blade into his neck, slash, and dodge the stream of blood I’ve caused. It takes remarkably little time for someone to bleed out from such a wound as this.

I watch him twitch, knowing that he deserves this, that society would secretly be backing me even though I am about to die myself.

Stop, police!”

I keep moving, watching and waiting, my tunnel vision tracing the path of the bullet that is about to plunge into my chest. This cop is taking no chances, going for the kill rather than immobilizing me.

I feel the bullet penetrate my skin, travel between my ribs until it enters my heart and everything goes black.

The next thing I know is that I am laying on a metal gurney, covered up from head to toe. I listen, unmoving until I am sure that I am alone in the autopsy room. It’s silent. I reach up and pull back the cover, straighten my clothes that have yet to be removed and make my way to the door. I know exactly where to go to get back on the streets, walking away.

For this is the other reason for my success. Not only do I have tunnel vision, but I am impossible to kill too.

 

 

 

 

 


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