Darren

Darren Newfeld ducked behind the railing of the rooftop, and removed the sniper from its guitar case. He had picked it up from some guy representing his newest client. He stroked the barrel of the gun, and peeked over the railing at the city below him. It was busy as ever, people walking around talking on their phone.

He put the sniper carefully on the ground and set up the stand for the gun. The place he had chosen was perfect. It was the perfect distance from her, and it was practically the highest building in the vicinity. Nobody would be able to see him. He finished setting up the stand and placing the sniper on it.

He looked into the scope and focused on his target. The grey-haired woman was seated outside a restaurant, sipping some drink under an umbrella. There were plenty of people walking around, and she just sat there, clueless about what was about to happen.

A bird flew by above Darren. He removed his eye from the scope and looked up, and saw a bird flying vaguely in the distance. He put his eye back to the scope and watched, waiting for the right moment. His finger curled around the trigger. "Any minute now," he whispered to himself. He moved the gun slightly, positioning it right on the woman's head.

He heard a beep sound from his watch, and he pulled the trigger. No sound of a shot. The woman dropped the cup in her lap, and her head fell face first on the table. He quickly began to dismantle and place the sniper back in its case. People were beginning to notice the woman with her head strangely on the table.

Darren picked up the case and walked swiftly out of the rooftop, taking the stairs two steps at a time. As he went down, he could hear sirens of either a police car or an ambulance getting louder. Maybe both. He reached the ground floor and took the back door out. The same man who had given him the case was standing there. He gave him the case, and in return, the man gave him a suitcase. Darren opened the case. Money, filled to the top. He closed the case.

He turned in the opposite direction and walked away. The voices of the people mumbling about the horrendous murder were fading away as he kept walking. He took a few turns before reaching the nearest Metro station. News didn't seem to have reached that place yet. After all, she had been murdered 3 minutes ago. He waited, pushing the sleeves of his suit back to check the time on his fake Rolex watch. He had worn a suit so that nobody would get suspicious about a 20-something fellow carrying a suitcase.

A train stopped in front of him. He was standing in front, so he quickly beat the crowds to a seat. People swiftly filed in, and an old man sat down next to him. Darren smiled, and looked out the window. As the train set off, he saw police walking onto the platform. He turned his face away from the window and looked straight, waiting for the train to stop at his destination.

After an hour, the train stopped at its final destination, before it began its journey back to the initial station. The remaining people exited, including Darren. This station was comparatively emptier and darker than the other station. Darren quickly left the station. It was bright and sunny outside. The skies were clear.

He took many rights and lefts, going deeper and deeper in, before finally stopping in front of a 2-storeyed apartment. He stepped forward, pressing the upper button on his right. "Yes?" A voice crackled through the speaker. "Let me in, Mom!" he shouted through the intercom. A few seconds of silence. "Yes, honey." The voice was so unclear that he couldn't say if it was a male or female.

The door clicked in front of him. He let himself in and shut the door behind him in. As he walked to the stairs, he heard the sound of a door open behind him, but he didn't dare to turn around. His neighbour happened to hold the ultimate grudge against him. He reached the top floor of his broken down block and saw his mother standing at the door, leaning against the frame of the door. She saw him, and sighed, before turning to walk in again.

Darren quietly followed his mom back inside. She settled herself on the worn down sofa sitting in the middle of their desolate flat. He sat down next to her and opened the suitcase on his lap. He showed its contents to her. Her eyes widened with pleasant surprise, her hands reaching out to touch the green paper. He placed the case in front of her and got up, removing his jacket in the process. He left it on the sofa and walked to the kitchen to make a sandwich. He heard the suitcase being closed and the sudden blaring of the TV.

He pulled out bread and cheese from their tiny fridge and began making a sandwich. "Was this you, Daz?" my mom called out from the hall. "Hm?" he said, walking back into the hall with the bread in my hand. I looked up from the bread and saw the dead woman on TV, in some news channel. The newsreader was saying, "Amanda Wilson, who was running for mayor, was murdered ruthlessly today at 12:15." Darren laughed. "Ruthlessly? All it took was one shot to the head. I saved her a lot of pain from becoming mayor by shooting her," I replied. Mom turned around to look at me. "So, it was you?" she asked, sadness inherent in her brown eyes. I nodded, biting the sandwich.

She sighed. She turned back to look at the TV. "You should stop doing this, Daz... There are other means for us to get money, you know," she said sadly. Darren shrugged, joining his mother on the sofa. He swallowed and said, "How else could we get money, Mom? Nobody'll take me for a job, not with my bloody leg." He nodded at his leg. "I'll work, honey, but it doesn't mean you should kill people for this. We can survive without others," she replied.

He shook his head. "No, Mom," he said quietly, fixing his eyes on the TV. Some people were arguing about who could have possibly had the need to kill Wilson. Darren sighed. "It's too late for that now."