CHAPTER TWO

Today was a new day, a day Sam hoped to be different, a day that was going to change how Sam viewed the world.

Sam was working on some new fighting stances when his Uncle called for him to his private dojo. Sam was the only person who was allowed in there. Every other person who was allowed in either ended up dead or came out with a few broken bones.

“What do you want?!”

Sam spoke. As an assassin, there was no need for formalities so every conversation was always straight to the point. Even though he spoke so coldly to his Uncle, he knew what Sam meant.

“Sam, I need you to go undercover and make sure an old friend gets a good place in hell.”

The entire time his Uncle spoke he had put on a straight face with no hint that he was bluffing.

Again with the same cold tone Sam spoke,

“Where am I going and when?”

It was like all the lessons he had been taught on how to respect the elderly were completely neglected, almost as if he had forgotten that he was talking to his Uncle.

The answer came swiftly and triggered something in Sam’s mind, something that was important to him,

“Germany. Berlin to be exact.”

Then suddenly as if a flood had washed over him he remembered that Germany was the place where he lived, a place where life was normal, a place where everything was right with the world but it was also the place where his parents died. Sam was at a loss for words and as if his Uncle could sense what he was feeling he spoke again.

“You leave this evening so I suggest you get packing. I will give you two hours then you leave for the airport.”

Just like that, the conversation was over and Sam left.

Later that evening after he had packed, his Uncle sent him a car that would take him to the airport. The academy was hidden in a remote location so it took some time for them to even reach the main road. They arrived at the airport and as Sam was getting out of the car the driver handed him a black manila folder with ‘CONFIDENTIAL' printed in block letters across the front.

“That is all the available information about your target.”

As if those words were a command or as if it was a trigger mechanism, Sam got out of the car and started walking so he could board the plane.

When Sam finally found his seat and settled down he got out the manila folder and opened it up. The folder only consisted of a small picture which looked like it had been taken from a bush and one paper which had brief information on his target;

Target:

First name: Connor

Last Name: Unknown

Age: 18

Family: Deceased

Occupation:

Target is currently a senior at Macendric High School but works part time at 'Its O'clock Café

Physical appearance:

Target has brown hair and light hazel eyes. He is 6’5 and has a muscular stature.

To Sam it was always a wonder how these profiles were put together. They were always short and at times did nothing to help him on whatever mission he was to be working on but either way he always got the job done. he took out the picture and looked at it closely, scanning it to make sure that the picture was ingraved into his mind because he knew he has to get rig on this file as soon as he was done. The more he stared at the picture the more he started to notice little things which made him feel like he knew this person whom he was sent to kill. Sam didn't like overthinking things and especially not this so he just put it off to the side and tried to relax.

Somewhere between the cheap peanuts and the boring movies he fell asleep and before he knew it he was in Germany and although he was very tired he managed to get to his apartment. The apartment was a not too shabby four-roomed house that had a kitchen, bathroom, living room, and bedroom. It was the perfect home. Note the sarcasm. The living room had a very distinct stain on the carpet that looked like a coffee spill but just in case Sam made a mental note not to go near the thing. The bedroom wasn’t half as bad as the living room but still wasn’t somewhere he would willingly choose to stay. All Sam wanted right now was a good sleep in hopes that the jetlag wouldn’t hit him as hard.

Sam woke up the next day to the sound of his annoying alarm. 02:00 the clock displayed. Sam had always woken up at the same time for the past four years to sharpen his skills but deep down Sam knew it was because of the ghosts of all the people he killed that haunted him and prevented him from getting a good night’s sleep.

His Uncle already had someone hack into the school's system so that he was in all the same classes as his target. It’s funny how they were able to hack into a random school's computer system but couldn’t find out the last name of some……dude. Maybe his Uncle did know his target's last name and just didn’t want to tell him but Sam wasn’t going to ponder on the possible reasons so he dismissed it and focused on his mission.

For this mission, he was going undercover as ‘Mick Grayson’, one of his many aliases but one that he never liked. ‘Mick, what kind of name is that?' he thought to himself as he prepared for school. The best part of being an assassin was when he got to use his favorite gun, the gun that always helped him in times of trouble. His Beretta 92, one of his most valued possessions. He was so attached to the gun that if the gun was human he would adopt it.

After preparing himself for school he headed off to the place he hoped could give him even the slightest taste of a normal life. Sam knew that hope was a dangerous thing so he extirpated the thought of having a normal life. After all, normal was the only thing Sam didn’t know because ever since his parent’s death normal had seized to exist in his vocabulary, and the only thing that made sense was;

‘To kill or not to kill……scratch that, to definitely kill’