Current mood:	crazy
Current music:	notorious b.i.g. - respect

Tyrannical Pt. 4
Paranoia, anxiety and incredible fear - most certainly not a good recipe for the determined human psyche. Since I laid eyes upon the photograph of the cop back at the Don's headquarters my mind has been swimming in a tsunami of worry. I am so Goddamn sick of worry hurting my poor, poor stomach. It feels as though I ate a bowl of maggots and now they are eating me away from the inside. Slow and painful. Ever so painful. Nonetheless, I have a mission that must be accomplished, no matter how shitty my insides feel. Right now, I am faced with the epitome of blackmail, forced to proceed upon an impossible mission in order to stop a relentless bastard from completely fucking up my life. Fucking Rachel. Goddamn slut. I don't have time for this bullshit. I'm a fucking hero, a legend, a role model for those living in generations before my time. The boss can kiss my ass, I dont care what he says, I'm not cut out for this shit. The nickel-plated nine millimeter handgun radiated a strong tingle throughout my gripping palm. Ever since the hefty combat shotgun clutched within my responsive hands fell to the floor after... it, happened, I experienced a constant craving for a filler to consume the new and hungry void. Nothing is quite similar. The power, the confidence, the ultimate sense of invincibility. Nothing else can replace the truly unique feeling. With dexterous hands, I slipped each round, given to me by the boss, one by one in to the shiny clip. The bullets soon to be shot out at my targets seemed to symbolize my life, my existence; fast, purposeful, devastating. My fingers pointing to the sky made the latex gloves snap on with ease. As smoothe as John Travolta in "Grease", I not so much stepped out as I did glide out of my car and began to gracefully walk towards the towering skyscraper ahead. A strange sense of pride pumped throughout my veins. Never, ever, would I have chosen to become a hitman. The truest path of desinty brought me here. People say life is a matter of choice, not fate. Evidently those people have not actually lived their lives. Don't pass on advice unless you know what you're talking about, fucking assholes. My first mark is supposed to be on the roof of the building ahead, right now, patiently waiting to snipe a target that does not exist.
Don Giovanni made arrangements for the now futile pawn to be set up with yours truly a couple weeks back.

Thousands of pigeons dominated the enormous concrete centrum in front of the building, chirping to one another, ignoring the constant flow of people passing by their temporary territory. The flying vermin were downright fearless, like myself, ignoring the potentially dangerous members trampling onwards. Arrogant businessmen and salicious sluts alike stepped by the birds with a surprisingly close proximity. The sentinel pigeons stood their ground nonetheless and would only move a mere inch or two if one of these mindless beings should happen to stomp too close. I admired the birds. In actuality, the birds are probably too stupid to even realise what's going on around them and inevitably accustomed to the frequent commotion surrounding their unfortunate habitat. Who knows? A smile cracks every time I see them anyway. For only a short moment more I was able to enjoy the pleasant animals. Abrupt as a tremendous lightning bolt striking from a clear blue sky, the courageous pigeons flocked away in two seperate waves, resembling the sea divided by Moses back in the day. No signs of unforgiving weather were present and I found myself wondering "What in the world could scare all these proven pigeons away at the same time?" but continued walking nonetheless. At the other end of the flowing bird wave tunnel was the infamous assassin, holding a black briefcase and standing perfectly still. Unlike the pigeons, I failed to sense any indicators of his menacing presence. It was no coincidence that this modern day warrior happened to to be treading the same level of ground as myself. The boss set me up. But why? Wasn't I the promising lethal prodigy waiting to be let free? Surely the boss wasn't the kind of man to throw away something so potentially valuable. Maybe this is no setup. This is a test. Regardless of the lengthy distance between us, I could see that he was looking directly at me. Even from here, I noticed his face flinch when he caught the sense of familiarity gleam across my eyes.
Breathe steady, see your enemy.
The assassin dropped to one knee and began to open his small, black briefcase which inevitably contained a monstrous firearm.
Let's show em' what you're made of, kid.

Hasty as hell, I crossed my arms across my bullet-proof chest and clutched the two handguns resting against my sides. Just as fast, the assassin rised back into an upright stance from his empty suitcase and brandished an astonishing MP5K PDW submachine-gun. I had seen the impressive weapon many times in cinematics, and although those guns were not real, they still precisely immitated the gun's apocalyptic capabilites. People all around started screaming bloody murder. Opposite to the assassin's methods, I dropped down to a knee stance and instantly took a roll to my left side. Machinegun fire rippled around where I previously dropped and began to swerve like a desert snake towards my constantly changing direction. Innocent bystanders fleeing around me lifted off the ground from the sheer force of the rapid bullets ripping throughout their vulnerable bodies. Most unfortunately, I once again experienced someone's hot blood spraying all over my unexpecting face. Gross. Could be worse, I figured. Better them getting hit than me. Human obstacles were my only chance of living through this terrorizing ordeal, so, I traveled deeper into the panicky crowds. At first, I was disgusted by the hordes of people crowding the centrum. Now, they are my only hope. More screams and gunfire polluted the area while I swerved and shoved my way back to the idle car nearby. As if perfectly timed out, the amount of people around me drastically decreased just as the roaring gunfire halted, suggesting the assassin had run out of bullets. In an instant, I spun backwards, still running, and popped off a shot with each 9mm handgun in the assassin's general direction. My weapons seemed inadequate for the demanding predicament. Keep going, don't lose a step. Entering the car casted a much needed sense of relief in me. Now, proteced behind this powerful machine, I had somewhat of an advantage. I started the car and began driving right back to the concrete centrum where my enemy waited. Within a few seconds of wreckless driving, including a few (hopefully) dead bodies being run over, my car was approaching the assassin in mid-reload. He started firing before he had even fully raised the gun and bullets sparked off the hood of my sedan. I accelerated. Continuous gunfire crackled and my eardrums felt like they were going to burst open, creating hideous and bloody wounds. I kept driving. The car glass shattered and produced spiderweb imitations, making it nearly impossible to see where I was steadily going. The true meaning of intsenity filled the rattling car and I bared no more, finally leaning down to the passenger seat while trying to hold my foot on the gas pedal. The crunch of an impacting body shook the utterly destroyed sedan and some sort of intuition suggested it was my target. Still, I kept driving. The car suddenly dropped to a lower level and already I knew that I was headed straight for the descended lobby area of the building. More sounds of shattering erupted as the car plowed through a gigantic glass wall establishing the front entrance of the skyscraper. For reasons only God knows why, I kept driving. My destructive journey abruptly halted when my car crashed into the marble front counter of the building's lobby, fatally crushing the assassin in between. Not quite as smoothe as before, I hesitantly stepped out of the wreck and looked around at all the building's employees staring at me. Always with the staring. I took one last look to verify that the assassin was indeed dead and then I was gone with the wind. Countless people undoubtedly saw my recognizable face. So much for that hero title I was striving to hold. Like I said before, ain't no turning back now. You've got a cop that needs a killin'.