Hey guys, this is my first post so I am quite nervous. Of course you know what to do. Thanks!
The assassin set up his new rifle to the test.
It was a Mosin Nagant M1891/30 PU
The rifle a sleek wooden design. It was very light - even for a child it would be. Although it was made back in the 1940’s it was one of the most effective rifles. It was with this rifle that the Russian hero, Vasily Zaitsev, killed around 400 German soldiers in World War Two.
His rifle was specially modified; it was broken down into its basic components and oiled to make a perfect release time. The scope was the most modern scope in the world used by the SAS, and the Navy SEALS.
The best part of the gun?
Just remove three screws and he could break it down and simply put it in a sports bag undetected. As an assassin, that was a main part his job.
World War Three was about to break out.
And he was going to start it.
He set up the rifle across a similar building vaguely shaped like the targeted one. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a car - the same Rolls Royce model the target would us - appear. Swiftly, he set up the cross hairs at the door. Slowly, he adjusted the elevation of the cross-hairs and waited...
A filthy figure appeared, taking place in this simple model.
Slowly he walked down the red carpet flanked by huge body guards.
He waited...
Then just before his head met the middle of the cross-hairs, he released the trigger. At that moment he felt like the ruler. To take a life with a simple touch. A heart surgeon you might say, but this time he was there to take a life, not to save it.
The bullet sped across the fifty meter distance burying itself above the cervical curve severing the spine. The man was dead before he hit the ground.
The young assassin rose, smiling coldly as if he merely watched a cartoon taking place.
‘Bravo. Bravo, your skills have, indeed, sharpened as they say.’
He turned around to face the French man.
The speaker was strongly built like a wrestler and had cold, black, beetle eyes. On his head was a tattoo shaped like a Cobra underneath the hair. It was they who hired him. Cobra.
That name sent chills down the spines of Presidents. The FBI, SAS, and MI6 had trouble catching those guys. They were the exact meaning of professional. Cobra. Corruption. Oblivion. Rage. That was what they were all about. Destruction.
‘I told you the job would be done at the festival!’ The assassin whispered furiously. ‘Now get out of my hair!’
Suddenly, the French man was grabbing him by the hair brandishing a Commando knife. Slowly like a butcher slitting the throat of an animal, he cut off a lock of hair. ‘Do not anger moi. You know quite well what I - what we are capable of.’ He chastised him.
He let go of his hair and dropped a metal suitcase at his feet. ‘This has your payment - $500,000 in cash as you asked. You do a mistake and I will make sure that you will be wiped off from the face of the planet. That’s after we torture you, of course.’
He laughed coldly and left.
The stunned assassin didn’t touch the suitcase. He promised he would open it right after he killed the target.
Then he’d kill his employers.
Miles away, a woman was watching him snap up the suitcase and leave. ‘He’s perfect, skillful yet disposable. Just the way I like them.’
Christopher Robin.
A name that even the heads of Cobra feared. However the name was insignificant today.
Two miles away from the White House, they were just having their meeting.
The greatest criminals in the whole world, the kind of criminals that plan and never get caught, first launched Cobra. It first started for it’s own purposes. Now it works like a mercenary group. Today all twelve of the founders were there as usual but there was another man; a customer.
At the head of the table sat a man named Zorn the leader of Cobra.
‘Welcome back my family, tonight we have a special guest who offered eighty million dollars for a small task that we yet need to know.’ He informed them.
All of them looked towards a small beady-eyed man. ‘My name is –’
‘We need not to know your name, all must be secret.’ Every eye looked carefully at the leader.
He was a tall, broad man. Once he thought of becoming a wrestler but he was quickly drawn to the world of criminals instead. His white skin was unblemished and his nails were cut and manicured. Underneath the military cut was a tattoo of a striking Cobra. All of the winced when they met his eyes; he simply radiated power and fear.
‘Well, yes, the task is very simple, I need you to start World War Three.’ He muttered.
This small mutter was met by silence.
A woman leaned forward ‘Simple? You are a very modest man.’
Suddenly the man smiled ‘I provide the task, you provide the means, I was told that you were the very best. Don’t let me doubt that.’
She grimaced and forced a smile ‘Of course, we shall do what we can, is there any other simple requests?’
‘Now that you mention it, yes,’ the man leant back ‘The United States of America, Russia, The United Kingdom must fall.’
A man stood up abruptly and began to yell ‘Are you barking mad, lad? You’re talking about very powerful nations here, this is impossible!’
Zorn slowly stood up, ‘Sit down Cuthbert and restrain yourself.’ Cuthbert grabbed his chair furiously and slammed himself down. The leader took a deep breath ‘We already had a plan going that would give us power, it would certainly assist your plan in a way.’
He remembered the sniper and the cheap price he will pay for the kill. Of course the sniper never knew the after-effects. He will never know. Zorn will make sure he won't live that long.
The customer brought up a briefcase and passed it to Zorn ‘Since you will go through so much trouble let’s make it a hundred million. Fifty now, and fifty when the job is done.’
He first swiped the briefcase with a bomb and a metal detector taking no chances. When nothing came up on the detector he opened to see lots of hundred bills neatly placed within it. Immediately he snapped the briefcase close and nodded towards the door and someone showed the man out.
The same man who retorted before began to protest once more. ‘This is impossible! We can’t start a war.’
All around the table, people nodded.
‘Not just any war, he’s talking about a major one, World War Three which must be started by something big.’
Zorn smiled coldly.
‘Of course Cobra can’t start a war…’
‘However a president can…’
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