PrologueMature

    The double doors to the Laredo Falls High School opened and a mixture of ninth through twelfth graders streamed out into the bright April sunshine.
The freshman were teeming with more enthusiasm than the seniors, whom were more interested in finding a quiet place to light their smokes, away from the prying eyes of the adults.
The loud commotion notified the person on the third floor of the building across the street.
She sat upright and punched a number into her cell.
It rang twice and was picked up.
    "Yeah," a steely voice said.
    "It's me," she said and rubbed her neck. "I'm in position."
    "Stand by."
She sighed.
    "Yeah."
She disconnected the call.
She sighed again.
A rare smiled played across her face, as she watched the children through her scope.


    "I'll be back in fifteen," Principal Brandow said.
Cheryl didn't look up from her computer. Christ, she never did. She'd just nod.
He could run back and forth, butt-ass naked, singing Yankee Doodle Dandy and she'd just probably nod and say what a nice song.
He grumbled and walked out.
Martin Brandow loved the noon hour. It gave him an hour of uninterrupted quiet time. Just a man and his thoughts.
It also gave him time to walk down the locker-lined hallway and glance into the classrooms, to make sure there was nobody sneaking around or stealing shit.
Not that it really mattered to him anyway. He hated this school and everyone in it.
The school itself was dilapidated and falling apart at the seams. Not to mention, the locker's needed repainting and the roof still leaked from two winter's ago. And the teacher's lounge? Forget about it.
But, what he really despised besides the teacher's and the school, were those mealy-mouthed little bastards, that came to school and expected to be taught shit that they'd never fucking use.
However, to every dark cloud there was always a silver lining.
He was the principal and he did have access to every square inch of the place. Even if he couldn't stand the sight of them, they did make for great bedtime viewing.
He pushed through the double doors.
He made it a specific point not to venture too far or to mingle too long outside. He just wanted everyone to know who was in charge of things.
    "Principal Brandow?" A teenage voice called out.
He sighed. Fucking figures.
He would've pretended not to have heard her, but he was a sucker for sixteen year olds, with their short skirts and perky breasts.
And this one had both, along with flowing red hair.
He felt that all to familiar stirring in his loins, as he watched her approach. She was many, among many, of stars in his video library.
    "What can I do for you?" His smile was ever so friendly.


    "No, no, no," she whispered.
This was all wrong. She glanced at her watch.
The window of opportunity was very small to begin with. She knew this from observing Martin Brandow and his habits. And this wasn't one of them.
He would normally just stand on the top of the stairs, hands on his hips, and chest stuck out. Like he was important or something. And within minutes he would duck back inside.
She felt like screaming.
What the hell was wrong with you? Didn't you know who that man was?
Of course, nobody knew who he was, except for her and her employers.
Her cell phone buzzed.
She answered it.
    "Yeah?" She said.
    "What the hell are you waiting for?" The voice hissed. "You don't have very long."
    "No shit." She said. "But, I can't get a clean shot."
    "You'd better find one. The clock's ticking."
She sighed and looked through her scope again. The girl was showing Brandow something and he was patting his pockets and shrugging.
    "No good," she said. "There's a girl blocking my shot. I'll hit her."
There was an eerie silence on the other end of the phone.
    "And? This is why we pay you. If somebody else dies, all the better."
She was a contract killer. She killed for money. What she didn't do was kill unnecessarily. Especially a child.
She did have a conscience after all.
    "It's not happening," she said.
    "You shouldn't have said that."
The caller disconnected.
    She was ready to pull out, when she heard tires braking to a stop. She looked to her right and down the street.
A black Escalade was parked on the corner, and four men piled out.
    "Shit," she whispered. "Where's the trust?"
She didn't want to kill the girl, but if they got involved, they'd shoot up the whole school. And there was way too much of that lately. Unacceptable.
She focused the scope and aimed the rifle.

The End

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