Ficly

Trust

They gave me a gun. But, I took the world, I thought as I turned from the room, placing my gun back in the holster concealed under my tuxedo.
It felt light. It hummed. I could feel the heat of its muzzle ever-so-slightly through my white cotton shirt. It was happy. So was I.

I walked from the room, noting that nothing had fallen out of place… except for the body lying on the floor.

I’d done the job.

I walked down the hall, back to the elevators, and met a man who had just pressed the down button. The man nodded at me. I smiled back, recognizing him.

“Prime Minister,” I said. “So good to see you.”

“All well,” he asked. His double chins wobbled as he extended a fat hand.

“Yes.” I gave a slight bow.

“Your payment was wired, as you instructed; it’s waiting for you in the Caymans.”

“Good.” I pulled out my gun and shot the Prime Minister just as the elevator opened with a soft ding. I padded across the carpet and got into the descending car.

I learned the word assassin and watched cities burn.

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