They walked slowly on the balls of their feet. They didnt want to attract attention or alert the target. The two of them had been waiting on the upper floor all day for her return, and they had had nowhere to sit. They were fighting boredom and fatigue but like the professionals they were, they had patiently awaited the sound of the footsteps they now heard moving along the hallway outside the target's apartment.
A big part of their job was playing the waiting game and they were very, very good at what they did.
The closing of the door and the lock clicking into place was their signal. They quickened their pace, moving lightly and effeciently as they descended the staircase.
It almost felt like an anticlimax after the long wait.
The first and larger of the two guys threw his shoulder against the door. He was built like rugby playing baboon. He appeared to have no neck because his ears lobes seemed to be attached to his shoulders, which gave the overall impression that his knuckles would scrape on the ground as he walked. The door collapsed like a felled tree, almost immediately. The second guy walked straight in behind his partner - his gun drawn, complete with silencer, and put a small hole straight through the centre of the targets forehead. She still had unspoken words of surprise and outrage forming on her lips as she fell. The shooter then put another round into her chest, more for pleasure than as a safety measure and they both turned and walked out smiling as they went, a job well done.
8 seconds max, death to getaway.
They walked casually back to their patrol car, got in and drove away.
It was only the briefest of starts to a war.
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