The creed of the Cleveland mafia is that its enemies die ignoble deaths. No trials, no recognition of any ability they hold, not even a record of their order to be killed. A quick, surgical procedure, a reflexive, impassive, reaction to eliminate an enemy that leaves behind only the slightest of blemishes, soon to be hushed up and covered for fear of prompting more invisible executions. Traitors and rebels may gird themselves for the unlimited waves of soldiers crushing their apartments underfoot, car-disintegrating improvised explosive devices, and fearless, unstoppable, merciless lawyers. Yet, how they quail when oh so casually, their honored leader, god figure, demagogue, idol, chosen one, noble general, great hero, neighbor, friend, mother, father, child, or, in this case, mayor falls lifeless, a round dark hole in their forehead.
"Do not fail."
Most munitions that this assassin had dealt with previously had been subsonic, quiet, subtle machines that he was expected to keep hidden and assemble on site; other rules stated that all weapons had to be legal in the affected states, to make law enforcement think that the mafia's judgment came from the people.
Although the contract had been called off many years ago, it no longer mattered to the assassin. She had tracked the political career of this man, Dennis Kucinich, since he was the youngest mayor of Cleveland ever, watching and waiting for the opportune moment to strike. She? He? The assassin no longer remembered what it was anymore. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered anymore was the target. They called it the Rabbit long ago, and it had staked its professional career on the elimination of this one man. With each passing moment its hatred of the man's policies grew until it was so extreme that it crossed the paradox line.
?I...can't.?
It levelled its rifle, a poor old battered thing, and fired into the crowd.
When Kucinich came to, he found himself on a hard, wooden floor. Crickets chirped outside and it was dark, the only light coming from a small gas lamp placed by his cot. He was both confused and slightly terrified. His only memory was of hearing shots ring out as he stepped out of the station, then being clubbed unconscious. His head hurt.
Then he realized he was not alone in this room, wherever it was. Something was there with him, a shadowy figure sitting on a chair in the corner that watched his every move like a hawk. He shuffled awkwardly from time to time, or was it a she? It was impossible to tell. There was an extremely awkward silence.
Finally, Kucinich spoke.
?Look, I don't know why you did this but if it's money you want...?
?No!? the shadowy figure called out, ?It's not...not like that.?
?What??
?Well, I- You see, the thing is-?
?I don't understand. Have I done something to you that I should know about??
Kucinich was confused. Maybe it was one of the crazies with a gun that appeared from time to time, shooting members of Congress because they disagreed with some policy or other. It was insane. He was about to become the next Representative Giffords.
?Y-you did?, the shadowy figure stuttered, then mumbled something.
?I'm sorry, I didn't catch that last part.?
It mumbled again, a little more audible this time.
?You're going to need to speak louder than that. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong.?
?you stole my heart?, it said finally.
The silence that followed was almost palpable.
?Wh-what??
?I-I just don't understand it!? the figure ranted, ?ever since I was young I've always despised you and everything you stood for! When you wouldn't bend to our wishes I was sent to kill you but for some reason I can't!?
Kucinich could not help but stare in absolute bewilderment.
?You have to help me!? the figure implored, ?I don't think I could bear to be away from you any longer.?
Kucinich chose his next words very carefully, ?Look, I don't know who you are, but I don't think I'm the one who can help you. I have a family. I have a constituency that needs me. I can't just leave them all for someone I barely even know.
?I know that?, the figure whispered brokenly, ?and its left me in a bit of a bind.?
There was a thump as the figure laid something on the ground. Kucinich reached out for it, and felt the heavy weight of a pistol in his hands.
?It's loaded?, the figure said.
?What are you doing??
?This is the only way it can end. You can't stay here, and I can't stay away from you. Now it's time to choose. Kill me and you can leave.?
?Wait, you don't know what you're saying.?
?Choose or I'll shoot you and rid myself of these feelings.?
?There has to be another way to resolve this.?
?Choose!?
?I can't!?
?CHOOSE!?
Deep in the forest, a single shot ran out and the birds scattered.
Word Count: 863
