Alan awoke at 7.00 a.m - The assassination introduction. just as he would on any other day. Lazily, he clambered out of bed, slowly lolloped over to the window, where he drew back the curtains. He looked down from his second floor flat, at an already very panic stricken Victoria Street, in Battersea.
Alan was a very successful car salesman, although one would not have said that he was always very honest or trustworthy. Alan owned his own car show room which was situated about five miles to the south of Battersea, where he lived. He was always boasting about his car showroom. His arrogance of nature, together with his dishonesty were possibly the reasons why he hadn’t had a relationship in ten years. Little did he know that his actions of last month would soon lead to catastrophic consequences. Or would it?
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Sean was most certainly not a man to be messed with. Alan had therefore picked on the wrong man in this instance. The car that he had been sold, and had been assured was absolutely brand new, in fact wasn’t. Sean soon discovered that it had several faults. These faults, he learned, would cost in the region of ï¿½2,000 to be rectified. Sean tried to be reasonable, and gave Alan ample opportunity to change the car. However, when Alan stubbornly and smugly refused to co-operate, Sean swore he would get his revenge on Alan. As Sean stepped out on to Moore Street in the centre of London, he had only one thought on his mind.
London was in the middle of winter, the temperature was below freezing and the roads were twinkling frostily. Alan had just begun his five mile walk to work and already there was quite a thick smog lingering over the city together with a strong waft of choking car fumes.
Sean was already stepping out of a taxi in Victoria Street. He had been watching Alan very closely for the past four weeks and had devoted a lot of his time to stalking him, knowing exactly what time he woke, what time he left for work, what pub he drank in, where he went after work. He even knew exactly what he had for lunch, but that was the nature of Sean, always completely focused on the job in hand and never becoming distracted or fouling up.
Sean had been following Alan for several minutes, keeping a close eye on his every move. Sean’s long black coat began to flap in the wind and his curly jet black hair was blown out of his face to reveal menacing green eyes and an angry expression drawn all over his face. He was going to get his revenge and it was going to be sweet.
It was then that Alan made a quick dart down a very dark and winding alleyway. Sean became increasingly suspicious, knowing that this was not Alan’s normal route that he would take to work. He quickened his pace, faster and faster until it became a run. Sean began to panic and he had every right to, as this wasn’t going at all to plan. As Sean turned down the alleyway, he was horrified to see that Allan wasn’t there. ‘No,’ he whispered under his breath through gritted teeth, ‘this can’t be happening!’ Sean became disorientated and began to run down another long, dark and empty alley, not having a clue where he was going. He was becoming increasingly confused but didn’t get very far; ten paces down the alley, Sean was stopped dead in his tracks. He heard a loud crack and his first reaction was that of complete surprise and shock, unable to move a muscle.
Sean felt a sharp, red hot poker-like pain to the centre of his body and clutched his stomach in sheer agony. Blood pumped through his fingers as he cried out for help but it was pointless. He had been shot and nobody could hear his screams.
Slowly, Sean turned around to see Alan standing twenty paces in the direction that he had just come from. Alan had cunningly ambushed Sean, with ease. Another ten seconds passed and Sean dropped to his knees, staring at Alan in disbelief. Casually, Alan began walking towards Sean and by the time that he reached him, he was dead.
The pavement oozed with Sean’s still warm blood. Alan removed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and began wiping the revolver with it. As soon as he was convinced that any trace of a finger print on the gun was removed, he placed it in his victim’s hand and began walking away without a second glance