Assassin: A Weapon With a Purpose

Assassin

“A weapon with a purpose”

                How does it feel, to know that you are going to victimize someone? How does it feel to stalk your target like a shadow? Seize them when they are most vulnerable? Does it bring you pleasure, so intense, almost sexual in nature? Are you a coward and do you become overwhelmed with guilt? Or rather, do you feel nothing at all? In this line of work, there is no personality...no feelings. Who am I? You ask. The real question is what am I? For, I have no personality and automatically, that denies any possibility of me being a human like you. So, let me answer your real question, what am I? I am the empty blackness in the corner of your mind that has no sensitivity. Some try to give me a name, but in reality I have no name, for I am an object and not a living being. I don’t kill, I merely activate the dark area in the far parts of your brain, which you fear to even venture towards. I flood you with the same emptiness which has already flooded through me. When you are about to be killed, your entire life flashes before your eyes. It serves as a reminder of all the opportunities you had to empty yourself, but chose to live in your superficial cocoon. You could have made yourself famous and feared, but what would have been so sweet about it is the fact that you wouldn’t care about any of it. Nothing would affect you. No emotion to impede your progress, no relationships to trouble your mind, no thought but that which pertains to your mission to change the world, to help the billions of people across the world wake up, and realize what they were born to do, and show what happens to those who have wasted their entire lifetime in an emotional shell which they call life. However, it is unfortunate for you that you have not elevated to our level, and probably never will. Our kind is bound to die out soon, but when we do, you ignoramuses will all realize the destiny you could have possessed, and understand that our end is only your loss.

                I, being the instrument of justice, have a target. I must bring a man to his senses, and show him what he could have become but what he failed to be, you would term that as killing. We call it enlightenment. This man is very important as well. He is the richest man in the city in which you live, and has an edge over you. He oppresses you, and makes your everyday life miserable. You are afraid. What do you do? Get someone, or rather something, else to take care of it.  Why? Once again, you are afraid. If only you had emptied yourself of those emotions, you could have enlightened, or in your words, killed, the man yourself. The world would rise to much higher levels. Unfortunately, emotions are hardwired into your brain. So, we, the group of soul-less shells, are burdened to help of the very ones that try to bring us down.

I am set up as a sniper, atop a building, aiming at the bedroom of this man who supposedly troubles you. My finger closes over the trigger, and I shoulder the rifle against my chest. My charcoal black gun and jumpsuit keep me enveloped in the darkness, for that is what I truly am. I am the darkness which surrounds you. I am also the empty darkness within you…the darkness which you hesitate to embrace. The man who I am about to enlighten pulls the covers over his body as he lies in bed. Such insecurity you people have. For mere cold, you seek the comfort of another material object. Same goes for your fear, for which you seek the assistance of a weapon. That is what we are…weapons. You need tools for everything. You seek reassurance, when all you truly need is yourself. I look through the crosshairs of the rifle, and aim at the man’s head. My finger tightens, and I cease moving temporarily. The target is at his most vulnerable state. He mustn’t be allowed to escape. He had chances in the past…to realize what he really was and exploit that potential, but due to his sheltered life, failed to do so. I finally pull the trigger, and continue to stare through the scope of the rifle. The bullet shatters the window, and penetrates his skull, and the man falls dead, or as I say it, enlightened. My job is done. My body is useless now, as it has served its purpose. Why leave behind trash for others to pick up. Let me dispose it off. I pull out a side arm…a COP 357 Derringer. The company that made it is defunct, as I am soon to be. It only has one bullet, as a weapon is only meant to be used once. I put the gun to my head. I feel nothing but cold metal against my organic machine of a body. I walk out to the ledge. The trigger is pulled, and the tool which was used to bring that man to his true senses, falls over the edge of the building into a dark abyss. What am I? I am an assassin.