The Two Hitmen

He was waiting, positioned in the building with the barrel pointed towards the street. His eyebrows furrowed together and his finger pulled the trigger since his target was in sight. Dead. His crew emerged from the shadows to clean up the body. Mission accomplished.

He called his client on an untapped line. "We're done here, Mr. Horerra. I'm expecting the payment to be wired directly to my account in no more than 2 weeks."

"Not a problem," the other man said. They hung up.

He knew his next job was going to be special since Grant Roskev was requesting his services. When it came to high-end jobs Roskev never disappointed, sometimes he paid him millions to kill elected officials of foreign countries. Not because he had to… Because he wanted to. He dismantled his gun, put it in his suitcase, headed to his private abode, and fell asleep.

The next day he made his way to Grant's office. He was one of the only people to have direct access to the man himself, the one who was responsible for killing Reynold Revachi, the only man thought to be immortal in their time. He walked in and with no ceremony, he cut right to the chase.

"Your next target… Is Luke Sanchez."

His eyebrows raised, slightly, but just enough to give away his surprise. "The man responsible for single-handedly bringing 12 countries to their knees," he said in a deep and serious tone. Revachi was the Immortal Man, but Luke was just as dangerous - his latest feat consisted of him infiltrating the dictator's palace in Iran, slitting his throat, taking over the country, and making the inhabitants for him. He had billions of dollars coming in from all around the world, but he was still for hire because he simply enjoyed the work.

"He has almost discovered my office, and one of my larger stashes. He's meddling and he needs to go. Take as many men as you need."

He turned and started walking away when Roskev called out to him.

"Peter." He stopped, but didn't turn around. "Do not underestimate him." Peter stood still for a second more, then continued walking.

---

His sources told him Luke's location, and that he was going to be there for 3 days to settle a deal. NYC. He was also receiving real-time location updates through his earpiece, so he knew he could take his time while setting up the rifle.

He always hung his two dog tags on the barrel. They were special, non-reflective, and the only thing in this world that meant anything to him, so he kept them with him at all times.

"10 minutes earlier than expected."

He had to hustle. If Luke was early then he only had 5 minutes to get everything together and get into position. He managed to do it, though, and still had 15 seconds left on the clock.

Luke walked into his sight from behind a skyscraper and stopped right in front of Peter's scope to make a phone call. This was perfect. It was too easy. And it was definitely Luke since he had a slight hobble, a hobble that Peter had the pleasure of inflicting himself. The doctor said it was for life. He scoffed when he remembered that.

He had to be careful since he knew Luke had men with him at all times, even if they weren't in sight. If one of his men noticed Luke getting shot, they could pinpoint his location and kill him without a second thought. So, he waited for his men to give him the clear.

He sat there, ready to pull the trigger. He could taste it. Finally, the death of his rival was upon him, if he even had the decency to be his rival. Maybe 30, 45 more seconds and his men will know if he's being watched or not. Then it would be all over.

But what's this? He briskly hung up his phone and ran for cover! Shoot! He knew he was there. He had to. Peter grimaced in anger, he picked up his radio and said "status report" in a surprisingly calm voice.

"He doesn't know your exact location. He knows you're in the area. Relocate with a 79% success projection."

He had never been quicker in his life than dismantling that sniper rifle at that moment. "Relocate," he whispered to himself, "it's Luke. Relocating won't do me any go-"

He felt the barrel on the back of his head.

"So, you're the one Luke's trying to kill! It's a shame he won't be able to do it himself."

"I'm Luke's target?"

"No, you two are best friends forever! You guys sing lullabies and cuddle with each other before bedtime. Of course you're his target! That's why I'm here!"

This guy's obviously lost it, Peter thought. I can just grab the gun and be okay.

"Hey buddy!" A voice shouted from the entrance to the abandoned office. He was on the 7th floor, and that's why it took so long for his men to reach him. But they were finally here, two of them, and they certainly out numbered Luke's plan.

"Took you guys long enough," Peter said as he mule kicked the hired hand, quickly turned around, and grabbed his gun. He must have slightly exposed his head because a shot came from outside, shattering the window and hitting Luke's bodyguard, probably by mistake.

"Down!" He screamed as the three of them took cover. Shots came in from all sides and they were effectively pinned to their one spot. The intels radioed instructions to anyone outside telling them to find the source of the fire, but half of the team was dead, so they didn't have a lot of hope.

Gunshots began appearing from beneath the floor as Peter heard Luke's demented laugh. He shot back and hoped to hit him with a stray bullet, but deep down he knew it wouldn't work.

"I found you, Peter Pan, I found you!"

"Can you believe it?! We have each other as targets at the exact same time!"

"Ohh, you're going soft aren't ya?! Take this big boy!"

A shot rang through the floor and barely missed his shoulder. He wondered how long they were going to be pinned down because they had to go, now.

He formed a risky plan that just might work! A weak spot was starting to appear on the floor from all of the gunfire and carnage, but it was near the two intels. There was also a large printer just out of their reach. He radioed to them, "drop the printer through the floor and shoot him."

They immediately caught on and threw the printer. It went through the floor, but they didn't see Luke. He wasn't shooting anymore either. Where did he go? There was only one entrance to the room and the intels were guarding it, so Peter had a momentary sense of relief despite the gunfire coming through the windows.

He heard screams and grunts outside, and with every sound, a little bit of gunfire ceased. Yes, they had found the source! Soon the gunfire stopped entirely and they were no longer pinned down. The only question was if Luke had any backup, and if Peter knew anything about this legend of a man, he had backup.

He and the two intels looked through the floor. They moved around to get as good of a view as they could, but they couldn't see if anybody was down there. The entire 6th floor was damaged, though, so he could have escaped in any one of numerous ways. He motioned their hand signal for "keep a lookout."

Peter had to make his way to the door from where he was, which was close to the window. Luckily, the wall below the window was thick and high off the ground, but he knew he had to get up and run if he wanted to make it - the wall wasn't high enough to cover him if he crawled, plus he had to jump over a big hole in the floor.

"Am I clear to stand?" His radio chirped with an immediate response. "They killed half. You don't have full intel. You have a 50/50 chance."

He turned and told the two with him to make room. They unblocked the door and began pointing their weapons down the hallway.

He knew there was no time. The floor was unstable, and Luke probably had more men on their way. He had to get up and jump that gap, then make it behind another wall, and he had to do it now.

3...2...1…now, he thought. He got up and ran towards the entrance. He jumped the gap, but while he was in midair, the sound of a gunshot came from down below. Luke was still down there, and he tried to shoot him as he was jumping over the gap!

"You've always been a nimble one haven't ya?!" He spoke with a gruff and halfway-crazy voice. "I mighta missed but I'm still comin' for ya and all that!" He laughed his famous maniacal laugh as Peter ran down the hallway with the two intels in front.

They could hear Luke running below them, so they knew he was following them based on the sound of their footsteps. Surprisingly, nobody tried to stop them, it was just the two men trying to outdo each other. The intels would go into one room and then into another to try and fake him out. One would run one way and the other would run a different way. Nothing was working. Peter had to call for backup.

"We're mobile in the building" he halfway yelled into the radio. "I need all eyes on us, look for Luke on the 6th floor!"

The radio responded with static.

"Intel, respond!" Still nothing.

This is bad, he thought. Even if they managed to outplay Luke, one of the most skilled hitmen in human history, his men were most likely right outside and ready to-

He heard a distant crash as if a crowd of people had just entered the building's bottom floor.

"FBI! Show yourselves!"

What? He certainly wasn't expecting the FBI yet. The lights were off but it was daylight, which meant it would be difficult to hide from them. They'd eventually find their way to the 6th and 7th floors, and when they did, he and Luke were both getting life sentences… If they weren't executed first.

"Clear!" He could faintly hear them clearing the bottom floor. He still had time. He motioned for the intels to move quietly and they made their way to an office window on the opposite side of the building. He took a peak, and the entire building was swarming with cops. This is no good, he thought to himself. One of them radioed in a chopper, and their request was granted, but it was coming in from a ways away, so they had to wait 15 minutes at best.

"Clear!"

"Damn it, they're going fast" he whispered. "The chopper won't be here until too late."

They made their way back to his suitcase so they could grab some essentials. Most hitmen only carried a sniper with them, but Peter liked to be prepared - 3 smoke grenades that doubled as tear gas grenades, 3 gas masks, a pistol with a silencer, and a small device that supposedly jammed the communications of everyone within a 450ft radius… Supposedly. His friend made it, and his inventions were known to be faulty. But it was the first of its kind, and it was definitely worth a shot.

"Floor 3, clear!" Okay, he knew his plan - wait until they make their way to the 6th floor, jam their communications, take them out when they get to their floor, get to the roof, and escape on the chopper. His only question was, what did Luke have planned? He knew Luke too well to think he wasn't going to do something.

"Clear!"

"Floor 5 is clear!"

One more to go, then they reach Luke. He wished he knew where Luke was so he could stand back in case his plan involved something explosive. He knew he couldn't have jumped down because the cover outside was too much, even for a hitman of his caliber.

They heard footsteps. They were there, searching the floor for any criminal activity. They scattered all about, splitting into teams and taking different hallways. Peter motioned to one of the intels and he clicked the button on his device. Nothing seemed to happen, but he was told communication jams were silent… He just wished he trusted his friend more.

"Clear!"

What? How? Luke was good at hiding but not good enough for the FBI! Besides, he was on a small building floor, they could have found a hairpin if they wanted to. Either way, they took their positions.

They rushed up the steps. 13, 14, 15. At least 15. Peter was hiding in the storage room which was facing the wall opposite the stairs, one of the intels was outside the storage room with his gun pointed directly west of it, and the other intel was in the room west of storage, ready to shoot them from behind. He was the most vulnerable, but also the more experienced of the two. All three of them had their gas masks on.

Peter threw a smoke/tear gas grenade that ricocheted off the wall and landed right in their face. It blew up, and they were wearing masks themselves, but they only seemed to be partially effective - they started coughing and wheezing. They tried to shoot him through the wooden wall, but he was face-down on his stomach, as was the intel on the other side. They stormed around the corner to enter the storage room, only to be met with shots in the face from one intel, and shots in the back of the neck from the other. They did such quick work of the 14 FBI agents that none of them even reached Peter, and he knew they had to move to the roof as quickly as they could.

Next to him on the ground was a black book with a $20,001 check laying right next to it. He thought it was strange that the book had no title, but he picked up the check before quickly leaving the room. Maybe I'll survive and be able to spend it, he thought.

They climbed the stairs to the 8th floor, which took a surprising amount of damage from their first scuffle. The 9th. The 10th. They had 10 or 15 more floors to go, and even if they got there, they had to wait out the hundreds of armed men at the bottom who were undoubtedly on their way up after hearing what had just happened.

11. 12. They were almost there, but the FBI was right behind. Peter decided to do something risky; he pulled out one of his smoke/tear gas grenades, set the timer, and left it at the top of the stairs. By the time they reached it, it would go off in their face and ruin their day.

16. Here was access to the roof. They had plenty of things to hide behind, so they took the most optimal positions and waited. No one was coming up. Interesting, he thought, they should have been here by now. Maybe the grenade slowed them down more than he thought it did.

No, wait, never mind. He could hear men down below and the door to the roof opening. Three dozen men flew out. The three of them were hiding very well, but it was only a matter of time before they were pulverized. The chopper still had 5 minutes or so. It wasn't going to take them 5 minutes. Maybe 2, if we're lucky, Peter thought.

"Search the area!" They yelled as Peter seriously considered giving up. But he didn't have to - one of the agents ran right to him and pointed a machine gun at his face.

It was Luke!

Suddenly he realized how he had done it - he played dead on the 6th floor, banking on them not communicating his body to the agents outside of the building. He got up, silently killed the agent in the very back of the group, stole his outfit, and joined the second group in their haste to reach the source of the gunfire. It was genius, he thought, something only Luke could pull off.

"I'll kill ya right now" he whispered, except Peter pulled out his pistol and shot him in his right arm. It had a silencer, and everyone was still frantically searching, so no one noticed the shot. But it didn't do much damage since Luke had a bulletproof vest on.

Luke began to call out, "how dare you try to shoot an officer of the la-"

A shot to the throat. What was he thinking? Of course, he was going to get killed if he wasted time like that. But, in exchange, he knew his life was over as the agents rushed to the sound of his call. What a final play, he thought to himself, taking me down with him. He may have completed his mission, but he would never be free again, and such was the price to pay for having Luke Sanchez as his target.