John sat at his table smiling. After all that last hit went quite well. He was really surprised with his execution. He let out a little chuckle and took a long drag of his cigarette. This next hit was going to be a little more of a challenge because he was going to do it in public.

Michael Williams was a prominent real estate salesman. He was very well known...however not always for the right reasons. You see he angered some people, a local gang to be exact. He owed these people money, a lot of it. This normally wouldn’t have been an issue except lately business had been slow. None of this mattered to John. He had a job and he was ready to do it; no sweating this time. He took the last sip of his scotch and left the house.

John had figured out Michael's schedule. He didn't live far from his office so Mike walked to work. This is where he would strike.

It was 9 O' Clock, and extremely dark. It was a cold quiet night as well with a slight breeze that would make you shiver right to the bone. John sat at a bus stop bench a little ways down the sidewalk from Michael's office. Michael finally exited his office.

"Must have been a long night, it’s about to get worse."

John was now standing by the street with the bench behind him. As Mike was in front of the bench, John turned around.

"Hello Michael."

He stopped. He started shaking for he knew that someone would come for him eventually.

"I see what this is. You’ve come to kill me right?"

Mike’s hand started inching closer to the inside of his jacket.

"You make me pull, I’ll put you down."

John smiled, he loved saying that. He then turned around and showed Mike his gun he had tucked into the back of his pants.

"You think you can get to that and shoot me before I reach into my coat?"

"Well Michael why don’t you find out?" 

There was a pause, both men staring at one another. Suddenly Mike went to go into his jacket for his pistol. John quickly drew his second pistol that was in his holster on his right hip hidden underneath his jacket. He shot Mike right in the chest. Michael slumped backwards onto the bus bench. John slowly walked up to him; his pistol had a suppressor so no one heard what just transpired. On his last breath, Michael said,  

"You didn’t tell me you had a second gun."

John whispered back,

"You never asked."

Mike’s eyes closed as the final bit of life was gone. John’s work was good. He closed the Mike’s jacket to cover the wound. It looked like he was sleeping on the bench. John walked away into the darkness smiling from the great work he had done.