Drought

Drought is a work in progress. For ideas please comment.

Tissot pulled up to the house in his 1962 Corvette and made sure his MP5 Heckler and Koch was firmly strapped by his side, concealed by his large black trench coat. It was not particularly cold, definitely not cold enough to wear a large warm coat such as he was wearing. He walked silently past the crowd of people waiting outside the desolate house. His mission was simple, go in the house, kill the target and walk out without making a commotion. He had done this a thousand times, but this one seemed different.

He slowly walked up to the porch and leaned gently on the front door. He looked around to make sure no-one was watching and inserted the key into the keyhole. The door slid open smoothly as though it had recently been oiled. Tissot called out to see if anyone was home but no response returned except for the echo of his own voice. The hallway was dark and empty and the sound of his footsteps reverberating off the wooden floors. Tissot turned to look at a picture placed on the wall of a man holding a gun at his side. He remarked at its likeness to him, and its pastel look, in fact it looked too much like him.

He swung around just in-time to see a body launch itself towards him and wrestle him to the ground. The figure threw a left hook at him and hit him square in the nose causing him to drop his gun. The figure lunged over to reach the fallen gun and in the same movement kicked Tissot in the chin. The figure told Tissot to rise slowly and not make a sound, he did as he was told. The figure, who Tissot now recognised as Trevor, his target, led Tissot into the kitchen where he tied Tissot's hands to the fridge door and quickly left.

Tissot sat in silence until he heard his 1962 Corvette roar off in the distance. He swore under his breath. He always hated it when someone bettered him and he knew that this time he was far too sloppy. He knew this was an amateur mistake and could only reconcile it by catching this man who escaped from him. It took him less than five minutes to remove the tightly wound bonds. He picked up a knife on the way out and walked slowly to the door. Already thoughts were racing through his mind. What was his plan? Simple. Track his Corvette. It had been a fairly recent rule, only implemented about a month ago that all cars have tracking device, in case it went missing. He went to grab his phone and realised his second mistake, he left the phone in the car. Now there was no way to track his Corvette and he had to do the only thing he could, catch a bus.

He had no idea where to go let alone what to do so he went to the only place that made sense the library. They had computers there and with some time and patience, he could hack into his phone and find his car. He tried for hours to no avail and still his car remained unfound. But his luck only turned worse when he walked past an officer who recognised him and took him in.