[center][i]"When there is nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire." 
Douglas Campbell[/i]

>>>>>>>[/center]

Angela glared at the figure on the television screen until she memorized every inch of 'king' Bradley's too-pretty face. His teeth obviously had been whitened to the point of glaringly bright, his face doctored until he looked every bit the young king ready to take the throne. He was, according to records, forty-six. His blond hair was perfectly manicured in curls across his head, and he wore a suit that looked to be worth more than its weight in gold.

She hated him already. And that was before his speech that proclaimed he would be getting rid of the assassins that had basically run the country since Angela could remember, and he was starting here - in her city, New Providence. That had been a week ago.

Crowds had gathered for another of his speeches today, one where he would be answering questions on his radical new program and generally making himself look good in the public's opinion. He had also announced a 'surprise event,' which made the assassin even more nervous; it wouldn't be good. 

Angela couldn't decide yet whether he deserved to die today. Certainly, he should die, but it was only a matter of time. Although, there were bound to be dozens of other assassins after him, and she wouldn't let the others take all the glory. After all, she had a reputation to keep up.

Gun safely slung in a bag across her back, Angela turned off the television as she closed the door to her apartment. The session would start soon, but Bradley liked the sound of his own voice. It would be long before it was over.

She didn't mind being late to the party. Her destination was simple enough - the roof of an abandoned apartment building two blocks away from the central square. From there, she would have a clear view of the event through her scope. It was the best spot for an assassination like this, without a spot for a counter sniper if you were on the right side. The wind was finicky up high, but Angela didn't mind waiting for it to die down.

Throwing caution to the polluted breeze, Angela stepped onto the sidewalk and followed the flow of the crowd until she was where she needed to be. Angela slipped into an alleyway and climbed in through a broken window into the lobby. This place hadn't been used since - well, forever. A long time ago, it must've been beautiful. Arching windows lined the now boarded up entrance doors, reaching all the way up to the ridiculously high ceiling. The pillars lining the rotting carpet were crumbling but still enough to keep the building upright. People somewhere between dead and alive littered the floor in various stages of drug-induced peace.

Angela paid them no attention and made her way to the staircase, which was in surprisingly good condition. She climbed with ease until the top and came out on the roof, admiring the fact that spring was truly here. It was a gorgeous day, but storm clouds were in the distance. It would rain tonight. 

Without bothering to see if anyone else was here, Angela set up where she would be almost invisible to the other buildings. She had to sacrifice her view of the doorway, but Angela wasn't too keen on getting shot today. It was impossible to not run her fingers along the cool, smooth metal of the barrel before setting it on the ledge. Angela attached the scope with practiced ease, and laid down on the concrete, peering through it at the city below.

King Bradley looked even more disgusting in real life than on camera. Usually, whenever she was on an assignment, her anger dissipated - but she simply hated the king too much. Her fingers itched to pull the trigger, but she would have to wait until he started his grand speech. She had made good time on the way here and still had a few minutes left to go. His makeup artists were applying last-minute touch-ups on the spot. It was certainly a funny sight, but Angela was too angry to feel anything remotely happy with the king in her sights.

Angela's impatient wait was rewarded when the event started, first with the sound of trumpets and a deafening noise by the huge crowd that had gathered for the event. From what Angela could see, most of them were commoners, hoping for a life where they wouldn't have to constantly fear their own assassination. They crowded the square and spilled out onto the streets - there had to be thousands of people here. It angered Angela even more that they all appeared to be genuinely happy; didn't they realize that this politician was just like the rest?

She flinched for a moment when the address began. He was loud, even from this far away; she couldn't imagine what it must be like down below, right next to the speakers. She didn't see anybody complaining, but that would make sense with the number of security guards down below.

"Friends, family, people of this country... Today is the dawn of a new world. Today, we will be freed from oppression!"

Deafening cheers from the entire crowd. Angela fought the urge to gag when he put his hand up, and the silence fell just as quickly. The people below were more like sheep than humans.

"Today, we will start with the persecution of one of the assassins who has kept us in fear for so long; he has killed over one hundred people, all in the name of terror. Today, this man, Hugo Simmons, will die."

Stunned silence from most of the crowd, but they roared when a man was brought up onto the stage; Angela grimaced when she realized she recognized him. The fact that he had been captured already wasn't surprising considering his total lack of discretion; he might as well have shouted "I'm an assassin" to the world. He was tall, with graying black hair and a face that looked odd without an easy smile. He looked as beaten as the dogs that wandered the streets; Angela was almost tempted to shoot him out of mercy, but she only had enough time for one good shot before she had to be up and running. 

Seeing the arrival of an old friend in chains made her angrier than ever; the only thing keeping her from pulling the trigger was the sudden gusts of wind from all directions. She'd have to wait for the right moment to kill the man this country called king.