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The man approached the door slowly, quietly, carefully. It was imperitive that he wasn't heard. He was in his early thirties,
with over the top spiked blonde hair. There was at least a tub of gel in there. His name- or codename, at least, was Iraq.

It was nearly time for quite possibly the most important business transaction of his life. Sweat beads trickled down his
anxious brow. He breathed deeply, staring at the plain door, preparing to get his job done. He made to open the door, but hesitated.
If he failed...

Swallowing his fears, Iraq smoothly slid the door open. There at a desk, in the small dimly lit room was a man with his back turned.
This man was the president of the United States, who was engrossed in his work and didn't notice the tall Irish man behind him
Iraq pulled his gun out of it's holster, took aim at the President, and shot. The president gave a small cry, as his head
crashed down on the desk. Iraq himself, relieved, slumped to the ground, panting.

He had done it. He had finished the job. Now he would be able to pay for his family, they would be able to have a decent life.
He could afford to send his daughter to a good University.

He didn't hear the heavy footsteps approaching from outside the box-like room.

Part three of the 'old and crappy things written by emkay' series.

Part 1
Part 2
Forum topic of doom
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

Author: emkay
This page was uploaded on 01/03/07

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