For the Ninjas.
Assassin
I hunched down over the rifle and took aim. From the top of the grandstand, there was a perfect view of the field, and good enough cover that nobody would know where the shot came from.
I took one final sweeping look around the park. It was a sunny winters day. There was a brisk chill in the air, but it was pleasant enough. Narrowing my field of view, I centred on the lanky outside back. Standing on the wing, he was a fair distance from the ball. Moving up and back each play in anticipation, he wasnt going to be a difficult target.
Grasping the rifle in my hands, I pulled it close and lined the player up in the aim. I slowly pulled the trigger tight, and the shot echoed around the field.
Pulling the gun down, I could immediately see the shot had hit its mark. The player had collapsed into the turf, and his limp body had blood running from the back of his head, slowly changing the surrounding grass from green to red.
I sunk back out of view of the field, and got ready to stand up. As I did, I noticed a small piece of barbed wire had become caught up against my shoe. Expecting it to pull off easily enough, I got to my feet. Hunched over, I pushed my shoe off, but the barbed wire was much more strongly attached than I thought. I fell over, making a loud clunking sound as the rifle hit the corrugated iron roof.
I went to get up again, in the rush coming into full view of the field. Despite the chaos, the spectators had heard the noise, and I could see them pointing at me as I made my escape.
I headed for the steps down the back of the stand, but could see a crowd assembling at the bottom. Maybe this wasnt going to be as clean a getaway as I had hoped. I could sense this starting to become an incident as well, which is the last thing I needed.
Rushing down the stairs, I reached the second to last turn in the flight and leapt over the rail, over a fence, into the carpark. As I flew through the air, my ankle caught the fence. My body flipped and I lost all control of my momentum. Head first I tumbled towards the ground, hearing a large thud as my forehead cracked into the concrete. I tried to pull myself up, but an initial sense of dizziness only got stronger, and I slumped down as darkness enveloped me.
***
I came too sitting in a chair. I groggily looked around. There were no windows, a small table directly in front of me, and a lone lightbulb hanging grimly from the ceiling. The walls were concrete, painted white, no doubt to cover up decades of graffiti.
I waited there for several minutes, maybe half an hour, until the door finally opened. In walked a gruff looking man. Tall, with a distinguished, worn looking face. He could barely disguise the look of disgust on his face as he glanced towards me.
Whats your name. he barked, bluntly. It was more of a demand, than a question.
I couldnt answer, of course. Knowing a false answer would probably only heighten his anger, I kept quiet.
I see, so its going to be like that. he replied. That guy you shot in the head? Hes dead. So youre looking at a long time before bars. Youre only going to make that even longer, if you dont start talking. So Ill repeat, whats your name?
Again, I remained silent.
He continued, unfazed. What possible reason could you have for shooting a guy in the middle of a game of rugby league. A guy with a mum, a dad. Plenty of friends ... a young guy making a real go of his life. Why did you want to end all that?
I stared back at him, blankly.
Something seemed to snap at him, and he came at me. He grabbed me by the shoulder, his forearm pressing against my neck.
What sort of scum are you that you wont even explain why you did it!? he yelled. His face was reddening by the second.
Barely able to breath, I wheezed out You wouldnt believe me if I told you.
WHY?! he roared.
Gasping for air, I struggled to say: Because ... Ive come ... from the future ... to kill ... John Ribot.
750 words