Just an ordinary job

Reaper - prologue

Charlton City

"Can I bring you something?"
The pretty, red-haired waitress looks at him expectantly with her fake smile, notepad and pen already at the ready.
"Thanks, I'd rather pay."
The artificial smile widens even more as she slips the paper and pen into the pocket of her apron and instead pulls out an unwieldy black leather wallet.
"... um, okay, that would be 3.80."
He hands her a fiver and gives her the rest as a tip, whereupon her grin seems more natural for at least a moment, until she finally disappears to the next table and her show begins again. He actually hates hanging around in some cafés in the old town at this time, and not just because of the same affectation of the wait staff. Unfortunately, his job often forced him to mingle with "normal" people, whether he liked it or not. The street in front of him is very busy, while people stroll through the various shops, look at shop windows, or just sit on one of the benches and enjoy the sun. Annoyed, he gets up and meanders through the crowd in the direction of the market square. All the civilians will make his job much more difficult again. Sighing, he looks at the big clock on the town hall.
Two more minutes.
He leans against the wall of a closed pub and waits. His right hand clasps the little golden zippo in the pocket of his black jacket. Three children run past him with ice cream cones.
He counts down from 10 in his mind.
... 5 ... 4 ... 3 ...
When he arrives at 1, a woman's scream echoes across the square and an older man collapses, moaning, holding his left upper arm cramped with one hand. When he stays on the floor, twitching, a little panic breaks out among the passers-by.
Even if he has observed this scenario incredibly often, he has to smile again at the herd behavior of the people.If there is only one person in the group who cannot tell the difference between a heart attack and a terrorist attack, panic spreads like wildfire. He pushes himself off the wall and walks towards the crowd that has gathered around the man. Most of them are the ordinary gawkers who put on horrified facial expressions, but inwardly hope that at least a little blood will be seen. Some scream for a doctor, but obviously don't get the idea of ​​getting their cell phone out and calling an ambulance ... It would be pointless anyway, the man is now dead ... he can say that with certainty, even though he has him Can't even see from this distance. But that's why he's here after all. He takes the small lighter out of his pocket, snaps open the flap and throws it into the air over the heads of the shocked passers-by, where, contrary to all physical laws, it simply gets stuck. When he gets to them, he has already drawn his completely black pistol.
He released the safety catch and aimed it at the motionless body of the old man lying on the ground ...

The shot startles a small flock of pigeons nearby, which finally pass the blue sky with flowing flaps of their wings and then disappear.