Reciprocity

Kill the man--save the country. It takes sweating hands and a palsied conscience, but I can do it. Quick breaths, short breaths, tight grip on a Smith & Wesson that feels cold and clammy against my palm.

Bureaucracy and corruption had ruined this nation, fettering away at useless topics that accomplished nothing and killed the common man. I am the people's savior, and I will deliver them from the jaws of this government. They are sheep, but only a few of them know it and fight it. I am their champion.

His limousine--black glossy snake, mouth wide--curves around the corner now. I have sudden qualms flickering at the back of my brain, but no--this man has destroyed the country and I will save it. Quick steps now, up through the crowd, gun under sleeve. They push and cheer, blind and deaf. It saddens me, but spurs me. I am forcing myself down to a quick walk--fast enough to reach the car in time, with him emerging from the sunroof, smiling, waving, false. Two steps more.

His eyes widen as the two barrels empty themselves into his body. Immediately I feel the shriek of bullets tearing into my skin, but I smile, for my work is done. I am a martyr now. I am their hero...

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Commentary: I was just perusin' the interwebs and "I Just Shot John Lennon" by The Cranberries came on iTunes. This isn't that specific event, of course, but it's obviously on the subject and what goes through the assassin's brain.