he wicked woman sat at her desk preening herself. William knew the definition of the term and he despised the woman for it. The term, preening, pertained to personal grooming (also called titivating and preening) is the art of cleaning, grooming, and maintaining parts of the body. It is a species-typical behavior.
William watched her from his perch on top of the air conditioning unit of the burned out house next door. She had been selected to be 'dealt with,' and had been one of the most wicked and capricious, scandal ridden, fraud packed persons of California. She demanded a bigger plane on which to travel back and forth across the nation to her mansion, because she did not like to stop and endure the time it took to land, fill up, and take off again. It just took too much of her precious time.
Never mind what it was costing in extra taxpayers dollars. Never mind that many of the people whose taxes she was spending was barely keeping themselves afloat, unable to afford even moderate health care, transportation, housing, or even food and utilities. She HAD to have a much bigger plane!
She minced away millions of dollars, and she was the indirect cause of many lives being lost, many homes being repossessed by the banks. It was one of her deepest desires to remove the guns from gun owners for "their own protection." Hers was the statement that infuriated hundreds of thousands of hardworking Americans, the statement that helped shove the "Affordable Health care Act of America" or "Obamacare" down the throats of the America constituency.
"We have to pass it to see what's in it." Was that classic stupid rhetoric typical of the Democrats of this day or what? And, that level of stupidty and arrogance fit that woman who sat in front of her mirror as William readied his weapon to dispatch her. Who would make a statement like that? Who could be so stupid as to make a statement like that - or even verbalize it in jeapordy of showing that stupidity! Then, on the other hand, who would be so stupid as to fall for that?
Obamacare consisted of thousands of pages of useless drivel and regulations which would tighten the rein on the freedoms Americans enjoyed. It paved the way for dhimmitude to be forced upon the American people even going so far as to mention that word in its content. Most Americans had never even heard the term, much less knew what it was or less than that, the extent of its horrors.
With the influx of thousands and thousands of Muslims and their influence on many cities, huge companies were forced to embrace Sharia law, and Nancy Pelosi was helping to pave the way for the complete takeover of America without firing a single shot.
She helped in the forcing of the HSR, (High Speed Rail), down the throat of Californians, seeing billions of taxpayer dollars disappear down the huge sinkhole before it ever got off the ground, her brother in law reaping many millions with his 'Consulting Firm . . .'
But, her influence was to be no more, and William had drawn lots to be the one to put her out of Americas' misery. He had no rifle with him, only his pistol. But that would be so very loud, and a reckless shot to attempt even though he was only about sixty feet from her. No, he only had one chance.
He had trained incessantly with the weapon of choice, and with the help of Sung Wu, had become a marksman with it at distances of up to two hundred feet. But poison tipped darts didn't even have to be a direct hit. All it needed to do its job was a mere scratch. William took aim, and blew into the tube. The old witch suddenly screamed and stiffened at the pain of the flechette, and jumped up running to the window and shutting it.
Stupid woman. She thought some insect had stung her. Well, she would not live to see morning. William loaded the tube again and slung it down by his side. He was always on the ready because one never knew what circumstance would bring ones way. He mounted his little battery motor scooter and pointed it noiselessly away from the scene of the assassination.
The trip from Texas to California on the train had been a long perilous journey. Many times he was accosted by thug and police alike, and each time, he had the correct papers or weapon to deliver him out of the hand of the enemy.
A day or so after the dispatching of Pelosi found him in the middle of the Mojave desert headed east on the train that would take him to his destination in Texas. Train travel was quite slow in this day and age, but was still fast considering the alternative of walking. It was now the preferred method of travel since fuel was so rare.
Finally, he heard the news he was wanting to hear. He had a little pocket radio with him listening to the Guerilla Underground Network when a flash came across stating that a city wide man hunt was on the way for the killer of one Nancy Pelosi. She had been assassinated two nights ago.
What he heard next put a chill up his spine. He listened closely as the faint voice was fading with distance. "An underground ring of assassins is thought to be working in the Texas area. It was thought to be one of several in the area that struck high ups in the government and would surely one day make a strike at the president.
It faded out completely then, and he began to search for another station with possibly some more news. He should be home early day after tomorrow.
He secured the door to the berth as well as possible and leaned back for some shut eye. He was extremely tired and he hated to be alone as one could easily be taken when asleep. Many a man had went to sleep only to be startled awake by some life taking incident which by now, had rendered him defenseless.
Finally, William slept. He had managed to pull the curtains around and make it almost pitch black. He drew his 45 and held it in his hand down by his side, shielded from view. Inside the train it would wake everyone if fired. So, he screwed on his silencer. It would save his life.
From somewhere in his deep sleep, he felt the presence of a person sitting across from him. He forced himself to remain still with his eyes closed as if asleep to allow a more detailed study of his situation. Someone was sitting in the seat directly across from him.
Had it been him in that position in front of a sleeping mark, the man simply would not have ever awakened. As it were, he was fortunate enough to have drawn a braggart to do him in, and the man had to do a little bit of ego petting before he offed the old man sleeping and helpless in front of him.
Breaching the door on the berth was as simple as sliding an old credit card under the bolt and lift it out of the hole into which it was plunged. Simple, quick, and noiseless. He made more noise getting in the door and sitting down than getting past the lock.
The young man had sat quietly observing him for several minutes, all the while William was feigning sleep. Although he could not see who was sitting there, the man did exude an ominous presence. William heard the pistol when he laid it on the seat and before the man could blink, had his big 45 aimed at the mans forehead.
He flipped the light switch on at the foot of the bed with his toe, and the man was stunned. William said quietly, "you can either get off the train now or have them carry you off later. You name it."
Instantly the man lunged and grabbed for the 45. William snapped it back and then down hard on the mans head, the pistol striking him right above the right ear, nearly ripping his ear off his head. Blood flowed freely, and the man was out cold. He searched for his identification and soon realized he was in extreme danger. He himself would be getting off instead. Now!
The man he had just cold-cocked was a private investigator out of Sacramento, CA. He was on the trail of the killer of Nancy Pelosi. And, he'd followed him all the way down California and now into Arizona just to lose him again. William knew the detective was trouble and he had to make sure the man would never come after him again.
With that, he snapped his neck, wrestled him onto the bed where he had only moments before lay sleeping. William stripped his guns and ammo, a nice switchblade and a Rolex watch. With that he got up and stood by the door of the berth to hear if anyone was in the hallway. Satisfied it was vacant, he stepped lightly into the hall. Within two minutes, William was tumbling along the railroad tracks. He was bruised and bleeding, but he was alive.
Having no idea as to where he was, he stood up and started walking in the direction of the quickly disappearing train. If he wasn't seeing things, up ahead was a hill and a curve in the tracks, and it was conducive to his jumping aboard the freight train headed in his direction. He had lost his radio, but had kept his weapons.
It was starting to get pretty cold out there. William was able to see an indention in the rock and decided it was time for a real rest. Within a few minutes, he was warming himself to a fire, building a fire block and a shade with which to hide behind. There was ample brush, or most from these parts called tumble weeds lodged there. After a little snack he leaned back against the rock-face warmed by the fire, and slept.
He was awakened a couple of times by the rumble of a train as it passed his hidey hole. After a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep, he found a place above the train from which he could jump. With a little luck he should be able land on the top of the car and stay there. The curve and the incline he'd seen slowed the train enough to make the hazardous jump. He soon found a boxcar with the door partially open. He climbed down and swung into the car landing almost on top of someone lying there near the door.
A woman's voice, irritated by the rude awakening said "Mister, I hope you don't mind getting shot, cuz I sure won't mind shooting you. You back up over there and if you get up, I'll let you have it. Do you understand?"
William mustered a humble apology and a "yes ma'am." He simply backed up against the wall, and went to sleep thankful for the protection of the woman. She was doing him a favor by watching him so he took advantage of it. Within a few hours, he would be home, such as it was.
The thought brought to him for the first time in a couple of days, the cloud which contained the mystery owner of his current abode. He was about to learn the identity of the owner of the underground Patriot bunker complex.
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