Page 84 - Musings 2022

portentous gripping thought. In a way, he felt excited as he hadn’t been involved in a proper

shooting spree for almost a year. Brushing aside his weird mixture of thoughts, he began to
enjoy the architectural marvel of the building. Chandeliers with diamonds at the centre

reflected natural light to illuminate entire rooms. Rooms were also adorned with exquisite
paintings like The Last Supper and Whistler’s Mother. Antique priceless artefacts too were on

display. For a moment there, John thought if he had set foot in some kind of a museum. Such

had been the beauty of that place. As he trod on, something stupendous caught his attention; A
separate room filled with weapons, an arsenal of some kind. Reminiscing the day he had held

a gun for the first time in his life, he gazed at the artillery in awe. Moving on, he entered the
security room to meet with his comrades who were supposed to aid him in the protection. They

handed over a shotgun and two rifles. Carrying four guns with him, including the one he had

already had, he marched on to meet with the ambassador. “Good morning sir, pleasure to meet
you”, said Mr. John. “Likewise”, replied the ambassador.

Mr. Abramovich was a man of many talents. A National level tennis player and an exceptional
swimmer, he had topped his class at University and had chosen a rather intriguing career path

compared to his standards. One could easily deduce that he had been leading a stressful life by

taking one good look at the man and the medications he carried around. “John”, he called out,
“I hope you are ready. I’d be really pissed if I end up dying today”, he said with a smirk. “YES

sir, no one will dare to lay so much as a finger on you, Sir”, said John with an air of confidence

about him. For obvious reasons, he didn’t dare to share the ominous thoughts that had been
haunting him lately. Accompanied by three guards he escorted the ambassador from the

embassy to a conference hall on the other side of Paris. The car ride turned out to be smoother
than they anticipated with no hiccups whatsoever. Everyone had a sense of composure which

soon turned into complacency. After safely escorting Mr. Abramovich to the conference hall,
they waited outside, armed and ready to deal with any mishaps. There were 3 layers of security;

the first one comprising the police force which had surrounded the entire building, the second

layer constituted specially trained guerillas strategically placed at various points inside the
building and the third layer composed of Mr. Spectre and his three henchmen, all specially

trained.

There had been a trick up John’s sleeve that he used to utilise under dire circumstances. He
could curve bullets. Deemed physically impossible to pull off, only a few people in the entire

world knew about John’s secret weapon. He was of the belief that this skill for some reason
could only be passed on via blood. The thought of this generational skill ending with him really

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