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She was running at night. She came to this realization suddenly. She could hear her own hard breathing as she ran, felt her heart pounding in her chest. She was wearing shoes it was easy to run in. The woman running ahead of her was not. She wore low heels, pumps. She was chasing this other woman, apparently.

The woman in front of her kept looking back in fear. She was Indian, had her long black hair up in a neat bun. She wore a dark suit with a skirt. It also looked hard to run in. They ran along a residential sidewalk, with a row of bushes to the left and a quiet street to the right. They ran under a streetlight, then back into semi-darkness. She could hear other feet running too, ahead of the woman. It was a man with dark hair in a suit. Both of the people she chased carried briefcases.

She wasn't in control of her own body as she chased these people. She was just aware of herself doing it.

The Indian woman, losing ground, screamed with a mortal fear to the man in front of her, "Charles!" Almost a screech.

Charles slowed slightly and grabbed the woman's hand and tried to pull her along faster.

But just then she felt her own arm rise and saw a gun in it. Silver, with a silver tube attached to the end of it. A silencer. With sickening quickness the gun was fired by her own hand and the bullet hit the woman in the back. The suited woman immediately tripped and fell and lay still, a pool of blood starting to form around her on the sidewalk. The assassin had stopped running. So had the man. He turned to gasp and stare in horror down at the fallen woman. His eyes were full of fear as he looked back up into the assassin's eyes.

She raised her gun again as they stood there. He didn't dare run. He put his hands up, perhaps hoping that by cooperating he would avoid his friend's fate.

She felt her hand point the gun at the man's chest, felt it start to pull the trigger. But anger welled up in her chest. Inside her head she screamed, ‘No!’ Her finger froze on the trigger. But some other force inside her struggled for control and wrestled the power away from her and managed to pull the trigger anyway. But in a sloppy way. The hand struggling with itself caused the gun to shift and the man was shot in the shoulder, perhaps only grazed.

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