I'm finally back! Woo hoo!
After several crazy months, I now have time to write a new story, and here's part one! Enjoy!
Rivals Part One
Rated: PG
His target was perfectly aligned with his rifle scope. She was prettier than he expected, with a wholesome, innocent appearance—at least as innocent as one could look stealing well-guarded government secrets. She reminded him of his sister, of the only thing pure in his life, the only part of it he felt was worth protecting and preserving. If he had any weaknesses in his otherwise imperturbable, almost cold demeanor, it was for women, especially women who in his mind were fragile and needed sheltering from the harsh realities of the world, a world he had so often been exposed to, a world he lived in where it did not matter whom he killed or for what reason as long as his flawless reputation remained intact and his contract was fulfilled, allowing him financial stability and the chance to once again recede into obscurity, blending in with the whole of despicable humanity, travelling the world in search for that next hit, his desire and appetite for killing insatiable.
He watched her through the magnified view of his scope for awhile, hesitating. She was too beautiful to kill, yet he had a duty to perform. Still, he could not imagine ending such a vibrant, youthful life, disfiguring her body with a bullet. It seemed unnatural, almost…sinful.
Come on, focus! His inner voice hissed.
You have a hit to do, so do it! Still, he continued to waver, mesmerized by her beauty. He became aware of the power he had, his ability to snuff out life with one squeeze of the trigger. Usually such power thrilled and excited him, made him feel omnipotent, but now it only made him feel conflicted and confused. He had abdicated his power to his target, something a professional killer should never allow to happen. Once it did, all was lost. A part of him was almost in love with her, even though he had never met her except through the profile provided for him. She laughed at something, her golden hair highlighted by the sun, strands of it stirring in the breeze. It looked so soft. He wanted to touch it, to caress it, to possess her…but she had to die. If she did, he wanted to wait until she stopped laughing. He wanted to allow her at least that one final moment of contentment before ending it all.
As he moved his line of sight toward the source of her laughter out of curiosity, he saw a man. His back was turned, but he could tell by the man’s tall height, athletic build, and sandy blond hair that it was MacGyver. In mere moments his feelings of love turned to hatred and disgust, a seething rage consuming him. It took considerable effort for him not to pull the trigger, his rifle now aimed at the back of his head. It would have been so easy, after so many failures…yet he clenched his teeth and resisted the temptation. Now that he had more information, his strategy would have to change. The lovely young lady would still have to die, but she had been given a reprieve. Having MacGyver and most likely The Phoenix Foundation involved complicated things, but he loved a challenge, even when that challenge had often proved as frustrating as MacGyver. Carefully, he began formulating a new plan in his mind, one that would unravel slowly, gradually, and methodically. He knew if he waited, if he allowed things to work their course according to this plan, that his patience would soon enough be rewarded.
To be continued…
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer."
--Henry David Thoreau
brains+brawn+beauty+personality=MacGyver
The master returns 
