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Seminar hour with Mia - The wire loop
Today: The wire loop - How do I use it efficiently? The room was steeped in an atmosphere reminiscent of a cathedral, not in peace, but in a strained, reverent silence. Every breath, every faint shuffle seemed to echo off the walls, amplifying the tension that hung in the air like a shroud. At the center of it all stood the victim; young, trembling, and defiant in her stillness. Her wide eyes betrayed a swirling storm of emotions: fear, morbid curiosity, and perhaps a twisted sense of pride at being chosen for this grim demonstration. Her hands hung limp by her sides, her breaths shallow and rapid. Sweat glistened on her forehead, catching the dim light, while her knees quivered with the strain of standing so still. In my hands, the wire noose appeared deceptively delicate, an unassuming tool with deadly precision. The glint of its hardened steel caught the light, drawing the fixated stares of the students encircling us. They stood close, their faces shadowed by a dark curiosity
LiteratureExcerpt from the diary of a contract killer #3
Mia's new assignment takes her to a quiet suburb where the air smells of fresh grass and autumn leaves. Her target is a young woman who is working in her garden. The garden is surrounded by a high wooden fence, which provides perfect conditions for Mia. There are no prying eyes from neighbors, and the wind carries the sounds of the leaves away. The woman is kneeling on the lawn, planting flowers. She seems relaxed, engrossed in her work, completely unaware that her death is only moments away. Mia sneaks down a small side alley, jumps over the low part of the fence, and moves quietly through the garden. The afternoon sun casts long shadows, the leaves rustle softly, and the idyll of the garden belies what is about to happen. This time Mia has chosen a cable tie - a tool that brings her into even more direct contact with her victim. She reaches into her jacket pocket, feels the hard plastic of the cable tie between her fingers, and fixes her eyes on her target. With her signature plushLiteratureExcerpt from the diary of a contract killer #4
I stood in the shade of the trees, just a few meters away, my gun firmly in my hand. The target was relaxed on a sun lounger, a towel wrapped loosely around her body. The garden was quiet, a perfect idyll that would soon be shattered. The woman knew I was coming - she had hired me herself. But she didn't know when. That was exactly what she wanted: death should surprise her. I took a deep breath, the smell of fresh grass and damp earth filled my nose. My finger rested on the trigger. I took a step closer, so quietly that only the gentle rustling of the leaves accompanied my path. She didn't notice me until I was right in front of her. Her eyes slowly opened. There was no panic in her gaze, but rather surprise, followed by a strange kind of acceptance. She knew it was over. I raised the gun, aimed at her right shoulder, without saying a word. The first shot broke the silence with a sharp bang. The bullet hit her shoulder and her body jerked violently. A stifled scream escaped her lipsLiteratureExcerpt from the diary of a contract killer #5
It is a cold, moonless night. The parking lot is silent, the street lamps casting dim, yellowish circles on the damp asphalt. A touch of wind stirs the loose paper that blows across the ground, but otherwise the world is frozen. There, in the middle of this silence, is Marie's small, blue compact car. Her pink hair glows in the shadows, a stark contrast to the darkness around her. She suspects nothing as she frantically searches for her car keys in her pocket. My steps are quiet, almost silent, as I approach her. I have already attached the silencer to the gun. The task is clear, and the world around me blurs into a simple mission. She doesn't notice that I am behind her until I am only a few steps away. "Marie," I say in a calm, composed voice. She flinches, turns around abruptly, and her face shows a mixture of shock and fear. "Who... who are you?" she stammers, her eyes wide, almost empty with panic. I say nothing. Words are not necessary. I pull the gun out of my jacket, slowly
LiteratureThe murder of Denise
Denise stood in the center of her pastel-colored room, her glasses firmly set on her nose as her gaze drifted peacefully over the soft colors and gentle details that surrounded her. On the wall, two large LED stars glowed, casting a warm, comforting light—a safe haven, meant to keep all of Mia’s darkness far away. But suddenly, a muffled gunshot shattered the silence. A searing pain spread through her chest as the first bullet struck, and her body jolted. Her eyes widened behind her clear glasses, and her hand instinctively clutched where the warm blood was already staining her shirt. Confused and disoriented, she looked up, but the second shot followed immediately. Another brutal impact, sending her stumbling back, and the shock in her gaze twisted into raw panic. A third shot pierced her chest, driving her back further, until her legs finally gave way. Slowly, as if in a trance, she collapsed onto the bed, landing heavily on the blue-and-white checkered bedspread beneath her. The 
