It finds the gate and unlatches it, stepping inside.
The target’s yard is untidy, strewn with rusted tools. The made man pushes a lawnmower to one side, selecting a pair of long-handled shears. They’re stiff but adequate for what he wants: he’ll only need to use them once.
A ribbon curtain is covering the doorway, and the house is quiet.
The made man enters slowly, his weapon in his hands.