Post by Thanatos on Apr 19, 2004 20:31:09 GMT -5
The man laid back on his hard cot, countless beads of sweat dotting his slightly pudgy face. He couldn't do this to himself--he was a free man. Yes, there had been *rumors* that his old syndicate had hired the hitman, but no plausible evidence. And in the remote chance that the Syndicate had been that desperate--what were the chances that even the assassin was good enough to track him down? Every possible precaution had been taken...here he was, a crumbling concrete bunker in the heart of the bustling city, two armed guards outside--state-of-the-art security system newly installed. And yet...there were doubts.
The man rolled out of bed, and began to pace the small perimeter of his room. The hit-man was not *a* hit-man, he was the *only* hit-man. All others had long since been corrupted by the Mass, due to the very nature of their trade. Yet somehow, this one had remained untouched. These were all rumors, of course--but rumors from the must untrustworthy men of society, which naturally made the rumors some of the most dependable around. Yes, many said it was better to kill yourself than sit around and face him when you heard *the* hit-man was on your tail.
The man shook his head, grimacing in the dark. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Let yourself get scared by rumors, and you end up losing everything you've accomplished. He was so close to revealing the syndicate to the world, so close to administering the justice that the world had lost sight of...yes! He wasn't going to be intimidated by a few half-hearted rumors, he was going through with this!
The man was interrupted by a soft clearing of the throat from the other wall, about five feet away.
"Wh-who's there!?"
A voice spoke softly in response.
"You know who it is."
"Thanatos!?"
"The one and only. Choose your method."
"Of what? Is this some kind of sick joke!?"
"Of death. Five more seconds..."
The man stayed silent, rapidly opening and closing his eyes and pinching himself, trying to wish all of it away.
"Time's up."
The man gave up, yelling in the direction of the shadow.
"I have a family! You don't understand, this is justice, this is--!"
He was cut short as a long, graceful dagger flew into his throat. The man was dead in seconds.
The assassin detatched himself from the wall, idly picking up and cleaning his bloodied weapon before slipping it back into his large, flowing overcoat. Making no sound at all, he turned to leave, stopping in mid-stride as something seemed to catch his eye. He paused, swiftly turning back around and sitting leisurely down on the hard bed to read the nearby newspaper. The room was silent, save for the faint rustling of the pages as he quickly flipped through all of it, finding one particular ad that caught his eyes. He placed the paper back in the position it had lain, rising and in one fluid motion exiting from the bunker.
He walked out of the room housing the bed, down the corridor which held two very dead guards, past the still-activated security system, and out the door into the dark of night.
A few days later, the authorities would find the three bodies, but no investigation would be filed. It would be chalked up to "internal politics between criminal gangs", and nothing further would be said. As for the one that had committed the killings...by that time he would be far on his way towards the source of a very interesting ad...one offering large sums of money for a simple treasure hunt. Yet, books were not always to be judged by their covers...
The man rolled out of bed, and began to pace the small perimeter of his room. The hit-man was not *a* hit-man, he was the *only* hit-man. All others had long since been corrupted by the Mass, due to the very nature of their trade. Yet somehow, this one had remained untouched. These were all rumors, of course--but rumors from the must untrustworthy men of society, which naturally made the rumors some of the most dependable around. Yes, many said it was better to kill yourself than sit around and face him when you heard *the* hit-man was on your tail.
The man shook his head, grimacing in the dark. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Let yourself get scared by rumors, and you end up losing everything you've accomplished. He was so close to revealing the syndicate to the world, so close to administering the justice that the world had lost sight of...yes! He wasn't going to be intimidated by a few half-hearted rumors, he was going through with this!
The man was interrupted by a soft clearing of the throat from the other wall, about five feet away.
"Wh-who's there!?"
A voice spoke softly in response.
"You know who it is."
"Thanatos!?"
"The one and only. Choose your method."
"Of what? Is this some kind of sick joke!?"
"Of death. Five more seconds..."
The man stayed silent, rapidly opening and closing his eyes and pinching himself, trying to wish all of it away.
"Time's up."
The man gave up, yelling in the direction of the shadow.
"I have a family! You don't understand, this is justice, this is--!"
He was cut short as a long, graceful dagger flew into his throat. The man was dead in seconds.
The assassin detatched himself from the wall, idly picking up and cleaning his bloodied weapon before slipping it back into his large, flowing overcoat. Making no sound at all, he turned to leave, stopping in mid-stride as something seemed to catch his eye. He paused, swiftly turning back around and sitting leisurely down on the hard bed to read the nearby newspaper. The room was silent, save for the faint rustling of the pages as he quickly flipped through all of it, finding one particular ad that caught his eyes. He placed the paper back in the position it had lain, rising and in one fluid motion exiting from the bunker.
He walked out of the room housing the bed, down the corridor which held two very dead guards, past the still-activated security system, and out the door into the dark of night.
A few days later, the authorities would find the three bodies, but no investigation would be filed. It would be chalked up to "internal politics between criminal gangs", and nothing further would be said. As for the one that had committed the killings...by that time he would be far on his way towards the source of a very interesting ad...one offering large sums of money for a simple treasure hunt. Yet, books were not always to be judged by their covers...
