He was a lawyer, a gray-feathered avian in his mid-thirties. The ring on his left hand indicated a spouse, but I had no way of knowing if he had children or not. I suppose it would be less tragic if he didn't, but that didn't really concern me. What did concern me was that someone with a lot of cash wanted him dead. It was my job to kill him.
My client didn't provide any real reason as to why he wanted the man dead, but I could hear the hatred in his voice. All I knew was that my client wanted him dead tonight. He got his wish.
The target was, to my luck, asleep when I found him in his hotel room. I walked quietly to the bed and pulled a knife out of my tuxedo. I turned it on, smiling as I recognized the faint green hue of plasma rise from the holster.
Some professionals prefer traditional metal blades to plasma-constructed blades. I've never been very skilled with traditional knives; in my opinion, it is much easier to use a plasma knife as it removes the factors of pressure and resistance. A plasma knife can cut through almost anything with ease- the same cannot be said about a metal knife.
I looked down for a final time at what would become my victim. I stood there for some time in the darkness, contemplating what, if anything, significant would result of this man's death. It was silent with the exception of my breathing and the heavy storm outside.
I finished thinking and, carefully plotting the spot, slashed the man's throat. He didn't scream, because he couldn't. When you want to be quiet about killing someone, you have to find some way to stop them from making noise. Asphyxiation is a good try as the cuttoff of oxygen will naturally inhibit their speech. Another way is to sever the larynx, which is what I did.
The avian had only been concious for a few seconds before he went completely still. He wouldn't be waking up.
A few minutes later, after I knew he was dead, I searched his pockets and found a wallet. Opening the leather bifold, I found an I.D. and 3,250 Lylatian Federal Currency. The L.F.C. would be kept, and the I.D. destroyed. With any luck, the lack of identification will prolong the inevitable police investigation, and the ransacked wallet will make the crime out to be a mugging instead of a professional
assassination.
Finally satisfied with my work, I left the hotel. The storm outside had not changed in intensity, and I felt myself barraged by rain and hail as I made the journey to my car. As I took one last look around the near-vacant parking lot, I climbed into my car, shut the door, and drove away.
