New Series! As far as begginings go, this one isnt to bad. Hopefully it will grab you. I try to update when I can, right now I'm working on another story, The Spread. Be sure to read it ^_^

And without further adu, here you go! Enjoy!

Chapter 1: A Killer's Hobbies

Flint sat in the metal chair as he wiped the blood of his spiked gloves. His parter stood next to him, sending a photo of the dead crime-lord's corpse to the client to confirm a job well done. These guys are anything BUT your average hitmen. They are assassins, a perfect mix of stealth and lethality. Ten thug corpses surround the two assassins, all of which were either slashed across the neck or shot in the head. These two were the definition of effective. The female assassin's phone beeped an annoying tune, notifying that she had an incoming message. She flipped it open to read; Good job, you two. $21,000 dollars has just been transferred into your bank account. Our business is done. Tell Flint I told him he did a good thing.

Rosevell flipped the phone closed, with a loud Click. She turned towards Flint, who was snapping in a fresh 9mm pistol clip from his black coated tactical vest. "The client told me to tell you that you did a good thing." Rosevell said; unloading an empty clip from her Berreta 50. Cal Sniper, and slapping in a new one. The empty magizine dropped to the floor quicker then then the corpses did.

"Since when is killing ever a good thing?" Flint said, his voice colder than ice.

"It's good when the guy we've killed has been in the weapons trafficking business for years. Think about all of the peace we have just made in the middle east!"

Flint sighed, "I know, I know. But think about it, Rosevell. If it werent for assassins like us, my brother would still be alive." Flint put his hand on his forehead, forcing his bad memories to fade out. Five years ago, when flint was only 16, Flint's brother, Matrixx, was killed by assassins for taking out a large loan from an extremly notorius crime lord. Matrixx was the only one who Flint could trust. Once Matrixx had deceased, things began to fall apart. The house went into fore-closure. Flint began to drift away from his friends. And worst of all, the horrific event had left an enormous hole in Flints heart. They loved each other, in a brotherly sort of fashioin. The only thing Flint had left to remind of his brother was his Pistol, an M9 that Matrixx bought with the loan. Your so fucking stupid... Flint thought, how could you leave me like that? How? Rosevell took a seat next to Flint and embraced him, in hopes that he would calm down. Flint had told her time and time again of his sad tale.

"It's okay..." Rosevell whispered into his ear.

"I honestly don't have an opinion about killing, Rosevell..." Flint began, trying to cover up his emotions, "It's just that the client only hired us to ensure that his competitors can no longer sell weapons, thus making his personal market income increase, which in no way is helping to decrease the weapon sales on the black market..." Rosevell just looked at him, wondering what has gotten into him. Flint turned his back towards Rosevell, hiding his emotions... he said the magic three words that had alwayed ended the conflict...

"It's just business..."

It had been two hours since the evil deed had been done. On the ride home from the targets location, Rosevell had activated her PDA and scrolled down her and Flint's secure bank account. According to thier account, they currently had $69,000 dollars. About $10,000 dollars had been added on recently. While it damaged your moral standings, being an assassin had its perks. No struggling through the tough economic times, no robbing banks to pay the bills, and most importantly, no worries about having your enemies coming back for you and harming your loved ones. As far as all of the magor crime lords believe, assassins are just the middle men. They are the effect of a cause. You cannot terminate an effect as you would a cause. These were the simply rules of the assassin games Flint and Rosevell play so often.

The duo of killers had arrived at thier more than humble adobe. They lived in a high class area, where the only houses available were three story buildings and mansions. The two assassins lived in a mansion together. It came as a package deal when the two had decided to work together. They had proven to be two times more effective when they were on a hit. Flint opened the white lexus's car door and stepped out, stretching his lower back.

"You know..." Flint began, now cracking his neck, "The Lexus is nice and everything, but don't you kind of wish there was more space to put your legs?" Rosevell stepped out of the car, un-affected by the fancy car's tight interior.

"Not really. As long as it fits all of our equipment, then its fine." Rosevell dug into the car trunk and pulled out a large duffle bag, which Flint knew was obviously filled with sniper and pistol magazines, modded C4, and other ordanance. Flint yanked out the key to the high-class vehicle and walked along the cement path to the front door besides the pink-haired echidna. Ever since they had been working together, the two had bonded very close together. They approached the door. After Flint jambled with his key ring and unlocked the door, the two had stepped into the rather large mansion's interior.

"Here, let me take that for you..." Flint said, as he slipped Rosevell's duffle bag from her arm to his. "I got it." Flint took off his shoes and made his way down the corridor without question. Right passed the bathroom lay the Armoury, which no doubt was filled with all kinds of glorious equipment. The supplies in the metal room ranged from Assualt Rifles to little suit-cases that explode when you open them. Some of the methods the two used to elimate thier targets were... interesting; depending on the client's prefrence.

Flint punched in the fourteen-digit code number and opened the Armoury door. He unzipped the duffle bag and placed all the equipment in thier designated areas. Uzi's go on the sub-machine gun rack, while fragmentation grenades go underneath the Assualt Rifle rack, in the Grenade compartment. All of thier assassins funds went into aquiring new equipment for thier line of work. Flint stuffed the duffle-bag with the othere duffle bags under the Weapon Mods compartment and closed the armoury door. He back-tracked through the corridors. In the main living room, where they had first entered through the door, lay a black leather couch, an HP Laptop sitting on the wooden table made from Chankiri tree, a 1500x1500 HD flat-screen TV, and a pink echinda with an expression on her face that said 'Bored out of my fucking mind'. Flint sat on the other end of the couch, trying to avoid Rosevells bare feet.

"Whatcha watchin?" Flint asked, boredom invading his voice.

"The news..." Rosevell said, her expression on her face blank.

"Anything new happen?"

"Yea, they just found the bodies of a weapon trafficking crime lord and his ten thugs." Rosevell snickered. "You wouldn't know bout any of this, would you?"

"Mabye." Flint said, amused. The two were good friends. Ever since Flint's client had paired him up with Rosevell about ten years ago, the two were un-sepertable.

"Hey..." Rosevell cut in Flint's thoughts, "Whens the last time you've been to a club?" The grey and blue striped fox snickered...

"When's the last time I've drove a $1,000,000 dollar Lamborgini Duex Premuim car off a cliff due to bing-drinking?" Rosevell snickered at the memory, an event that had taken place about eight months ago. They had good times together.

"That's fair. But we should be partying or something..." Rosevell complained, jumping off the couch and throwing on her jacket. Flint grabbed her by the shoulder.

"You know that its not wise to show in public... espiecally in clubs."

"Oh come on Flint." Rosevell whined. She threw a leather jacket his way. Flint snatched it out of the hair with his right hand. "You gotta loosen up some." Flint thought this through a little while, stroking his striped tail in between his fingers.

"Well it had been a while since I've gotten wasted..." Flint snickered.

"Alright, lets roll!"

"Wait! I gotta get something." Flint shoved his sneakers on and made a second trip to the armoury. Posed above the wall by a display case, was a Sword, with an edged blade and ripped handle grip. The assassin took the weapon with him everywhere in public. You just never know when some body reconignizes you... untill its too late. It was small enough to conceal in his jacket and was made of a specail alloy. While it remained hard, sharp, and effective, it did not set off metal alarms, making transport from airport to airport easier than ever. The fox had used this blade for more than a decade. Even before his brother's departure, he had trained in the deadly art of Pivit Magua, a form of martial arts that mostly involves sword-to-sword and hand-to-hand combat. What makes this one of the most deadly forms of martail arts in the world, is the amount of stamina it requires to peform the effective hand motions needed to properly weld a sword for this type of combat. Flint took it off the rack and wrapped it around his torso with the sword strap the grey-striped fox had made onto it. He ran back to the living room, with an agitated pink echinda waiting for him.

"Ready."

"This him?" The notorious crime lord asked, his voice demanding respect.

"Yes sir." One of his assistants confirmed, further examing the file. Besides from contact information, such as the subjects name, adress, and phone number, was a white and black picture. The subject had quills pulled down to his back, and appeared to be of hedgehog species, with a smirk that said 'Whats up?'. This subject was highly popular with the community.

"Alright..." The crime lord said, releasing a puff of smoke from his cigar. The small office had filled up with an addicting smell.

"Alright... send someone to deal with him..." The assistant looked at his boss, a smirk arising from his expression. Others misfortune had always amused the sick helper.

"Do you want to do it the way the client had prefered?" asked the assistant, scrolling through the underground hit page, browsing for an apprioprate hitman.

"Yes. More money. More power. We need this." The crime lord decided. He mashed his cigar into his ciggerate tray, putting out the small contained fire on the tip of the cigar and sending a small Ftttzzz sound through-out the room.

"Alright sir, it shall be arranged." The crime lord got up from his place from the chair and walked over to the window. They were on the third floor of a ware-house (aka gang HQ). He over-looked the small city blocks, observing people and cars all alike. And to think that this will all be mine... the crime lord thought to himself. All of the power in this urban city would soon be his...

Hmmm I'm gonna JUMP right into that plot I got set up! Review! Review! Review!