I love my job, i new it was my calling from a very young age. Do not think it had anything to do with a childhood trauma or anything like that, If there was ever a happy upbringing it was mine and even to date I do have a great relationship with all my relatives, they think I'm working as a freelancer mediator and I can't help thinking that might be true.

Some people are good with art, crafts, cooking or numbers, well… I'm good at killing and as everyone who's good at something I enjoy it.

I don't know why, but there's just something about seeing the life leaving another person's body as you look at their now vacant eyes that give me Goosebumps and makes pretty little butterflies over my belly. It's like the rush of falling in love and getting high altogether without the trouble of break ups or STDs.

The only reason I'm not the best paid assassin in the world is that I'm a little picky with the victims, they must be evil. It has nothing to do with moral or guilt, as any other sociopath I don't feel any empathy for other humans, but the only thing that makes killing people worth the trouble is that last fight stance on their eyes. Only the evil ones give you the "I'll see you in hell" look, that last angry stare before the lights go out. Killing people and not being able to enjoy that look is like having sex without the least hope of an orgasm. So I don't go for all the trouble of stalking and covering my tracks for any less than that.

Sadly that position has taken a negative effect on my job offers; three months ago I almost killed a lawyer. I mean, I was just about to slit his throat but as I saw his eyes it was easy for me to know he wasn't my type. The biggest turn off was when he begged me to spare his family, so I left his home as fast and stealthy as I came. Just for these kinds of mishaps I always kill wearing a mask since the most parts of your body you cover the lesser chance of leaving evidence or being recognized, that's the reason I was never caught. But ever since then things have been a little slow, I guess my client wasn't pleased with my performance so he gave me a few bad references.

So here I am, bored and jobless. Money's not a problem I still have more than enough and I'm the kinda girl who likes the simple things. Still what I miss more than anything is to feel the blood running on my fingers or the musical sound of a neck breaking under my hands. I realized that I could kill for fun and not wait for any profit; it would keep me in shape until a good job came up and what was even better is the prospect of picking my own victims for a change.

Gangsters are just perfect for me, their aggressiveness ensures me that delightful look I'm always looking for and there's little chance the police will pay any attention if they went missing.

I got myself in a skimpy little dress, and wandered around a tough neighborhood I knew was ruled by a dangerous gang at 2am, I was pretty sure they were also involved into other more illicit activities aside from the typical drug dealing.

I walked less than two blocks before a bag covered my head and I was thrown into a car, fifteen minutes later I found myself in a medium sized house surrounded by a group of five punks. With my best lamb to the slaughter face I did my best to hide my excitement.

The largest one looked as fat as a sumo wrestler, he spoke up to one tall slender man that if he didn't have that creepy weasel like posture and evasive eyes might have been attractive.

-"Welcome to the big leagues kid. If you wanna pull the deal with the big boss you gotta prove you're a man, cause we don't take in fags if you know what I mean. Now show this bitch who's boss"-And with that statement he pushed the idiot towards me, the rest of the gangsters begun to cheer in encouragement.

This little pathetic weasel with be a nice start, by the slumped shoulders and shy look I could tell he was the weakest link, I decided to choke him a little before I snapped his neck. Nonetheless I would play the helpless victim a little while longer for the mere fun of it, is exiting to play with the victims before doing them. I cried and begged him not to hurt me.

All my plans were shattered away when a complication came up, the weasel threw himself above me, his hands grabbed my hair with force and he put his face in the hollow of my neck. Instead of bites and kisses his mouth only spoke to me in a gentle voice.

"I'm not going to rape you, I need you to play along and when I say "back off" I want you to run towards the door. I'll start shooting at them and keep you covered so you better be fast, do you understand?"-

-"Yes"- I said still playing victim, not only he wasn't evil he was also brave and righteous enough to risk his life for a woman he barely knew. The last time I killed someone like him I ended up with insomnia for a week, it wasn't even a gratifying experience.

Out of the sudden I realized I could still have some fun, when he said "back off!" I leaped at the gangsters instead of the door. The weasel turned into a kung Fu fighter, he easily subdued one of the punks beside him, removed his gun and aimed at the fat one while I stabbed the other two right in the jugular with the tiny daggers I hid under my dress. My hero was threatening the fat guy with the gun and I found that boring so I removed one of the daggers from the other guys neck and threw it straight into the fat guys eye, he was dead much faster than I hoped but the seizures he had because of the brain damage were hilarious. Yes I killed but it was all so fast I didn't have time to savor it.

Not a bad night after all, but as I saw the shock over this man's face, the hidden hero, I wandered what to do about him. Killing him wasn't appealing but leaving a witness running around wasn't logic either.

The submissive attitude was gone revealing the true stance of someone with years of military training, he was obviously undercover, his blue eyes scanning me not knowing whether I was a threat or not, after all I had just killed three large men with nothing more than tiny daggers in less than a minute.

-"Who are you?"- He demanded doing a wonderful job at looking calm and focused considering he had just witnessed a massacre.

-"Delilah Jones"- I answered truthfully with the friendliest smile I had, didn't want to scare him –"and you? I warn you that if you lie you'll join these guys, are we clear?"

-"My name is Michael Westen"- he said solemn.