One eye closed, the other narrowly glancing through the green tinted scope, watching closely as the cross hovered in front of the unfortunate target.
Finger against the trigger.
A deep breath in.
Hold it.
Finger slowly pressing back.
Breath let free.
Trigger activated.
Bullet fired.
Rejected back and target found dead.
Mission over.
The short man sighed, putting the safety lock back on then pushed himself up from his stomach, getting to his feet. His gloved hand pushed his hood down while his other held on tightly to his rifle. Pale blond hair stood in front of his brown eyes as he watched the - now viewed as ants - run to help the dead being. Of course no help would be needed; a bullet of that size and gone into the fragile skull would mean nothing but death. Of course it would be possible for someone to survive. That's why he also stayed in his spot, watching the ants, until he was certain the victim was dead.
You may find that repulsive.
How could a human being be that bloodthirsty?
Could one even be seen as a human?
For all anyone saw him as was an obedient monster. Cold blooded and a quench that only killings could satisfy. A man with dead and hollow eyes, no voice of his own opinion, no say in what his actions should be, a slave.
No one would understand the responsibilities of an assassin. Of course it wasn't seen legal, but the bosses had their ways around the law. In fact, they played the workers of the law like puppets in an inhuman twisted way. All the assassins could do was obey what they were ordered to do: kill this man. You do it. Kidnap this man. Do it. Murder the whole family. Do it or you can die along with the family. They were all puppets of a higher power. Even if you decided to want out of it, you were seen as a liability and killed before you even lived half a week out of your new life.
Assassinating people was your beginning and your end.
Now how does one even fall in the hands of those bloodthirsty bosses? Perhaps you had no where to go, no family, no life, you didn't even exist and lived amongst the street rats. Maybe you felt like being a rebel to the law; wanted a job of high risk, but an insane amount of money. Just got out of jail huh? What other place would ever think of hiring you? An organization would always accept an ex-con and turn them back into the beast they once were. Sometimes you were recruited and there was no real opening for rejecting the offer.
It is such a lonely, dark and cold occupation. No one to trust. No one who cares. Money and murder is all anyone wants in the organization. No friendships, only partnerships. No thought of a family ever - don't even think of starting one or having one when you join up. All you have in the world is yourself, your gun, and your cash prize.
Welcome to hell.
Lingering in the shadows, after witnessing the death, the short assassin moved out to escape the scene and to report back to the boss that the deed was done, on his behalf of course.
The assassin was always sneaky and careful - getting caught only meant death though sometimes it meant wounded, only to be found and taken to the hospital, and that was worse than death.
Hospitals: a place that smelled much too clean, was much too bright for comfort, and too much questioning went down in the room you were trapped in. If they caught a hint of what you did for your life - say hello to prison or welcome death. You can't let them know your job nor let them push you into giving the organization your in away. You'd be on the wanted list for life - from your group and as well with the police. Even though the law strings are tugged on and manipulated, certain issues are too great to control on the law side.
The area was silent other than the silencing sounds of bugs as he trekked on. His weapon now slung over his shoulders, bounced against his back. His gun was cleaned after every mission, taken care of like a baby, for it was the only friend and family he would ever come to know. His boots crushed the grass beneath him, just like his hands crushed the lives of men and woman and families.
Brown eyes were directed to the ground, and once he took that glance up, the shadow coming for him was much to close to defend and he found himself back on the ground.
Shit.
The one time he didn't pay attention to surroundings, this sort of thing happened. Furrowing his brows, his legs went up, kicking back the oncoming attack. The stumbling man was shrouded in black and it was hard to tell if he was a rivaling assassin or a friend of the man he just murdered.
No time to figure that out though.
Rolling over and quickly getting back to his feet, he moved slowly around, locking eyes with the intruder. Hand to hand combat wasn't his forte but he was definitely not a weakling that would let some other assassin take him down. The blond man was slowly reaching for his gun, but then everything was dark.
The intruder had not advanced on him.
Why was everything so dark?
Where was he?
The smell was odd.
He could hear a beeping.
Eyes flickered open revealing bright lights.
Someone was hovering over him.
He couldn't find the movements to defend himself.
But then a voice.
"You awake?"
Huh?
His eyes managed to fully open and stay like that, wincing at the lights, but was able to grasp an idea of his surroundings. As well as the appearance of the man above him. Some blond man in a coat, looking down at him through glasses. Damn, did he look pissed. He'd be lying if he didn't admit that he was slightly intimidated by the newcomer.
"What's your name?"
Lab coat. Smell. White bright room.
Fuck.
He was trapped in a hospital.