Rich swirls of scarlet and crimson flew down the drain. Quickly, Colonel Sebastian Moran snapped a photo, immediately sending it to his employer to get the second half of his pay. Sebastian Moran was known in many circles as 'The Tiger' or, more simply, 'Tiger'. The nickname had started Afghanistan, when his 'adventurous' personality got the best of him. Or, more accurately, when his bloodlust did. Their was a giant tiger, it had started eating the people around their base, and they had him on standby because he got grazed by a bullet. Oh no, not shot, grazed. It was bullshit. So, instead of lying back and doing crap-knows-what like the rest of the 'shot-down' calvary, he went on a, how do you say, hunting trip. Came back with the monstrosities' pelt draped over his shoulders. Well, after he drug the beast into town, selling it's meat and everything. Using the money to supply himself with cigarettes and random weapons he thought looked cool. Sebastian had a very simple way of thinking; get your job, smoke a cigarette, kill the target, repeat. It was good... While he was in the military, anyways. Being a sniper had been great for that while, but eventually his shot had become so precise that it became boring. Almost a chore, if you asked him. Soon after the tiger incident, they allowed him back on missions. It wasn't long after that that he got discharged. They said he'd become too trigger happy, remorseless. He would kill the target, and anyone who was within five feet of said target. Couldn't have witnesses, as he said.
His phone rang, playing the small ringing tone. Pressing the green button, he lifted it so he could hear the person on the other end.
"You did good. Full payment will be sent shortly." A small click told him the call was over, and he pulled up his bank records on his phone as he exited the penthouse. It was a nice place, but too much white for his personal taste. He prefered the colour red. Not because that's the colour of blood, don't be so gruesome. He liked it for a much deeper reason, even if he himself couldn't place it. His childhood home. A small cabin surrounded by rows and rows of flowers in the garden. The façade always hid what that bastard he had to call 'father' did. The happy front with splatters of violets, blues, and a bit of black covered up the splashes of the same colours on his own skin. The same yellow from the sunflowers echoing the pale discoloration from when his parents forgot to feed him for a few days, or take let him go outside. The blossoms of irises, lavender, the occasional black dahlia sprouting the same as the bruises on his skin, only unhidden. There were pink ones like the recently warmed flesh from where he was forced into a too hot bathtub. White from skin indentations and bergamot squaw. All colours, shapes, and sizes of flowers. But no red. His mother would constantly rotate the flowers, but not once were there any red. He could never remember having any red marks, either. Sure, there were pinks and oranges, but never quite red. It was a safe colour, one that always brought good feelings and hope. Not for his victims, tough. There was no hope in the world for them.
The other two quid appeared in his account as he got in his car. Tossing the phone in it's black case on the tawny seat next to him. Today had been a good day, great even. His target had been a little, well, gory. He was an abusive bastard, beat his wife and child, and it was his turn to be beat... And dismembered, yes, but Sebastian had no doubt 'Mr. Halty' had it coming. His phone rang again, and with a slight grown, he picked it up from the seat next to him, and answered it.
"What?" He snapped. Not always a good idea to snap at the big boss, but he was sick of getting a call every twelve minutes. Holding the phone with his shoulder, he started the car, before driving off.
"Relax, we gotta new assignment for ya. Get down to headquarters, this is a big payday. Might just make your name!" In all honesty, Sebastian couldn't care less about making a name or how big the payday is, he was just enraptured to be getting a new job. It always seemed like they were too few and far between, never had one after another like this, before. He sometimes wished they'd either give him something else to do between kills, or let him freelance a bit. It was annoying actually.
"Kay, be there in ten." This, should be fun.