Dog-eat-Dog World

The wind blew the paper out of my hand; I groped for it in the air frantically, biting my lip in frustration. The weather had been like this for a fortnight already, rain, wind and cold, sharp gusts of air that would slap your face until it was red. I ran to catch up to the airborne piece of paper, the harsh wind whipping up my ear length brown hair into a misshapen hairdo, my hat nearly coming off.

My piece of paper now lay in a soppy heap on the cold unforgiving ground. I gingerly took it between gentle fingertips, wary of the fact I could tear the wet material. Looking at the curvy, but smudged, writing I was able to make out the words 'Tavern', 'Roger', 'Gold' and 'Room no.13'.

Cursing softly at the little information, I crumpled the paper and stashed it in my pocket, proceeding to walk down a flight of stairs towards an abandoned shack. I grinned toothily, peering through the old windows. Remembering how I used to play here when I was small.

I couldn't see anything inside due to the dark, so I stepped back observing my reflection. Bright green eyes, stared back at me upon a tanned complexion. A lean body clad in a trench coat and a fedora hat.

"Oi, boy!" I turned to the source of the voice.
"Yes sir?"

An old man stood there smiling, a few of his front teeth were missing. I cringed.

"You'll catch a cold out here, you should find some shelter,"
'what's with the sudden nice gesture?' I thought.

Some people say I'm paranoid, I'm not, I'm just terribly alert. Also I have a right to do so since this town of Raftel is infamous for thieves, pirates, drug dealers, smugglers you name it.

"Any catch?" I asked bluntly, suspicious of the old man.
"Catch? None at all lad, a small boy like you just shouldn't be out here it's dangerous," my eye twitched in annoyance at the 'small' comment, but I let it go since he didn't know I absolutely loathed being called short or small, infact any name that had to do with being 'vertically impaired'.

"Yeah anyway do you know any good taverns?" I asked, keeping my voice friendly.
"Well there are a lot of taverns, the best here is Gold Roger,"

A light seem to go off in my head. Bingo. The smudged writing 'Tavern' and 'Roger' came to me. I grinned.

"Thanks old man!" I called running off.
"Do you know where Old Roger is?" he asked. I stopped in my tracks for a moment, then trudged back, my cheeks a flaming red. He started to laugh and turned to the right direction and walked where I presume Old Roger was.

Soon the strong aroma of tobacco and alcohol invaded my nostrils; I coughed a bit and looked up at the bright neon sign spelling 'Old Roger' in flashing yellow and purple. Tearing my eyes away from the offending colours, I thanked the old and and went in.

'Well this is just sad…' I thought looking around. The place was stark empty the only thing occupying the dry bar was the its lingering trademark smell. Pushing that thought aside I asked the bartender.

"Is there a room number Thirteen here?" The bartender gave me a look but nonetheless pointed towards a staircase.
"Fifth door to the left,"

I nodded thanks and left taking the stairs two at a time. I arrived at the specified door, he number thirteen in big gold digits. Taking a deep breath I calmed myself. I had received that piece of paper as an invitation to an assignment. As I mentioned before this town of Raftel was famous for pirates, thieves, drug dealer etc, including assassins.

Knock…knock…

The door swung open and a coy voice said

"Come in, I've been expecting you,"

I rolled my eyes befre putting on an emotionless face, did all criminal bad guys have to be so cliché in their greetings. I walked in to see a women in her late thirties, a plume of smoke wafting from her fancy cigar.

"Ah, its finally good to see you Jin. I assume you had no trouble finding me?" she asked. I slightly narrowed my eyes, there was something wrong with her, actually there was something wrong with all my bosses. Whether he or she is a complete megalomaniac or a psychopath, which is probably what my new boss was.

She seemed to ignore my temporary loss of concentration and handed me a photo.

"Eliminate him that is all,"

I looked at the photo, immediately taking two steps back and drawing my gun.

BAM!

Blood spurted from my hand, effectively knocking out the weapon out of my grip. I turned my head slightly to the left to see the bartender from before pointing a smoking gun at my head, its barrel gleaming evilly in the fluorescent light.

"This is for my husband," she smiled wickedly.

Raftel. Infamous for pirates, thieves, drug dealers, assassins the list goes on. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there. There is a thin line between life and death. It's either shoot or be shot. I, Jin the assassin, learnt that the hard way.

"Goodbye Jin sweety…"

BAM!