This is a co-write between me and slayya.

He sat on the small stool at the bar. The bubbles in his Martini rose as he twisted the cocktail stick through his fingers. He was sitting faced away from the bar, watching…waiting.

The target was a man in his early thirties; rather short for his weight – 290lbs; he worked for a sales organisation; they hadn't told him much.

He lifted the cocktail stick to his slightly parted lips and took the olive in between his teeth, sliding it off with one effortless movement. He knocked it around his mouth with his tongue before swallowing it, still watching.

The man got up from his seat, making a gesture towards the exit. He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and nodded at the gentlemen.

As his target walked past him, he downed his Martini and rose to follow. Time to work.


He watched from a dark corner, the smoke submerging his target's situation. He put a hand on his back pocket, completely casual.

He pulled the gun from under his suit-jacket, out of the pocket, fingering the trigger. He positioned the silencer carefully, clipping it into place.

He took aim, and fired.

The man's knees gave way, his body crumpled to the ground. His arm hit the floor with a thud, the cigarette rolling to a halt at his killer's feet, glowing orange in the moonlight.

He blew at the smoke, tucking his gun back under his jacket. He started to walk away from the scene; he never left any trace, almost as if he never even existed.

He smiled slightly. His work was done here.

This was the life of Troy Bolton.

I know this was a very very short prologue, but we think it works better this way. Promise they will be longer in future. Please Read and Review. Please, please, please?!