Practicing pov again.
Steampunk/Noir setting.
Warnings: Probably my grammar, chapters later on will be darker. Sorry for any major mistakes, I fail.
There is always something awfully dramatic about a crime scene. The smell, the taste that gets caught in your mouth, the idea that the body on the ground is unable to move anymore, and we cannot forget about the blood. Guns leave a lot of blood behind, they are messy but they get the job done so quickly. A knife can be just as efficient if you want to sneak around, to catch your prey off guard, but with a gun you can face them. You can look into their eyes as you take their last breath. You can see the fear, the regret, the realization that is over, you can see everything. You become their God for a couple of seconds, but they don't pray to you, they beg, they beg like they do in church, like they do at home. They beg for another day, for a better future, for something different than this, but you are not a merciful god, you're not any vision of splendor that any religion out there says will be at the end of the road. You are here to do one job and one job alone, to kill them.
The gun feels warm in my hand, nothing of that cold bullshit. I have done this enough times to know that when I pop a bullet in someone's heart, the aftermath always leaves the gun warm. I stare at the scene in front of me and I feel no real regret but I find something stupidly hypnotizing about it. The old man is laying on his back, blood oozing out of the wound on his chest. He is still alive, but he won't be in a few more seconds. Simon Holtson, that was his name, and it was all I needed to dig information about him. He wasn't a bad man per say, he had a wife and three kids. He was loyal to his wife and never abused his children, but he wasn't the smartest man alive. If you are going to try to sue a hospital then you better make sure you know what you are doing, especially when it's a mob-run hospital. If you are going to try to prove what kind of scam they are doing, then you better hire a few body guards because chances are that you are going to be dead before you even make it to court. He made it twice, then they hired me.
He's dead now, he stopped breathing a few seconds ago and his eyes are staring back into mine. He never looked away, what a brave old man, but of course he was brave, he tried to fight the mafia. But, as usually is the case, the mafia came out on top again. You always have to be two steps ahead, old man, never think that they won't do the worse, because they will. Still, I find myself leaning over and running my hand over his eyes, closing his lids before walking away. The dark alley where I had cornered him blocked the outside world and as I stepped into the street rain pours down on me. It is always cloudy and rainy, and for once I wish it wasn't raining, but rain is good for the business, it gets rid of any evidence I might had left. I chuckle to myself, because I never leave anything behind, that's why no one has caught me, that's why the police are breaking their heads trying to catch me.
The raven, what a corny name, but it's the unofficial name the police gave me.
The sky is as dark as ever, and the shadows from the street lamps seem to grow bigger and bigger. The tall buildings around me keep the streets small, and block out any light the moon could give. Not like the moon is very visible either, I hardly ever see it but when I do it's above my window and it always has an eerie glow to it, as if it knows how bad this place is, or maybe is just my own consciousness trying to eat me alive. But I simply shrug it off, like always, there is no room for guilt or sentiment, not in my world, not in the world I live in. Not if I want to stay, and believe me, I would like to make my stay a permanent one.
I pull my overcoat over my head and run towards a newspaper stand. The last thing I need is to catch a cold because of this rain, but that wouldn't be too surprising. It is the end of fall and the beginning of winter. Nights are starting to get worse, but my warm fireplace keeps me sleeping like a log at night. Shit like the weather is not something I have to worry about, specially when I just got paid for this job, and even if I hadn't, I have enough money to last me a few years. Assassins are not cheap, that's why I love it. I ain't gonna lie, I like a good life, I like having a good house in a good neighborhood. I like my expensive furniture and two hundred dollars suits. I like the high end living and I intend to keep it this way.
The rain comes to a stop and I peek at the sky, wondering if it is just mocking us or if the rain stopped for good. Either way I buy a newspaper to thank the guy for letting me take cover under his stand and I walk away with my newspaper under my arm. I ignore the people around me, and block out their conversations. I tend to do that a lot, but I do it for very good reasons. You can't concentrate in what's around you if you pay attention to other people, their voices are a distraction and block out the big picture. If I listen to them then I wouldn't be able to listen to the police sirens in the distance, and how they are getting closer. Someone probably found the body already, that was quick.
It is shame that the rain didn't last longer, it would have helped with the body discomposing faster, which makes it harder for the police to figure out when exactly was the victim killed. The sirens are my exit call though, and I start to move through the alleyways. I know this city like the palm of my hand, the only shit I hate doing is going through the tunnels underground but that's only because they leave my clothes dirty and I don't like dry cleaners that much.
I keep my senses sharp, not letting myself get caught off guard. Even if I'm a dangerous man and even if I know this place, it doesn't change the fact that you should always expect the unexpected, after all, you never know what you can find on these streets.
The alley I'm taking is going to lead me near main street and after two more alleys I should be on my street. I can't wait to get home and change from these wet clothes, they are starting to weigh on me and the extra weight is more frustrating than anything else.
As I walk through the alley I spot a couple of drunk people, but they look so out of it I don't even have to worry about them. Even if someone was stupid enough to try to mug me, they honestly wouldn't stand a chance at all. I mentally growl when I step into a puddle and the disgusting water soaks my socks. Rain is so useless in such a big city, its only purpose is to get on my nerves.
I spot another two people near the end of the alley but I have to stop once I'm near one of them. This one, this one doesn't belong. The first thing that catches my interest are the nice and polished shoes, they look expensive. My eyes follow the long legs and I notice the expensive black slacks that have a matching wide vest coat. The red tie stands out in the dull colors and seem to be the only color I'm able to see, just like the blood of the man I killed not too long ago. The white dress shirt is stained, with more crimson. The man is bleeding. It is then that I decide that this isn't my business.
I start walking again but something stops me, a hand is holding onto my wrist and I look down at the man once more. He has his eyes closed still but his hand is now holding my wrist, the hold is weak and shows how much blood he has lost but he still manages to move. The shadows dissolve around his face and I can see the flawless skin that is framed by dark raven hair. I can also see how young he looks. He fights to pull himself away from the wall he was leaning on but his eyes are still closed.
"Don't go..." He groans, sounding in pain. I notice more blood pours from his shoulder. It is a bullet wound, and from what I can see it managed to miss the artery but that doesn't mean he's safe.
"Tough shit, this ain't my business." I pull my hand but his hold only tightens. He is starting to get on my nerves.
"I...I have money..." He hisses, out of breath. I notice a heavy accent right away but I can't quite pin-point it, French? Italian? No, maybe German. "If you help me, I'll pay you. My watch alone is worth a shit ton." I hear him chuckle, but is a desperate one. He isn't finding this funny at all, he is just completely out of options at this point. He doesn't know what to do and doesn't want to die.
I make the mistake of looking down at him because just when he opens his eyes and I can feel my sense of survival breaking. Fuck, he has the oddest eyes I have ever seen. They glow, and shine like two pretty golden gems. No, gold looks like shit compared to this kid's eyes. They almost look see through and the hint of green near his irises make the color stand out even further. I can't look away, and I can't stop staring. The eyes go perfectly with the creamy skin, dark hair and the round yet sharp face with the nice puffy, faded pink lips.
Doll face, that's all I can think of. And doll face is staring at me, his wide eyes are an open book that show desperation and even a hint of broken pride. He is not used to asking for help but he can't do anything else right now.
I can feel myself smirking and how could I not? I guess I'm kinda of a sick fuck but having that kind of face look at me like that brings some kind of satisfaction. The same satisfaction I get when I'm about to kill someone and they stare at me like I'm God itself. What can I say, I'm a sucker for pretty faces. I'm not perfect.
"Alright, where to doll face?" I chuckle at the scowl he gives me and I swear it's like his eyes suddenly have fire in them. But he can't really complain right now, instead he attempts to get up.
"Anywhere that's safe, or to a private doctor, I think the bullet is still inside." He can hardly get on his feet and I sigh. I reach over to grab him and he quickly looks up at me with his sharp eyes. He looks cautious, he doesn't trust me at all. Smart kid.
"I'm sure it is, else you would have bleed to death by now..." I help him up and let him lean against me. "Hold this against your wound." I give him the news paper I bought not too long ago and he does what he is told.
I can tell right away that this isn't doll face's first time doing this. He puts up an act as soon as we are out of the alley. He acts like a normal drunk and I'm sure of that by now because of how much blood he has lost he doesn't have to put up much of an act. He can't lose more blood though, or else he is going to need some extra and I highly doubt I have his type in my house.
He keeps dragging his feet, by now I'm sure it's taking all of his will power to stay conscious. We are near my house, and I know I'm being stupid for bringing him here but at the same time I consider it another job. He is going to pay up and I'm going to make sure of it, and if not I'm going to make sure his pretty face has scars for life.
I make the kid lean against my fence as I unlock my front gate, and after I shove it open hold onto him again. He closes the gate behind him and now my front door is the last thing left, by now doll face's eyes are rolling back and he looks so pale he might as well be dead. The color is drained from his lips and his eyes are slowly closing.
"Don't pass out." I snap at him and gently slap his face. That seem to snap him out of it because he is holding onto me again. I finally unlock my door and drag him inside, the moment I lock my door I drop the act and easily pick him up. I slip my arm underneath his knees and lift him up. He weighs little to nothing, scrawny kids always do. I quickly take him to my studio except instead of staying there I move the chair and the carpet underneath my office chair. A hidden door is there and I step on the switch underneath my desk. The door opens on its own, the gears cracking as it does so. The room lights up on its own, and the light blue walls make the room so bright it looks sterile. It actually is, this is where I take care of unnecessary shit.
This is my blue room, also known as my own little private surgery room. It is my own hospital for when I get hurt. I have taken bullets before, got stabbed, and had a few broken bones. I take care of my own wounds here and when I can't, I call my own private doctor. By know she knows how to get here on her own but I don't think I need her right now. I won't know until I check if the kid has lost as much blood as I think.
I quickly make my way down the steps, two steps at a time. The room smells clean and fresh and is even a little bit cold but I don't have time to care about that now. I lay down the kid on the sterile, stainless steel table, before quickly ripping off his shirt and vest. I take that off quickly and by now doll face looks like he's ready to pass out.
I can't waste any more time and my body is not letting me. I have done this so many times I go through the process like my morning routine. I quickly take off my over coat and coat, before rolling up the sleeves of my dress shirt. I wash my hands as quickly as I can before going to one of he cabinets to grab everything I'm going to need. I put everything on the small cart next to me and then drag it over to where doll face is.
I grab one one of the small brown bottles and a syringe. The needle goes in easily and I suck in the liquid. Once there's around four milliliters I yank the needle out and tap the glass, while pressing on the bottom of the syringe, some liquid comes out and then my hand moves with no hesitation. The needle goes into the kid's arm and the liquid as well.
"Stay awake doll eyes, I can't let you fall asleep." He hardly nods at me but I know this sedative is going to do the opposite than most do, it will keep him awake. It will also ease the pain but not really too much, not unless I wanna drug him up more and risk him dying.
I grab the second bottle, this one being iodine. I use a clean piece of cloth to rub it on the wound and the skin around it, he hisses but stays still. Cute, he knows what to do, I'm guessing this is not the first time he had to do this either. Now comes the fun part though, I put on a pair of clean gloves and grab the scalpel I prepared.
Doll face closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe. He looks more awake but in no better shape than before. He knows what's coming. I hold onto his shoulder to keep it in place as I bring the scalpel down. I open up the wound just a bit more, just enough to let me do what I have to do. I can hear the flesh being cut and the noises the blood makes as it tries to crawl out from the wound. It is almost like a squishy kind of noise, like quiet splashing water.
He is trying really hard not to squirm and by now he is chewing on his lips, trying to distract himself, I can see him clawing at the table. He takes deep breathes, and keeps his eyes shut. Shame, I would have liked to see how they looked right now.
I drop the scalpel with the other stuff and grab the long sponge forceps. This is going to probably hurt him more than anything else. I can feel his body tensing up but I do not hesitate, I push the end of the forceps into the wound and more blood pours out. He is arching his back now and turning but not enough to bother me. He is still trying to keep himself glued to the table. The forceps rub against his bare flesh and muscle. They dig their way through the wound until I can feel something firm, something that is for sure not bone. It's the bullet. I twist my tool just a bit, tilting it upwards and letting the bullet fall in between the two mouths. I got it, nothing to worry about anymore, doll eyes, it'll end soon. Slowly but surely I pull the bullet out and drop it into a small dish.
He is panting heavily, I probably didn't wait long enough for the sedative to fully works but oh well, what is done is done. Good job kid, you took it like a man. I chuckle to myself and grab a needle and thread. The only thing that is left to do is to close the wound. I'm so used to doing stitches that it takes me less than five minutes to get it done. It's done, doll face is going to be fine now. I clean up his wound and the rest of the blood and by now he is squirming and looking like he is ready to pass out again, probably from pain but the drug is keeping him awake.
He is probably going to pass out soon one way or the other. Hopefully he won't die. I honestly can't tell if he needs blood or not, I'm going to have to wait to see how he does. For now I can at least make this room a little bit warmer.
"Don't move, I'll be back." He hardly nods as I leave the room. My studio has hidden vents on the floors, that way the room downstairs can also warm up. I start a fire on my fireplace and then close the hidden door. I put the carpet back on top and the chair. I'm sure doll eyes is so out of it by now that he is not going to mind that I'm closing the door on him. I need to take care of myself now, I'm still wearing these god forsaken wet clothes.
My room is upstairs and I lock the door behind me. Even if the little shit's all the way in the basement, you can never be too sure, specially when the kid seems to know how painful it can be to take a bullet out. I take off my clothes and make my way to my bathroom,starting the shower and stepping inside letting out a sigh of relief. The stress quickly washes away from my body and I'm just glad this day is at least not boring. I made money by killing a careless man and now I'm making money from helping one. I'm going to sleep like a baby tonight. I feel myself smiling.
I finish my shower and make sure to clean up really well, I don't like when body fluids get on me, specially blood. The stench stays for quite a while, specially when it dries up. Once I'm out I change into another pair of slacks and another dress shirt, except I don't bother to put on any suspenders or tuck in my shirt. I'm not going anywhere, well, outside my house, for now I need to go back downstairs and check on the kid, make sure he didn't die. It would be a shame if he did, that face and eyes don't deserve to leave so quickly.
I go back downstairs and the brat is still on the table, he is breathing and for the looks of it passed out. I'm not surprised. I shake my head and pick up the little shit, taking him to the bed near the wall. Sleeping on the metal table was probably not going to do him any good. I drop a blanket on top of him because I'm a nice asshole like that, and his face relaxes even more now that he looks comfortable.
"Huh...you weird little shit." I shake my head and watch him sleep, his eyelashes are long, they frame his eyelids like eyeliner would on a woman. It probably also explained how his eyes were able to stand out so much when they were open. With eyelashes like that he could just bat them at anyone and get what he wanted. It certainly did help in my decision making, but like I said, I'm a sucker for pretty faces. I did mention it before, I like the high end living, and that includes pretty little fucks. This ain't no exception.
I walk away from doll eyes before I make myself feel more like a creep. I'm tired, sleeping only a couple of hours a day doesn't really give me much room to use extra energy, that's why I plan everything ahead so well, but I just had to get sucked into something I wasn't even sure if it was a good idea, yet.
The best thing I can do right now is sleep. Once I make sure the kid is really okay I go back upstairs and close the basement door behind me. I don't even make it to my room, I can't do that. I'm too paranoid to sleep so far away from a source of danger. Instead I take the couch in my studio and lay down with my arm on top of my eyes.
I dream of bright eyes and rose lips.
I wake up a couple of hours later feeling like a loser. I can still remember my dream and I have to roll my eyes. I need to get laid, maybe I should spoil myself this week and go to a damn whore house. Relationships are just not my thing, they get in the way of my job. I don't want to have to kill another partner because they are too nosy and dig into stuff they shouldn't have. Getting rid of bodies in a house is annoying.
I get on my feet and I'm about to walk to the kitchen when I feel something. Something moving, and its downstairs. I slowly kneel down and press my ear against the wooden floor. Doll eyes is awake. I sigh quietly and walk over to my desk, before sitting down and reaching underneath the desk to grab the gun that has been hidden in there. I move the chair next and the carpet before opening the hidden door. The gears crack and I slowly move downstairs, showing my gun first to let the kid know that I'm armed.
There is no more movement and I'm glad, I don't want things to get messy unless they have to. But doll face is standing there with the blanket over his shoulder, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He is not moving and is just looking at me with those wide pretty eyes. I walk over to see why he is standing near one of the corners, one of my cabinets is blocking the view of what he could be possibly looking at. My brain is running through everything that's in this room and once it finds what I'm looking at, I don't even have to see it anymore.
I keep a collection of newspapers here, all of them cut outs from murders I have committed. They help me keep track of police officers and the cases I was involved in. In my rush last night, I forgot all about it since I hadn't been in the newspapers for a while now. Shame, what a fucking shame doll eyes, after all of my hard work.
He keeps staring at me and he must have known what I was figuring out because he quickly shook his head and took a step back.
"What a waste, what a waste doll face." I sigh and point my gun at him.
"N-no wait! Don't shoot!" He shakes his head again and keeps his hands in front of his face like if that's going to stop a bullet, cute.
"Mhm? Why not? You gonna tell me that you are not going to rat me out or some bullshit like that? Sorry, but I really don't like to leave loose ends. It was my bad, honestly, I should have been more careful. Sorry doll, you just gotta go." I unclick the safety on my gun and point it straight at his face as I walk closer.
"Well, yes, I won't tell! But you don't understand, I can't tell! Because I'm the driver!" he is leaning against my cabinets now and is pointing at small pieces on my newspaper clips. It was tiny pieces that went with my news but were just to catch people's interest, then they would continue in other pages.
The driver, I heard that nickname before. It is the one guy that gets away every time, pretty much like me, but this guy doesn't kill. No, he steals money, jewels, anything valuable. He used to have a different nickname, but I don't remember it now. That was until he started to rob banks with other people, then he earned the nickname the driver since he was always the one driving the car and managing to fool the police with his crazy driving. Not only that but no one had ever seen his face even once.
"Oh? Interesting." I can feel myself smirking and a small smile tugs on doll face's lips. It looks nice on him. Still how cute, he thinks trading secrets is going to help him, too bad I'm not like most of the low life out there.
"S-so, you are the raven?" he hesitates when asking, but he asked none the less. The kid has got guts.
"Depends, do I get your name if I tell you?" He looks conflicted over my question but I'm the one pointing a gun at him, he can't really deny me anything.
"Eren...my name is Eren."
Nice name, it has a nice ring to it but I like the nickname I picked up for him better. It fits him even more.
"Then yes Eren, I am the raven and you have become a loose end."
"W-wait, no, I told you who I was, I am not going to tell anyone!" He panics and freezes up, his eyes are full of fear and I can almost see myself reflected in them. They are too perfect.
"Sorry doll eyes, wish I didn't have to get rid of such a pretty face but, we can't always win." He closes his eyes and curls up just a bit, his hands still front of him. I can see an opening near his neck, his chest, his face, but I don't wanna destroy what's perfect. But a bullet on his neck wouldn't look so bad, it could even look pretty if I feel like being a sap. I point the gun to where his neck is and just as I'm about to shoot I hear my front door being slammed open.
I can hear the foot steps and I react quickly. I run towards the stairs and close the hidden door, locking it as well before running back. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. I grab a lighter from one of the cabinets and set the newspapers on fire. The whole time doll face is just watching me. My house is clean, I only keep guns here but that isn't rare for an upscale neighborhood, and this room is not rare either. It goes with my fake identity. I am after all, supposedly a doctor. The question is, who the hell is in my house.
I hear the foot steps and people talking through the vents, I look down at doll face and smirk.
"It's your lucky day Eren, seems like you don't have to die today."
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