Grantaire was a killer, plain and simple. He added no embellishments to his profession and he sought no reward or praise. He was a hired gun, a ruthless mercenary. Give him a target and by the next day, that target would be dead. Grantaire wasn't proud of what he did, but he wasn't exactly ashamed either. That rush of adrenalin he would feel as he stabbed his victim or felt their bones snapping under his fingers was enough to overcome any shortcomings he had about his work.

It didn't sadden him either that he could kill with such little remorse. He knows that life was just one stage in an entire cycle, and that death was another. Where and when that death came didn't matter, seeing as it was completely inevitable.

Grantaire was alone in the world. What other status could a man like him have? He had no friends, and he had only one acquaintance: the man who handed out his targets. Once every two days they met in some alleyway or darkened corner of a bar, staying only for a few minutes, but that man was the only thing that remained constant in Grantaire's life, even if he didn't know his name.

Grantaire walked down the deserted street, looking for the other man. It was late at night, so no one else would be about. Eventually, Grantaire found him, crouching in the shadows.

"R," he said, addressing Grantaire by the only name he gave out. Giving out his full name would be dangerous, so he preferred using that singular letter. It had become so much a part of him that he had even taken to marking it on some of the scene's of his crimes, making him quite the celebrity with the press. "This is your next guy," the man said, handing Grantaire a manila folder with a single sheet of paper inside. "His name is Enjolras."

"Who wants him dead?"

"The government." At this, Grantaire looked up sharply. How did the government know anything about him? His operations were extremely covert, and as far as he knew, no one but the shadiest people knew how to request his services. "Yeah, R. They know all about you. You better watch your back," the man said with a slight chuckle, before disappearing into the shadows.

~:~

Grantaire researched this Enjolras and quickly tracked him down. He was a student at the University of Paris and he was the leader of a student activism group. Grantaire could only guess that this was the reason the government wanted him dead. He had a large friend group, men who referred to themselves as Les Amis De L'ABC. He shared an apartment with two of the men in the group, Courfeyrac and Combeferre. Enjolras had known those two his whole life. As for his classes, it seemed that one of his friends was in each class. This eliminated the possibility of Grantaire picking him off between classes. As for the rest of Enjolras' time, that was wasted away at the Cafe Musain, a small building of towards the edge of the university's campus. It wasn't deemed to be the most popular cafe in the area, but it did have a steady stream of customers. Grantaire could try and nab Enjolras in the middle of the crowd, but, as the place was frequented by Enjolras' friend group, it seemed highly unlikely that Grantaire could go about that unobserved.

Grantaire sighed, for the time being it seemed that he would just have to wait and watch for a moment when Enjolras would be alone. The minute all of Enjolras' friends were gone, Grantaire would sneak in and drop his target where he stood.

~:~

Enjolras stood at one of the back tables of the Cafe Musain, poring over files and documents concerning the most recent social issue he'd tackled. A bill had been introduced concerning the treatment of LGBTQ students in Parisian high schools, and Enjolras intended to make sure that the bill was approved and put into place. His friends had been focused for the first twenty minutes of their meeting, but they had all quickly become distracted by a drinking game proposed by Courfeyrac. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. He wished this bill had come a little sooner, so that he would have been able to hold rallies over it before he had to study for his final exams. He had barely slept an hour last night.

Enjolras then returned his attention to the piles of paper that lay before him and concentrated for hours until he looked up and realized that the cafe was nearly empty. Combeferre stood motioning to him from the doorway, and a man he didn't know with dark curls and strikingly bright blue eyes sat calmly in a corner, reading a book and drinking a coffee. Enjolras began to pack up his things, seeming to think it about odd that the man in the corner was drinking such a caffeinated beverage at such a later hour, but Enjolras wasn't one to judge. Perhaps the man had just as long a night ahead of him as Enjolras did.

Enjolras slipped the last of his possessions into his bag and followed Combeferre out of the Musain, not noticing the strange man's eyes on his back the entire way out. He and 'Ferre walked home along the pavement, discussing the upcoming protest. Enjolras and 'Ferre both agreed that the group needed to do some serious publicizing of the event if they wanted any turnout at all. Jehan, a poet and the only one in the group with at least some artistic talent, had designed a poster for the rally and given it to Enjolras earlier today. 'Ferre and Enjolras then dropped it off at the printers on their way home so that the posters would be ready to be hung up in two days time. They then agreed that Enjolras would come back tomorrow at the end of his classes. Alone.

The two continued on their merry way, neither of them noticing the figure slinking behind them through the shadows. Grantaire smiled grimly as he heard their plan to pick up the posters, knowing that tomorrow afternoon he would get the chance to take Enjolras down. One shot to the back of the head from a nearby rooftop would be all it took to take the blonde down. Silently, Grantaire turned away and was surprised to find himself face to face with his acquaintance. Grantaire jumped, surprised that the man had been able to sneak up like that on him.

"Revision on your assignment, R," the man began, wasting no time. "The government needs Enjolras alive, not dead, and you're to bring him to this address as soon as possible." The man handed Grantaire a slip of paper, then, before Grantaire could protest, slipped off into the night.