Sebastian was in his element. The chilly rooftop heightened all his senses to the extreme, and the comforting sight of his rifle perched on the edge of the building brought a warmness to him that was unrivaled. This was Moran's peaceful, waiting, predatory time and he loved it.
Or at least, he usually did. Today, however, the wait for his next target was a little less peaceful than hoped.
At seven a.m., Sebastian arrived on the roof. His Bor rifle, Alex, was set up on the ledge by seven-thirty. And then Sebastian kicked back and waited. His target probably wasn't going to emerge from his nest until at least one p.m., but better safe than killed by his boss for missing his mark.
At eight-thirty, Sebastian's phone rang. His ringtone had, apparently, been changed to some awful pop song that Jim fancied. The sniper snapped open the device and pressed it to his ear with a curt "Hello?"
The other line was quiet for a minute. Sebastian was about to hang up when the oh-so familiar Irish voice came through the speaker. "Hi Sebbie."
Sebastian sighed. Really, who else would be calling him? "What do you want, Jim?" While he was technically being an employee, Jim initiated contact using a derrivative nickname, so the subservient dog and his master structure was already broken.
"So rude, Colonel! And here I was, just trying to keep you entertained."
"Yeah, Boss. You're a riot." Jim was issuing some type of response, but Sebastian flipped the phone closed. He was busy and Jim was a twat. He reasoned that there would be some type of retaliation, but nothing too serious. Jim was kind of used to Sebastian ignoring him.
Ten minutes later, the blaring pop song rang out again. Sebastian grabbed the mobile quick. "I don't like my new tone," Sebastian reported.
"Well, I do. Also, doesn't anyone say hello anymore? Is common courtesy dead?"
"Common courtesy? I am currently under your direct orders to wait until a generally innocent person exits their house, at which point I will shoot them in their face. What about that says etiquette?"
"Ooh, I love it when you talk dirty."
"I'm hanging up now."
Sebastian switched the phone on silent and jammed it into his pocket. Peace at last.
After two more hours, Sebastian's quiet surveillance was interrupted by the roof's door bursting open. "Shit," Seb muttered. In his career as a sniper, he had twice before been forced to abandon a job when some lovestruck couple thought the roof would be the best place for a snog. Seb moved toward Alex, wrapping it close in preparation for a quick getaway.
The intruder's voice appeared suddenly in the frigid air.
"Don't make me hunt you, Tiger!"
Shit, Sebastian thought again. He wasn't in the mood to play Jim's crazy games. "Over here," he called. He figured if he could satisfy whatever it was that Jim required, the psychopath might leave him alone for a while.
In seconds, Jim's smiling face came around the air-duct that Sebastian had set up behind. "Hey, Sexy." The happy criminal skipped over to his crouching sniper and plopped down behind him. He pushed their backs together, each relying on the other for support.
Sebastian let him sit for a little while, but he was itching to get back to his private time. "Jim, is there something I can do for you?" he asked.
"How do you mean, Seb?"
"Well, you never come visit me while I'm working."
"Yeah, and I wouldn't have to if you would keep your fucking phone on." Sebastian didn't hear any anger. Just simple clarification. Sebastian took out his mobile. When he flipped it open, the screen warned him that he had missed twelve calls, nine voice messages, and forty-eight texts.
"Jesus Christ, Boss. How did you find the time to send all these texts and still leave messages?"
"Sebastian!" Jim bounced up suddenly. He began posing dramatically, as if caught in a Shakespearean soliloquy. "Thou shalt not take thy lord's name in vain! You know what the punishment for such blasphemy is!"
Sebastian had a suddenly very clear image in his mind of a time when he had been unable to keep the son of God's name off his lips (with a few other choice expletives) during an especially mind-blowing experience in Jim's bed. When he had retrieved his senses, he discovered an arrow buried about an inch between his ribs. If his hands hadn't been making friends with some silk rope and the bedposts, a good deal of punching would have occurred.
"Jim! Why the fuck is there an arrow in me?!"
"'Cause you're Saint Sebastian," came an extremely satisfied reply.
"What?!"
"Patron saint of soldiers."
"So fucking what?!"
"He was the one that got tied up and stuck with some arrows."
Looking back on it, Sebastian realized Jim had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to use the arrow he had stashed under the mattress. If Sebastian had kept quiet (but if anyone could get him wild, it was Jim), his demented employer would have found some other reason to stab him.
Seb was brought back to the rooftop by Jim stepping on the hand he was using to steady his crouch with his leather dress shoes. He pulled it away, hissing.
"What are you thinking about, darling?" Jim sang.
"Bugger off." Sebastian was flexing out his fingers. He rarely lost his temper with Jim, but his hands were of a fair importance to him.
"Rude," Jim grumbled. But the game was no fun if Sebastian was actually angry. He strolled lazily to the roof's door. "I'll be back, Sebbie. I'm not done here!" And then the door slammed.
Sebastian didn't doubt for a moment that Jim had more plans for him. But he was grateful for the amount of solitude being granted to him. He used the time to steady himself and brace for the undoubtedly tortuously long day ahead.
At noon, Jim came bursting onto the roof. "Sebastian!" he cried frantically. The sniper stood up, stubbed out his cigarette, and peered curiously around the vent.
"Boss?"
Jim caught sight of him ran in his direction. He threw his arms around Seb's sides. "Oh my gosh, Seb. I took a nap and I had a dream that you found some sexy girl and then you ran off with her and then I was forced to kill you and then I woke up and I was so sad!" Jim finished recounting this harrowing tale, but refused to relinquish his grasp around the assassin.
"I, er, it's okay," Sebastian tried.
"You'll never leave me. Right, Tiger?" Jim looked up at him with innocent eyes.
Sebastian had seen kicked puppies (most kicked by Jim) that looked less pathetic than his boss. "Never."
With this affirmation, Jim released his hold and his sad eyes became the devilish black-holes they usually were. "Just making sure. Because I'd really hate to kill you." Jim walked back over to the exit with his hands pushed into his pockets. Right before the metal door shut, Jim's head poke out again. "Just kidding. I think it'd be fun." Then he was gone.
Twenty minutes later, Sebastian was back at his scope. He figured there was a half-hour at least until his target would be in sight. He kept his eyes focused through the sight, ready to pull the trigger, just in case he had an early bird on his hands. He was so centered on his work, that he didn't realize he wasn't alone until a hand lay on his back.
Maybe Sebastian should have been nervous, but his brain processed the feeling quickly. Only one person could sneak up on him, even if he was preoccupied. Instead of the instinctual arm-breaking that the assassin would normally pursue, he simply looked up into his employer's eyes.
Jim was standing above him with a twisted grin. Really, twisted was the only way to describe Jim's smile. Reptilian, maybe. "Hey there," the psychopath said. Sebastian glared at him suspiciously before staring back through his scope. He heard Jim take up a place behind him. One of Jim's arms snaked loosely around Sebastian's neck while his other hand weaved through Seb's short blonde hair.
"Jim, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to cuddle," Sebastian quipped, though he was wary of Jim's closeness.
Jim slapped Sebastian's head lightly. "Good thing you know better, then. Now hush." His stance went back to a protective snuggle around Sebastian's shoulders. Now one of his hands was tracing Seb's jaw from his chin to his ear. "I think we need more time together, Sebbie," Jim commented, his voice low. "I make you work so much, and I barely ever get a chance to show you how grateful I am for that. You do everything I ask and you never get anything in return."
"Well there's the money. And the benefits. The cars, the apartment, my healthcare, the sex,–"
"Shut up, darling, I'm talking."
"Right, sorry."
"Anyway, I just want you to relax. Have some time off." Jim moved toward Sebastian's ear. "Have a little fun. Maybe with me?"
Sebastian was practically purring, but he kept his composure. It was rare for Jim to proposition him with so little force. The smaller man's hands were running across Sebastian's neck, along his jaw, to his ear. Jim could melt a man with that touch.
Suddenly Sebastian felt something cold against his ear lobe. He was about to react when he felt as though he had been bitten. Hard. He flailed, tossing Jim back a little. He felt up for his ear and was surprised to find something clinging there.
He stood up and spun around to see Jim trying to hold back a smile to match his confused eyes. "What's wrong, Sebastian?" It was supposed to sound worried and sincere, but there was an undeniable mocking tone.
"Do..." Sebastian searched for words. "Do I have an earring?" He felt his ear again. It was tender and there was definitely something sticking out of it. When he pulled his hand away, there was blood.
"Oh my!" Jim said with the worst surprised voice ever conjured. "It appears that you do. How rebellious of you!" He stood up and began walking away.
Sebastian grabbed Jim's arm, pulling him in close. "Why?" he growled.
"Because it looks nice," Jim growled back, though admittedly it wasn't quite as threatening. Jim pulled away and glared at the newly-pierced sniper. "Just be glad I wanted it in your ear."
Sebastian rolled his eyes as Jim left. The blood on his ear was drying and he could feel a little loop hanging from the lobe. Earrings had always been a little too fem in his mind. But, Jesus, if Jim wanted it, there was nothing Sebastian could do to stop him.
Finally one p.m. rolled around. Sebastian didn't really expect to be so lucky as to have his hit show up on time, but a man can always dream. The sooner he could finish the job, the sooner he could go disinfect the metal ring clipped into him.
When he heard the door creak open again, his exasperation mounted. By the time he looked up, Jim was standing near him.
Wearing a leather corset. And fishnets. And red pumps.
"Nope," Sebastian said, ignoring the man.
"Oh, come on," Jim moaned.
"No."
"But, Ti–"
"No."
"But this lipst–"
"Not interested."
"Ugh. You are absolutely no fun." And he clicked off, swaggering in the tall shoes.
Sebastian caught his first break of the day at two o'clock. A long-haired man carrying a blue knapsack shuffled out of the door in Sebastian's sight. Hesitation was unknown to the assassin and he couldn't help the relieved smile he grew as the man dropped. Even better were the screams that rose up from the first people to discover his demise. Music. Pure, beautiful music.
Sebastian grabbed his phone to report the completion of the job, shaking his head at the missed messages he was planning to delete. The phone barely rang once before being answered.
"Miss me already, Seb-baby?"
"Job's done, sir." There was a pause as Jim shifted into Mr. Professional Criminal mode.
"Job? What are you talking about Moran. Don't waste my time."
Sebastian rolled his eyes. Yeah, like he was such a big fucking inconvenience. "The Daniels job. Target was eliminated, sir."
"The Dan – Moran, I alerted you to abandon the hit this morning."
Sebastian quieted. "I'm sorry, Mr. Moriarty; What?"
"Your phone. I rang you this morning and left both voice and text messages stating explicitly that Daniels should be kept alive."
"I –"
"You should check your phone more often. If Daniels is dead, I'll have to reconfigure my plan."
"But I –"
"Is there something you need, Colonel? Because I have a lot of arrangements to make now. If you don't mind, I have to go."
"Er, of course, sir." The line went dead. Sebastian immediately went to his mobile's inbox, scrolling through his texts. Forty-three of them were whining pleas for attention ("Sebbie! LOVE ME. :'-(" "if u dont answer i will fill ur pillowcase w/ squirrels...SQUIRRELS Sebastian." "I'm ignoring you forever now. Bye." "CALL ME."), but scattered among them were texts clearly from his employer and not the obnoxious child known as Jim. Seb looked down at the formal texts in disbelief. Each one was a simple command to leave the roof.
The first was sent at 9:30 a.m.