The blood was pouring out on to the floor. Dripping down the blade he held in his hand. The light had left the man's eyes a while ago but he stood there watching over as the puddle of blood grew bigger every second. He should clean this place up before someone came, before the sun came up, before he got caught. But it had always fascinated him: how easy it was to play God. To decide who lived and who died. Of course he didn't make those decisions but he fulfilled the wishes of those who did. He got paid to get rid of people and he enjoyed it. Although maybe that's not the right word. It didn't make him happiness or joyfulness but it gave him meaning. Something he had searched his entire life to find. He didn't enjoy it. He lived on it.
The blood was nearing his feet and it broke him out of his admiration of life and death and how easy it was to change which side of the coin someone were standing on.
He stripped his suit jacket off leaving himself in a simple white button up. He rolled the sleeves up and out of the way as he began the routine clean up after a job. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and began washing the blood off the blade that began to feel heavy in his hand. The crimson colour blending with the clear water becoming pink as it swirled down the drain along with the fingerprints he had left there.
His next task was the body. He pulled two industrial black bags from his suit jacket pocket. He hadn't touched the man other than when he plunged the knife into his chest. He preferred knives. They were messy and took a lot of cleaning but this way you could watch the light dying in their eyes as they grew closer to the brink: as they changed sides of the coin. He wrapped the body up and carried it out to the trunk of his car. The motel they were in was dingy and badly lit. There was no security cameras and the room belonged to the man that was now dead so he had no risk of ever being associated with them man's untimely demise.
After placing the man's body in the trunk he cleaned up all the blood. He bleached the drains and everything he touched in the room. He took another black bag from his pocket and binned everything he used to clean the place down and anything that had blood on it.
He walked back out the motel room and headed to the car he placed the black bag in the boot of the car with the body and began to drive towards the woods on the far side of the town. He dug a grave and threw the body in along with the black bag full of cleaning equipment and blood stained materials. He poured gasoline; he always kept in the boot of the car, all over the evidence and then set it all alight with a match.
He watched as the fire danced over the evidence and burned everything until it was ash. He then filled in the hole and got back into his car and drove to his apartment.
He took out his phone and found the contact he was looking for. The phone rang three times before the call was answered. He waited until the other voice spoke:
"Is it done?" The voice on the other end asked.
"Yes. The job is done." He replied.
"Meet me at Speedy's in the morning at ten o'clock for the rest of you payment. I may even have a new job for you." The voice said.
He hung up the phone, went for a shower and was in bed within half an hour. He fell asleep instantly.
SPN
He arrived at Speedy's at ten o'clock exactly and found his client sat down in a booth at the far corner of the restaurant. He walked over and sat down opposite, taking note of the briefcase under the table.
"It's good to see you again Mr. Winchester." The man said.
"You said you have another job for me as well as my payment." He replied heading straight for the subject of interest.
"Of course." The man said as he slid the briefcase up and onto the table.
He opened it and slid an envelope out before twisting the case around to show the rest of the payment. He nodded at the man to continue after checking the money and sliding the brief case down on to the space next to him.
"Your next target is someone of more importance. I want him dead and I want him out of my way by the end of the week. So Mr. Winchester can you do this for me."
"Well that depends." He replied.
"On what exactly?"
"Who this man is and how much importance is he to you." He replied growing bored.
"He's my brother." The man said after a pause. "Can you do it?" He finished.
"It will cost more." He said.
"Why?"
"For one you have given me 3 days to complete this task and two he is a member of your family. You should remember from our contract that family members cost more."
"Very well, how much this time?" The man asked, annoyance laced in his tone.
"Double." He said simply.
"Double?"
"Yes. If you can't make that amount I assume our business is done." He said and went to stand up but was stopped.
"Fine. I will pay you double if he is dead by the end of the week." The man said forcing the envelope that had been inside the briefcase on to the table in front of his business partner.
The man then rose and left. He tried not to smile at the back of the man walking away from him but he couldn't quite restrain himself. Some people were so easily riled up and Michael Novak was definitely one of them. He was also arrogant, short sighted and had more money than sense.
It surprised him when Michael said he wanted him to kill his brother but he didn't protest, money was money and his job was interesting. Why turn that away?
He opened the envelope and took out a small file. It read Lucifer Novak. He rolled his eyes, Michael and Lucifer? What kind of parent calls their child Lucifer when they have an older child called Michael. He opened up the file and found picture of the man he was going to kill. His eyes were a frosty blue colour that screamed intelligence. His blonde hair was short and sticking up in different directions and he felt the sudden urge to run his fingers through the locks to see if they were as soft as they looked. That thought shocked him and he tried to ignore it.
He had been attracted to people before but they never did anything for him. He could look at men and women and admire their beauty but he never felt the urge to touch. To feel. To get close. If this was only a photo he could only imagine the effect the man would have up close. He wondered if when he stabbed the man with the knife it would feel any different. Look any different. Be any different. It shouldn't really, it's just another man but he couldn't help himself from wondering.
He read the rest of the file and memorised its contents. According to the file Lucifer had a healthy sex life and had a new partner almost every week. That would be his way in, to get close. He knew he was fairly good looking and his body was at peak physical condition. Lucifer was also a few years younger than Michael, at 28 years old. A year older than himself.
He shut the file and picked up the brief case and left the restaurant. He had three days and that meant he would need to plan tonight and start his job in the morning.
