The assassin held the blade. The tip quivered as his hand shook. This is ridiculous! Loads of people have done it but it still was hard to will it to happen. Fear screamed ant him to stop and run for the hills but he had to do it. It was his only option.
Demetri had only recently joined the guild, he hadn't expected to get into this so quickly. "get a nice job at a respectable guild" his mother had said, she clearly hadn't been wired up right because in most places in the known mulitverse, murder isn't generally considered 'nice' but it was a job and well paid too so people tend to ignore things like that.
He was a tall elegant boy of 17, suiting the customary black uniform of the guild, although at this point there were patches of persperation that detracted from the menace of it all but added a lovely comic touch that you don't really get with most hired killers.
A trickle of sweat ran down his nose and his breathing became shallow. How could something so simple take so much willpower? This was all in his head, just do it!
A decision was made.
His arm pulled down sharply as if he didn't do it now he never would. There was a flash of red. He raised the blade again and came in from a different angle. Now there was a steely determination in each movement. His tongue jutted from his lips. People did say he had a face to be a fool. It is true that both do have a precise science to them but its just not the same status symbol at the old mothers club to say that your son is a fool. Lets face it who would give up a chance to study at the best school in Ankh-morpork even with double stabbing on a Monday morning.
He repeated this several times and the job was done. He leant back and wiped his brow, phew. That was quite complex. Serveying his deed he smiled evilly (out of habit).
What lay in front of him was a crudely drawn sugarpaper red heart: edges, scruffy and unsymmetrical. He was proud, the best he could have expected. There was something piteously sweet about it that he thought she would find attractive. He knew how to gut a man in two seconds but somehow cutting a simple shape out of paper was beyond him.
He exchanged the pair of scissors for a pencil and began to write his message.
-x-
Demetri's prospective valentine sat on the window ledge of the topmost floor of the post office, ignorant of the craft based catastrophe that was occurring across town in the little flat. She dangled her legs over the edge and kicked out from time to time.
It was a lovely view of the twin city. The sprawling infested Morpork and the organised decadent Ankh. Dusk was falling and the light of the disc was slowing in the magic field, it was doing things that normal light wouldn't dream of. There were lit rooms that sparkled in the growing dark.
The air was clear, well as clear as it got being so close to the nose insulting river. It was humid but a gentle wind was blowing through the streets and it whipped the girls short hair around her head.
Her eyes were focused on the street below after all that was what she was being paid for.
She straightened as there was a small knock on the glass behind her. It slid down and a mans face appeared.
"Do you want anything to eat, Olly?" the postmaster enquired, giving a dazzling smile. She just shook her head and gripped the ledge tighter, eyes still fixed on the entrance.
Moist Von Lipwig pulled the window back down and went back to postal duties (well being enthusing his employees, his gift). He thought the young girl had been very quiet since she had stopped the last assassin and became his bodyguard. That man would be taking his meals through a straw for a while. He still hadn't worked her out yet, that was a problem, atleast for a ex-conman. It would just take a bit more time is all.
He smiled to himself but the idea that there was a warrant on his life was a worry that wouldn't go away.
As he left the room he took one last look at the crouched figure on the other side of the glass and knew that no one would get even close.