Author's Note: I don't really remember when I came up with this. I was looking at my documents when I found this, and decided to put it up. Hope you enjoy it.
Being an asassin in Scorpia meant he'd seen a lot of death. Being a sniper meant he'd seen death up close, the scope on his rifle magnifying his target, showing him in sharp clarity their last moments. It was interesting to see all the different reactions - Pain, incredulity, anger, shock, depression. He had even shot a man that died laughing. The Scorpia operative thought he had seen them all, until he was assigned to shoot a spy only fourteen years old.
He had no qualms at the time, the boy just being another nameless target that had to die. It was only after a few days that the assassin had been woken up by haunted brown eyes too old for the boy's face. The Scorpia operative thought he had seen it all until he'd shot that boy. The utter resignation and acceptance had twinged the heart he'd thought was frozen.
Brown eyes that blearily looked at the sniper's nest then glanced listlessly back at the blood gushing down his chest follow him, juxtaposed over everything he does. He sees the shoulders that had slumped in defeat before crumpling and hitting the sidewalk whenever he closes his eyes.
He thought he'd seen the worst of the world until he'd gunned down a teenager in broad daylight, and nobody tried to help, while the boy glared only half-consciously at his killer's hideout. Eyes that old didn't belong in a child so young, and no child should have accepted death that easily as he did, like an old friend brought in from the cold. That fact that he did chilled the Scorpia operative to the bone.