WARNING: HEAVY SMUT IN LATER CHAPTERS. VIOLENCE. BLOOD. AND LOT'S AND LOT's OF NAUGHTY WORDS.
Disclaimer: Uuum? I don't own shit! is this really nessesary? It is FAN FICTION .net after all - 3-
This was inspired by an RP done with the lovely and talented BurntScones, on Deviantart.
Sending my love darling~ 3
No hesitation. Do not flinch. Do not turn away. And never, NEVER lose sight of your target. He repeated these words many times to himself, over and over it ran through his head as he level the gun. His target was standing on a busy street not far from where he was perched. Should be easy enough. All he had to do was wait for him to slow down, to pause, so he could get a good clear head shot.
His target, whose name he did not know, was a young American boy. Apparently he was visiting on business over seas. Feliciano wasn't sure why the eyebrowed man wanted this man dead, but it didn't matter. A job was a job, whether he wanted to take it or not wasn't entirely up to him. He needed to eat, to stay alive. It was a dog eat dog word in this day and age and he was not about to become pray to society.
Those who called him weak, those who tried to step over him in the food chain, THOSE people were the first to fall. It was foolish of them to underestimate him.
Ah! There, he was moving towards a vendor to order some kind of food. Feliciano adjusted his position, taking aim. But at the last minute his arm jerked back. Fuck! That shadow! He'd been so focused that he'd missed the shadow moving closer. His target was now lying on the ground, bleeding out as the towns foe panicked and ran in fear.
He swore loudly, nearly throwing his gun in anger, "Fuck! mother fucking shit I HAD him uuurg and that man got him! fuck fuck fuck!" he clenched his teeth and took a deep breath, glare hardening as he calmed.
His fist flew to the cross around his neck, grasping it tightly he muttered a prayer and crossed himself several times. Swearing, swearing to god he'd get that man. He'd taken his ONLY target! That wasn't going to cut it, he needed this one.
He grabbed his gun and disassembled it, shoving the pieces roughly into his back pack. The building he was standing in was deserted, but the fire escapes were thankfully safe enough to climb. Slithering his way down the ladder, cloak trailing behind him like wings, he took off into the direction he had seen the man flee.
He'd pay for this, he'd pay dearly.
POV CHANGE
It was all too easy, weaving his way through the crowded streets. He was agile and quick, eyes constantly trained on the prize. Which was standing not that far away. He pulled out a switch blade, careful to keep it hidden beneath his cloak as he approached.
The man was completely unaware. There were no signs of nervousness. No looking over his shoulders or shifty eyes. Poor bastard must not know he had a hit out on him at all, wouldn't know what hit him.
The shadow moved closer, going in for the final kill. It was all very quick, he stepped up behind the man, close enough to smell his strong cologne and see the rough cowlick sticking up from the top of his head. Close enough, that when his knife stabbed through his abdomen and back several times, it simply looked like he'd bumped into him.
Blood flowed over his palm, seeping from the wounds in a torrent of dark red. He pulled away quickly, turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd before the first scream was even heard.
He smirked, listening to the sounds of hysteria as he fled. Another job well done he thought. Unaware that this job wasn't over quite yet. The tables would be turned as he became the hunted. And he'd have to fight for his keep.
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A/N: Spell checked and grammer checked! WOOT!
