His breathing was calm and relaxed; heartbeat slow and steady. The metal beams beneath his feet groaned slightly in protest to his weight, and in the mere fraction of a second, he was readjusting himself before the sound could reach anyone's ears but his own.

After checking the placement of his feet and taking another slow, cautious step forward, amber eyes flitted down towards the target, locking in place. Jean was the cat, and he was the mouse; unsuspecting and completely oblivious to the imminent danger looming just overhead.

The short, balding man was whistling cheerfully, and rather loudly, to himself, unknowingly providing extra cover for Jean if he were to slip up. Which he wouldn't. He never did.

He allowed himself a quick, dark smirk before sidling his way around a pipe jutting its way in-between the support beams beneath his boots, wrapping his glove-clad fingers tightly against the slick metal and pushing himself around to the other side.

As he continued on, feet arched and hands gripping the beams below, holding himself in place as he crawled forward, the man reached his car at last, bending forward after popping the trunk to dig around, leaving himself, and his back, completely exposed.

Now.

He slipped from the beams without a sound, landing softly on the soles of his feet and crouching as he came into contact with the cold asphalt below. After removing the knife that he had balanced in between his narrow lips and rising to stand, his expression became ominous as he began to move, intent on his prey.

His steps were inaudible as he approached, remaining undetected by the man who continued to sift through the confines of the trunk, for something which would cease to hold any relevance in a matter of seconds.

He stopped a foot away from the stout man, twirling the thin stiletto between his slender fingers, eyes pinpointing the exposed skin on the back of his neck.

As he straightened up, holding in front of him what appeared to be a black, wool coat, Jean snapped into motion; navigating his hand around the man's broad shoulder, he rapidly snapped his head to the side, using his other to bring the knife around and quickly, and effectively, slash it across the skin of his throat in one swift movement. He hadn't even had time to gasp.

He emitted what sounded like a gurgled cry, before becoming dead weight against Jean, arms falling limply to his sides and the coat fluttering, forgotten, back into the trunk. The blood, flowing freely down the front of the man's dark business suit, splattered against the asphalt below in one sickening gush, and Jean crinkled his nose before gingerly shifting his weight to let the man fall into the trunk of his car with a 'thunk'.

As he stood back, tucking the dagger back into its sheath beneath his shirt, he raked his eyes over the grisly scene before him; the ground was pooling with blood, glistening in the dim, occasionally flickering lights overhead. A trail of the fluid lead up the tail end of the car, and to the corpse that was spilling it, which was dangling precariously out of the trunk. It's limbs were sprawled messily, knees buckled together. There was no dignity in this death.

Sighing, he let his eyes slide closed, his expression somber as he turned away, starting for the exit. "Je suis désolé, s'il vous plaît pardonnez-moi."

He'd done this a thousand times before, and this man was no more than another lifeless corpse being tossed along the sidelines of Jean's too-long, blood-soaked path, that single, horrendous mole being the only trait differentiating him from all of his other faceless victims.

Balancing a cigarette in between his lips, he pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jacket, scrolling until he found the name he was looking for.

It rang twice.

"It's done." He said around the filter, bringing a lighter up and flicking it, letting the flames lick the end.

"Good."

The call dropped then, and Jean tossed the phone back into its respective place, taking a drag as he stepped out of the parking garage and onto the empty sidewalk.

White clouds of vapor were stolen from his lips as his warm breath met the frigid air. The heavy wind, which mercilessly ripped through the city, bit at the exposed skin of his face and neck, leaving it stingingly cold.

Ducking his head further down past the upturned collar of his jacket, he continued on, taking one last hit of his cigarette before flicking it to the side.

It was time to go home.


Notes:

WIP. I thought I'd just go ahead post the beginning of it.
I've actually taken care to plan out the plot to this ehe
hope you enjoyed!

Translations:

Je suis désolé, s'il vous plaît pardonnez-moi :: I'm sorry, please forgive me.