He has been bored. Ever since coming back from Afghanistan, he has been bored all the fucking time. He couldn't find his own place in old foggy London, he missed the hot sun, scenery of war, the sound of flying bullets or bombs going off. He was aware that it wasn't normal, but London was just far too peaceful for him, it lacked the excitement of the hardships of survival in the middle of fight. It was just plainly boring.

Sebastian was a good soldier. He mostly listened to people above him, he worked hard, he wasn't slacking off and more than anything, he was an excellent shot, getting his soldiers an upper hand in many missions. He would hide in bushes or abandoned building, set his sniper gun and one by one take his aims down, without them realizing what's going on or where are the bullets coming from. Then the regular soldiers would storm in and finish the job. Yes, he was a good and valuable soldier indeed, but he had some deviations of his own, he liked to take care of his own stuff on the side and some people didn't like it and grew tired of averting their gazes from it. And so despite being such a useful gunman to the army, he was sent back to his country. As a reward for a mainly good service, they spared him the shame of dishonorable discharge, but still he knew that it was exactly it. Well, after all they called him to the office and listed all his misdoings for him. He didn't pay much attention, he didn't care that much then. He thought that he'll get good money anyway, so he'll be able to make a proper living in London. But he didn't take into account how much will he miss the war. And so here he was, discharged with honors (only on paper), with enough money to get a small flat (he though he'd get more, he was disappointed) and with no purpose to his life.

His days mostly consisted of walking around the streets, drinking, getting into fights, drinking, pick-pocketing for fun and some more drinking. He was a mess and he was well aware of it. He even tried getting a proper job, it wasn't really that difficult, he graduated from Oxford after all, but it totally wasn't for him. He needed some adrenaline, he needed it so badly, he felt like a junkie denied the access to his drugs and yet he had no idea what to do about it. He felt like a ticking bomb just waiting to go off and he was a little bit scared that one day he will just lose it, take his gun (always in excellent condition, cleaned and checked regularly – Sebastian loved his guns above everything), find himself a nice spot with the view of a crowded street and randomly start shooting people chosen on a whim. And then when the police will barge in, he will just finish himself off to escape the boredom of a life-long stay in prison. It was as much appealing to him as scary. After all he still clung to his life, silently hoping for something to happen. A little war to take part in would be nice. And lots of guns, please. And explosions and dead bodies.

He had no idea, that what he hoped for, would come to him so fast. Maybe it wasn't the kind of war he had in mind – one with the military troops of an adversary country – but actually it ended up being far better, more thrilling and liberating than it. The day when it all started or more like sucked him into a crazy whirl of not so sane ideas of a certain well-known criminal, has been just the same as every other day since he arrived back in the Queen and tea-loving country of England.

He got up around the noon, stinking of cigs and alcohol and with a massive headache, reminding him of last night's drinking. He didn't really remember how he got home, but he couldn't care less. He was only a little disappointed that he turned out to be alone in his bed. He was probably to drunk to find any nice company. He got up with care, trying not to move his head too much and slowly walked to the kitchen. He fetched some water and headache medicine, gulped everything down and moved to bathroom to take a shower. When he glimpsed at himself in a mirror, he looked like a big dirty mess, no wonder he couldn't pick anyone up last night… When he got off the shower, he looked like a big clean mess, not that much of a difference really. His eyeballs were blood-shot, he had a four or five days stumble on his chin, dark circles below his eyes, hollow cheeks and his blond messy hair has grown far too long and was blocking his vision. He took it of his eyes and with a miserable sigh started to shave.

After making himself as presentable as possible, he came back to the kitchen to fight with his headache over a cup of hot morning coffee. Actually there was no point in making himself look presentable, cause he was going to get himself wasted this night too, but maybe at least he won't come home alone this time. He didn't consider himself very handsome, but he thought of himself as attractive, not to boast or anything, but when he tried, he always could find a pretty girl to accompany him. He was fond of his blond hair, he thought it looked good on him, also he had light blue eyes, he was tall and well-build. Well, maybe he got a little bit flabby recently, but that's what excessive drinking and smoking and no exercise does to oneself. If he only had any motivation…

But with all his motivation gone or maybe dead or squirming in some black deep hole, instead of going jogging or doing some exercises, he simply got up and reached for his gun-case. Holding guns always made him happy. The weight of cold metal in his hand, the power over one's life that comes with it – it was totally exhilarating. But he couldn't get a real taste of this power nowadays, so he just proceeded to clean it and then even went as far as setting it by the window and taking an aim on his neighbors one by one, such an easy prey without any knowledge of the hunter on their tracks… It would be like shooting down less dangerous animals for fun. But he was well aware that he could not pull the trigger and that made him fucking frustrated. One day he's really going to snap and just do it. Though he'd prefer a better enemy, someone who could bite back, someone who could try to outwit him, to attack instead of giving in. He thought of the tiger he once fought with in Afghanistan. It was sort of a bet with the local men. They knew there was tiger nearby cause their stock kept going missing, two or three persons' dead corpses were found too and the footprints and the leftovers left no wonder as to the offender's identity. And so he said, he'd find it and he'd take it down for money. They bid him a final goodbye, being sure he will never come back alive, but indeed he did and he brought the tiger back with him. The fight was very well-balanced, thrilling and dangerous. He has gotten into a direct fight and even though his knife tore the beast's heart to pieces at last, its claws still managed to leave him a big scar on his chest and a smaller one on his face. But what an excitement it was! Remembering the image of the beast's eyes still gave him goose-bumps all over his body. Oh, those were good times…

Sebastian has realized that he was spacing off, so he carefully put his gun back into the case and flopped himself on a cheap and uncomfortable couch (the first one he found acceptable, but later he regretted he didn't look for it a little more to get something more comfy). It was the shitty telly time. He jumped through the channels and in the end he set on a detective movie, but the hero did too many impossible things and the main villain was too dumb and obvious so after a while he just threw the remote at the screen, stood up, grabbed his jacket and went out to get some fresh air.

It was autumn and it was starting getting chilly. The sun was far too bright for Sebastian's eyes but the cold wind was refreshing. It was already past the afternoon so he decided to head towards his favourite pub. He gave a nod to familiar barkeeper and asked for a simple beer. Shortly after followed the second and the third one. It was already dark outside and the pub filled with cheery people, drinking, talking, flirting, singing. Sebastian wondered over his forth beer how these people can be so happy, when the life itself was so mundane and unappealing. Suddenly he spotted a pretty girl in a black dress by the counter – she had nice long hair and even nicer long legs. Quite a good catch. He decided to sit next to her and try his luck.

- Hi, pretty. Why do you sit here alone? – he asked for starters and motioned to the bartender to get something for her.

- Actually I'm not alone, my boyfriend just wandered off for a second. – She answered off-handedly, but her body language said that she was clearly interested in Sebastian. She looked him over and scooted a little closer. – Martini, please. – she added, when she spotted the barkeeper looking at her and waiting for her order.

She sipped her drink slowly and they started talking. She indeed came with her boyfriend here, but he unexpectedly got some stuff to do so he had to leave her for a while. A girl disappointed with her boyfriend's sudden disappearance from the date… Well, it was a good advantage just asking to be taken. They talked about little nothings; about Sebastian's facial scar (the man-eating tiger story always gets all the girls hooked), about her ass-stupid boss and job and so on. He was already sure that he's lucky tonight and that he's taking her home, when suddenly someone tapped him on his shoulder.

- Oi, fuck off from my girl, who do you think you are? – came a slur from behind him.

Sebastian looked around and saw a tall, not really handsome guy with a cut lip. The girl seemed scared and concerned for her boyfriend, she was about to start explaining the situation, but it's not like Seb was going to give up now.

- We just spend some nice time here when you were away on your "business" and I'm terribly afraid that it'll be you who has to fuck off, cause I'm not leaving this lovely girl. – A little pub courtesy is always welcomed, isn't it?

But the answer to it was a fist flying to his left cheek. He swiftly dodged and threw a punch to his nose. The guy's face got all bloody, but it didn't seem to scare him off and so they continued lying punches on each other and they ended up in the back alley behind the pub. There were quite a few people who followed them outside to cheer. Sebastian got a bruise or two and that guy was still bleeding properly from his nose and now cut brow. Suddenly a knife appeared between them.

- Who the fuck do you think you are, motherfucker, hitting on my girl like that?! – he was now swinging the knife in front of Seb's face. – Maybe I should get ya another scar, huh?! Would it teach you a fucking lesson to stay away from McCurty?!

Sebastian has never heard about any McCurty and he couldn't care less at the moment. He was in his element again. That guy wasn't much of a threat, but he could feel the excitement and the thrill from the possible danger and for a second it felt like a freedom to him. Well aware of his own skills, he knocked the knife off of his enemy's grip, with a fast turn he picked it up and cut slightly across McCurty's upper arm and chest. It wasn't a deep cut, but that guy shrieked like a girl and run off while screaming some undistinguishable obscenities at Seb. Sebastian was disappointed, he wanted to play some more, but instead of that, that McCurty wuss was already far away, the little crowd of spectators around him was cheering for the winner and there was a distant sound of police sirens approaching. Well, it's time to disappear into thin air, Seb decided. He took a quick look into the pub to check for the girl, but she was gone as well, same with his unfinished beer. Even more disappointed, he exited through the front door and went straight to his place, trying to hide his face and proceed unnoticed as much as possible. Police's attention was far too troublesome.

When he got to his flat a sudden sadness took over him. He got himself a fight and he felt very lucky for it, but the girl was gone and he didn't even get drunk. Just… not the way he had imagined this night. He hated it when something goes not according to his plan. Blah. Angry with the world, he went to sleep early and dreamed of hot Afghan sun and finding a trail of a dangerous wild cat.

He was awakened by the morning sunlight. Damn, he forgot to close the blinds. Growling, he got up and as he was checking the contents of his fridge after the morning shower (or rather the lack of thereof), he decided to eat out. He didn't feel like going shopping nor cooking right now, the sour mood from the day before still hanging around him.

He went to a small place near his flat, he had heard some good opinions about it. It was promising with its light-colored interior and a nice smell, so looking through the menu, he settled for eggs over the bacon. As the waitress took his order, he couldn't help looking after her really short uniform skirt.

- Quite a sight, isn't it?

A voice with unidentifiable accent and a strange sing-song tone to it was heard to his right. He spared the man next to him a glance, not really interested in having any company right at this moment. He just wanted to eat his breakfast in peace. It was a dark-haired guy, smaller than him and dressed in a fancy, expensive-looking suit. Who the hell wears a suit to a place like that? The smaller guy smiled at him, but the smile never reached his eyes, they remained strangely cold. There was something really sly and foxy about him. He had this unpleasant aura. Sebastian decided to ignore him and instead he concentrated on studying the people passing the streets on the other side of the window.

- Not so talkative today, huh? Seems like yesterday you had more to say and not only on the peaceful level. – The sing-song voice was heard again.

Sebastian tensed. What the fuck did the guy want, how did he even know about yesterday's fight, was he sent by that jealous wuss or what? The situation was just strange and the manner of speaking the smaller man used was unnerving. He looked at him again but still remained quiet.

- Oh, you're wondering how do I know about it and what do I want. Actually, you see, Michael McCurty was one of my clients and he came oh so crying to me yesterday, telling me about a big evil guy. – Sebastian's brow went up at the word "was". – Don't be so surprised, he paid well, but he was so annoying that I thought that making him into a jacket would serve him better than freely walking around the city. Anyway, I was hoping to ask you of something and I even decided to do it myself, cause I was just across the street and the breakfast seemed like a nice idea.

Sebastian wanted to say something, but the waitress chose this moment to bring the food. The strange fellow must have made his order before going over to Seb, cause few sandwiches for him were also brought. Seb felt lost with the man sitting next to him – he didn't know what to think of what he said. A client? Making him into a jacket? Well, that must have been a joke for sure. Something to ask? What could he possibly ask Sebastian, he saw that McCurty bloke for less than an hour, it's a miracle that he still remembers his name. Bewildered, he set for a simple "Who the hell are you?".

- You don't really need to know my name now. Let's just say that McCurty came to me for an advice with his, oh, "business", but he wasn't too lucky and convincing and now you may possess an information I'm interested in. But on the other hand I know a lot about you, colonel Sebastian Moran. You're an ex-military soldier, you were on a mission in Afghanistan for quite a long time. You're well skilled both with guns and knives, you also know how to fight bare-handed. You miss the war and enjoy violent surroundings. You live alone of military wages is a small dump on Conduit Street, you're a heavy-drinker and smoker and you really should do something about that bruise on your left cheek, it looks nasty. Your hair's in bad condition as well. – He said, wincing.

- What the fuck?! – was everything surprised Sebastian could get out of himself. He watched the other guy nibbling at his sandwiches, trying to make sense of the situation. – How the fuck do you know all that stuff about me, you little…?

- Language, my dear! – again the annoying sing-song tone. – You yourself tell me most of this, you're actually like an open book. Not to forget that I was keeping an eye on you for quite a while already. I could say more, but perhaps you don't want to listen to it. Now – he put his sandwich down – back to business. Do you remember well the knife McCurty had with him yesterday? – Sebastian nodded his head, he pays attention to such things. – Then could you maybe tell me if it had golden "PoDC" written on it? – A nod again, he remembered seeing these letters, though he had no idea what do they mean. – That's just marvelous! Seems like the jacket will be soon joined by a nice tie. And now, the other business, an idea which made me look into you in the first place after I have heard of your dishonorable discharge…

- Oi, it wasn't dishonorable…!

- We both know quite well that it was. Back to the topic - you'd enjoy a little thrill and some blood, dead corpses and maybe some guns on an everyday basis, right?

Who the hell was this guy and what was going on? Sebastian still couldn't pin-point it, but at the mention of guns, he became interested despite himself.

- Are you offering me something or…?

- 'Cause you see, I just lost a valuable man recently, quite a nasty little accident I tell you, I misplaced my fork in his head, you see… - Sebastian stopped wondering about that guy, the whole conversation was just too weird and kind of surreal. – Anyway now I have an open spot for a gunman and you look like a capable man and a soldier's discipline is always a nice addition. I think you'd really love this job.

- A gunman? And what do you expect me to do…? – Sebastian asked warily. One thing he knew for sure – this whole business was illegal as hell and he had to admit he liked the idea of it.

- In my line of career sometimes there are people to be taken care of and I do like my hands clean, blood and dirt under nails are hard to get rid off and getting a new manicure so often is troublesome… I'm a brain and I need capable hands to hold a gun for me. I do pay well, but I don't tolerate insubordination. In fact I don't tolerate "no" as an answer to any of my requests. – And here goes Sebastian's choice. Somehow he got a feeling that this guy was no joke and that he could also use a long-term visit to mental hospital. - I think you would much enjoy shooting an actual living creature once in a while, cause isn't the feeling just great? How do you feel about your new job? You're taking it, am I right?

The black-haired guy smiled sweetly at him, but that smile was totally sickening. Still, what choice did Sebastian have? And to tell the truth he felt really intrigued. At last something's happening. Suddenly he felt light-headed and he wondered if he's just dreaming it all. But everything around him, apart from that guy, seemed a little too real to be just a dream. He was still going over everything in his head, but his body betrayed him and decided on its own account as, dumbfounded, he nodded his head again.

- That's just lovely! – said happily the smaller man – You're starting now, colonel Moran, oh, and by the way my name might come in handy now, so again, it's nice to meet you, colonel, and my name is James Moriarty, but I have a feeling that it will be better for you to just call me "Boss" or "Sir" if you value your various more or less useful body parts. – Again that sickeningly sweet smile.

James fucking Moriarty. He has heard of this motherfucker. Great, he's totally fucked. Probably he's not going to make it till the next week. Oh, but who fucking cares anyway. At least he's going to have fun while he's still alive.