Ok, here's my first attempt to write a fiction. You can judge me as much as you want!

It's a story based on the 2010 movie Wild Target. This is only a short appetizer.

If I decide to continue it will be more original.

Thank you my amazing friend Ally (LotusTattoo) for help. I love you girl!

And no, I don't own Glee or Wild Target or anything else.

"Are you Dustin Goolsby?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

"My name is Sam Evans. I'm a professional assassin and I am here to kill you."

Before Dustin could say anything, a bullet went straight through his head. That's how Sam did it. Quickly, easily, with no pointless conversations. He has never felt sorry for any of his victims. It was a job and nothing more. No feelings involved. Besides, his father had been in business for over thirty years, therefore Sam was used to basically anything. He taught him not to bond with anybody, especially not his victims.

After he was done, Sam took care of cleaning the place, although there wasn't much to clean, after all those years he knew how to kill without an extra mess. When he was about to leave, he noticed a cage next the window with a beautiful parrot in it. He was thinking about killing the bird too at first but it was staring at him with such lovely eyes, so he decided to keep it and give it to his mother for her birthday. He had no problems with killing people but he adored animals of all kinds.

"You won't miss the bird anymore, will you?" he asked Dustin's body, grabbed the cage and left.

"Good morning, mother. How are you?"

"I'm feeling well today, Samuel. How are you? Here's your tea, drink it while it is still warm. What is that thing in your hand, by the way?"

Sam quickly looked at the cage that was hidden under the piece of fabric now and smiled at his mother. "It's a surprise for you. Happy birthday, mom!" and he took of the fabric off so his mother could see the gift he brought her.

She shot a long glance at it but then she said: "A parrot? Are you giving me a parrot? You know what would make me happier? Grandchildren!"

Sam sighed and put the cage with the parrot on the table. "Mother, we have had this conversation a hundred times. I'm focused on my career now, children can wait. And I don't have anybody who would give them to me, anyway."

"Your father was a first class assassin and he managed to have a kid while working his ass off. You're just as good as he was, Samuel. Maybe if you just tried a little…"

"Oh my God, mother. Ugh, could you just…..nevermind" Sam said with annoyed expression on his face. Then he finished the tea she made him, stood up, told his mother goodbye and left. His mother was an expert at making him feel miserable. All of his visits always ended like this one. That was also one of the reasons he moved out as soon as he turned eighteen.

"It's so….beautiful." Noah Puckerman couldn't take his eyes of the painting that was lying in front of him. It was perfect. He loved art and Rembrandt was his all time favorite. He shot a smile at Mercedes Jones who was standing next to him and then took his briefcase so he could show her the content.

"800,000 dollars."

"We agreed on nine."

"What? No, we agreed on eight."

"Nine."

"Eight."

"Nine!"

"Eight!"

"Nine or I'm keeping it!"

"This is ridiculous!"

"Fine, I'm keeping it."

"Ok, ok, nine."

Mercedes took the painting and was about to put it back in the case.

"What are you doing? I said I'd give you nine. Put it back."

"One million."

He wasn't sure if she was being serious. Nobody has ever dared to negotiate with him. Nobody. "Oh, my dear, you don't wanna play with me." He took out his gun and pointed it at her.

Mercedes started to shake. Then she awkwardly laughed "Haha, I was just joking, here it is. Please. I'll take nine hundred thousand dollars."

Noah Puckerman smiled briefly and put the gun away. "That's what I thought."

They both shook hands and then Mercedes took the briefcase with the money and left. "It was nice to meet you!" Noah called after her.

Soon after, she was driving in her bright yellow convertible, listening to her favorite music and laughing so hard it hurt. She decided to call the good news to Rory Flanagan, the man who made the painting.

"Rory! My lovely friend, we made it. That idiot bought it for 900! Can you believe that? Oh my God! I can't even breath right now!... You did such a great job, he has no idea it's a fake, no idea whatsoever!"

"Look at it, so beautiful. Rembrandt has always been my favorite. Those colors, wonderful." Noah Puckerman said to himself as he touched the painting with his index finger to study it more properly. When he looked at his finger few seconds later, he couldn't believe his eyes. The paint wasn't completely dried. What the hell did that mean? Did he just buy a fake painting for 900.000 dollars?

Sam answered his phone. "Yes?"

"You have a new client."

Soooo, did you hate it?