Disclaimer: I don't own Vocaloid in any way, shape of form.

OH! And as a heads up, a few of the words are made up...so don't bother googling them...^^

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Admodia, The Eastern Republic of New Ethatrias

Poised on the roof of an old church, I wait for my client to pass by. It's cold out and it's not helping that I'm wearing a light jacket. According to the weather reports, it's 20 degrees routhers out. It's times like these that remind me that I absolutely hate the Dormant season. The cold air. The numbing wind. All the snow and the possibilities to get sick. I despise it.

I can see my breath in the air and my hair is starting to escape from its braid. Just how much longer do I have to wait anyways?

I start to think back on my client's characteristics. Male. 40 years of age. Five foot eight. Weighs 150 to 170 amthers. Black thinning hair. Ah... There he is. About time…..

Oh…he…he…has a family. Next to him is a wife that's a head shorter than him. From this distance, she looks young and pretty, as expected of a politician's wife. And between them is…a boy. A little boy, aged no more than five. Is he theirs? Probably.

With expert ease, I adjust and reposition my sniper gun. With my finger on the trigger, I wait for my client to step into view….Just a few steps away...

Their child swings in between them, feet dangling above the ground. There's a look of pure happiness on his face….

An old memory comes to the surface.

"Mama! Papa! Higher! Higher! I want to go higher. I want to touch the sky!"

A gentle giggle tinkles from my left. It's Mama. "Very well, my dear. Ready, honey?"

In unison, mama's gentle voice and papa's deep one chants, "Ready? One….Two….THREE!" My feet leave the ground. I am airborne. I –

NO.

Such thoughts are now unnecessary. A tiny foot swings into view. I refocus my eyes. My fingers twitch with an odd mixture of anticipation and hesitation. I wait a second too long. Quickly, before it's too late, I adjust my aim and complete what I must do.

Like usual, I can hear it, the sound of a single bullet against a human's skull. It makes a resounding crack that echoes into the street.

I start to move. Getting sighted is not part of the plan. It never is.

The clients hits the ground with a thud. My job is done. There is nothing left for me to do but to get the hell out of here.

Quietly, without a sound, I take apart my gun and slip the pieces into the bag nearby. And as I do, the wail of a widow rings. I must move faster. People will hear her and start flooding out onto the streets. I must reduce the risks by all costs.

And as I prepare to leap off the roof, I hear it. The sorrowful screams of a child. Under the noises of its mother. Under the bustle of the people crowding the streets. It rings, clearly, straight into my ears. It's an arrow to my heart. For a second, despite all of my training, I falter. Children have always been my weakness. They remind me too much of…NO.

Once again, such thoughts are unnecessary. I sigh. Children always make things more difficult than they need to be.

With practiced ease, I jump off the roof and disappear into the night.

The light shines through the dingy window in my small hole of an apartment. I groan and slip back under the covers, hoping to find relief in stolen moments of extra sleep.

...I can't. It remains elusive, always slipping past my fingertips, just like everything else...

And so, to my disappointment, it starts again.

As I lay back in my bed, I stare at the ceiling and wish for a better one. A prettier one. One that is smooth and even. One without holes and water stains. Gilded borders maybe. A beautiful mural if I'm up to it.

But a wish is only a wish. And sadly, wishes do not make up reality. It doesn't matter how much I wish and yearn. Like the ceiling above my head, some things will just never change.

Tomorrow, when I wake up, there it will be again. My ugly and uneven ceiling, full of holes and water stains. It's a cycle that will just never end….

But enough of that….instead, I think back to my meeting with Sir last night.

"Sir, tonight's job has been successful." Sir continues to look through his papers, not even bothering to look up at me.

Calmly, he asks, "Did anyone spot you?"

"No. No one spotted me at all."

Still engrossed in his papers, Sir doesn't bother to look up at me. The most he does is nod his head in approval.

"Very good Miku. That's my girl." He throws a small pile of money in my direction. Used to this type of interaction, I easily catch it without thinking. I weigh the bundle of bills in my hand. Once again, it's barely enough to pay for rent, food, clothes and ammunition and other daily fees. But that's nothing new. With a wave of his hands, he dismisses me. "Alright. You can go now. I'll call you for the next client."

My first instinct is to leave as quickly as possible. Being near Sir always gives me a disgusting feeling. But I stay strong and stay welded to my spot. Nervously, I ask, "Um….Sir?"

Exasperated, he finally looks up at me. There is a hideous scar that crawls down his face. Even now, it scares me. I advert my eyes from it. "If I may ask, how much more do I owe until my debt is cleared?"

It's silent for a long time. The seconds tick by tantalizingly slow. And Sir just stares at me with a face that's wiped clear of all emotion. Then, he speaks.

"Ah, Miku….Miku, Miku, Miku. Just how much do you think you owe me? It's not a small amount, let me tell you that much. Ever since Gakupo died, I took you in. I clothed you, I fed you and I continued to train you until you were old enough to survive on your own. Surely, you don't think I did all of that for free? Let me tell you something girlie. Nothing in this life is free. NOTHING. It's best that you remember that as soon as possible.

So just it through your thick head already.

You are MINE until I say you aren't. It's as simple as that, Miku. It's as simple of that.

Now come now. Shoo. I have work to do…"

Dejected, I quickly head towards the door. But before I leave, he reminds me. "And don't forget. I always charge interest!" He laughs, as if it was a joke.

But we both know it isn't...

Yes. Just like the ceiling never changes, so will my life. I can't break free. Therefore, it will start again.