Sorry, this took so long! I've been super busy with school!

Anyway...funny story: My new socks almost killed me! My house is all hardwood, including my steps, and when I was coming down wearing brand new, shiny white socks, I slipped off the edge of one of the steps and almost fell and died! O.O

Sure..I'm being a little dramatic...but It was way high, and trust me, if you saw my house, you'd be scared too.

Anywho...super short chapter, so sorry...but I promise the next one will be longer.

Blood and Smoke

I know it's bad to say, but my first kill was fun. I was eleven. I had been officially training as an assassin for one year. This included learning how to smoke. The first time I took a drag on a cigarette, I got so sick…Slade thought it funny. He wasn't a smoker himself, but he could do it. It was an act for distraction. Smoking was a way to blend in. Slade wasn't addicted. In fact, since he never really got close to his victims, he never smoked. I, however, stay on the streets. I kill close. I carry a pack of cigarettes in my belt at all times. I got hooked. I smoked one at every kill. I smoked at home. I smoked at school. I still smoke. I smoked at my first kill. I threw the butt on the ground. I always throw the butt on the ground. No one ever pays a cigarette butt any attention. This was Jump city. Cigarette butts were about as common as rocks. Slade wasn't too thrilled with the concept. But, he was the one who said I needed to learn, and learn I did. It's his fault. Not mine. So, he put up a minor protest on occasion, but he eventually let it go. After my first kill, I was officially a criminal. The sight of seeing someone crumple and die right in front of you is breathtaking. There's a shot. Blood. Dead. Sometimes a scream, but otherwise, it's simple… I never got caught. Eventually, I became a hard person. My emotions didn't show. I didn't let them. I killed and I stole and I moved on. There was nothing to it. Like turning over in my sleep. It was normal. I didn't crave blood like I craved nicotine. I was only doing my job. For a job well done, I got a hefty pay check from my employer. Business as usual. Slade got a portion of the income, but the rest was mine. My second kill went the same way. I stood on a street corner. I lit a cigarette. I waited. The victim walked into an alley, or into his house, or whatever. I followed.

I shot him.

He crumpled.

And bled.

And died.

I left.

I tossed down the butt.

I went home.

The money was transferred into my account.

That's how all of my kills went. That's how they still go. Except, now, all the money is mine.

It was just another day in the life of Stygian.

I never killed as Dick. He was too pure.

Stygian, however, had blood stains on his hands.

And he was perfectly fine with it.

Next Chapter is super duper important. I have a lot of it written, but I still have to finish it. I need time, so bear with me please.

R&R! I love reviews more than new socks!