A/N: This is a rewrite of the original Deaths Angel; I hope to make it better, though the last few chapters were shaping up well. Enjoy and review.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or any of the characters pertaining here within to said licensed anime, with the exception of one character hereafter referred to as Komamaru.
Chapter 1: Sometimes Even the Best Plans Have Flaws
The rain drizzled down on the cold roof top. A fine mist from the heat of his body went out with each breath. Beads of water dripped down his still frame and off the barrel of his rifle, pooling around the indents his boots made in the gravel on the roof. He cycled once more through the three scopes of vision his tri-oculars gave him; infrared, night vision, and body heat. The two writhing bodies on the bed in the room he was peering into began to move faster, almost as though responding to an increase in some music that could only be heard by the two lovers. Their body heat rose, and suddenly the topmost of the two's body jerked, his back spasmed as he released, his head snapping back, his mind blank except for the moment. Komamaru had been waiting for this second for over 2 hours, making a micronic adjustment in his aim at speeds only a pro could he fired two shots. Each one hit their mark, taking the lives of their victim instantly, splattering his targets brains against the walls. Neither of them had had a chance to cry out, as their respective orgasms left them without breath.
Sighing with relief that the tedious night was over the assassin vowed to quit this line of work forever and forcefully recommend that his go between stop getting him into these contracts without his prior knowledge. As he packed his rifle away, disassembling the stock and barrel something caught his eye from the corner of the room that his target had just been in. zooming in he saw it was a small body of heat. Carefully unpacking his rifle he stood in the rain zooming in on the body, waiting to see what it was. He didn't have to wait long as the body shifted in its sleep and a familiar face greeted him. What he saw there was impossible; she was after all wearing the face of a dead girl.
Across town a man stared at his phone, waiting impatiently for the conformation that the kill had been made. His right hand was covered in what appeared to be a monks rosary beads and cloth, as well as a ring carved with ancient sutras. His wife appeared at his elbow, moving noiselessly, setting a cup of tea down she massaged his shoulders gently.
"Miroku" she said "You really shouldn't worry, he's never failed before, he won't now."
"I know" he responded sighing, "but there might be a complication."
Sango took this seemingly minor comment as what it was; a very large problem. Komamaru and Miroku were too precise, too intricate to let 'complications' arise. They accounted for everything and everyone. Seemingly minor details could get a person killed and thus the two of them had always made it a point of professional pride to never be caught unaware. So far they had only had one complication during the entire time of their partnership, and that one had led to a gang war that had killed the majority of the leaders of the yakuza, a rather unpleasant side effect of Komamaru's lust for revenge against Sesshomaru.
Miroku turned back to gazing at the phone, his finger tips pressed together, his chin resting against his palms.
Komamaru froze. His heart stopped beating for a moment and his throat and chest constricted in a surge of hope and fear. She couldn't be sitting there, or rather sleeping there. She was dead. He had seen it himself; her torture and then her execution at the hands of that twisted mad man Sesshomaru. He had been forced to watch as she was raped to death by dozens of Sesshomaru's guards, his demons, even his sickly little lizard priest. He remembered every mind numbing, painful moment of those 4 days. He remembered Rin laughing as she had watched him struggle against his bonds, and unconsciously he traced one of the scars that little bitch had left on him. He had enjoyed throttling her. Squeezing the life from her lungs as she scratched at his wrists furiously, trying to make a sound to call to the guards as her face turned red then purple, and then watching as her struggles ceased and she lay there lifeless.
Turning his mind back to the present he made a decision that he would later decide was very rash.
A/N: Well there's the first rewritten chapter, and I for one think it's a hell of a lot better.