Assassin
Chapter One.
It was such a perfect art. The embodiment. The practice. The execution of it. A versatile art that, unlike most other arts, could truly never die. There would never be a single moment where one could freely say that this art had been vanquished from the world. It was a belief, and one could not destroy belief's. It was like a religion, a faith. The practice of a human being killing another human being would never ebb from the human consciousness. Whether from psychotic rage, to pre-meditated, it would never truly die.
And that was why Marcus Hemmingway choose to pursue the occupation of executed targets by assassination. He knew the practice was undefeatable, so why should he worry about his job? He was paid extremely well, and his employers were always loyal to his eventual compensation. But it never truly was about money in the first place. It was the thrill of the stalking a target, whether by scope or by foot. He would never present himself to a target except when they had only a mere five seconds left to live. He would never be caught by bodyguards, because he would never kill them. The target was life and death. He would dedicate himself to dispatching the target without fail, but would never lay a hand on anyone else except for mere non-lethal incapcitation, if they ever truly presented a threat. And such occurences were rare indeed. So no one saw him, because he was invisible to them. That's why he only wore casual clothing, or the apprarel of civil servents. He had no need to hide himself if no one believed he posed a threat in the first place.
And yes, money was part of it, that much was certain, but only as reputation, really. No one would think of hiring him if he were an incompetent. So he always haggled for a higher price, watch the frusteration in his employers eye as they realized just who they were dealing with. And he never turned down a single contract, having the luck of an emperor to recieve only top-quality targets. Religious leaders. Political scapegoats. He was even responsible for the assassination of President Meads predecesor. Whoever's name went on the contract would die.
His equipment was his own, having the dignity to not accept supplies from his employers. A stealth pistol, modified to have an infrared laser pointer that his eyes were specially modifed to see. A traditional blade, for close combat, should the need EVER arise. And finally, his prefered weapon, a S-G 4 Military sniper rifle, modified for a silencer, infrared scanning, x-ray scope, silencer, and more assorted upgrades. Loud and obtrusive weapons were for barbarians. A true assassin dispatches his quarry quickly, and silently.
Marcus was of un-interesting complexion, a fair white skin that wouldn't single him out in a crowd. He was in shape for his age, but not religiously so. A man of large size drew stares. He was simple, and sure-footed, for the age of thirty nine. Often said to be the least interesting man most people had ever met, yet the deadliest assassin ever contracted.
And today had yielded him a contract.
"Sit down."
Marcus complied. He sat down in an un-interesting metal rimmed chair, in front of an equally bleak table. The room requested for the meeting was almost completely dark, save for this area. He could not make out the width or depth of a room with such blackness. Behind him was the door he had entered through, guarded by an unreal sized man in a tuxedo. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of large sunglasses, but there was a hint of red underneath. He was obviously made for brawn instead of elloquence.
Behind the door was the sprawling city of Hong Kong, capitalist capitol of the Asian world. He had arrived by helicopter at the airport, and had been taken here by helicopter as well. He guessed he was in the business district, in a large building, across the canal from the market place. Hong Kong was a dire straights of in-fighting, the Canal being the seperation mark. The Luminous Path in the market, and Red Arrow with the business. Many people had been killed needlessly in their fighting.
The nigh featureless room, and the neanderthal bodyguard set Marcus up for the type of person whom he would be dealing with. Paranoid. Very powerful. Perhaps slightly unattractive. His client would probably give too many demands, not allowing him to speak often. His client would also most likely not give too many suggestions.
That is, if his client would even show himself. It was very possible that he would not see him at all, but hear him, over a voice phone, or blank holo-link up.
Marcus realized that he had already characterized his client as a male, instead of leaving said client genderless. But he knew from experiance how different genders spawned different meeting circumstances. A woman would be far more likely to see him in a public place, face to face. Men were far, far more likely to stay secretive.
The large bodyguard stepped up to the table, placing his hand of Marcus' shoulder. It was, to his surprise, rather gentle.
"Mr. Page will be here in several minutes, please wait until then."
Marcus' nodded soundlessly, and steppled his fingers. So. Bob Page wanted him to assassinate someone. He wouldn't pursue the why, for he rarely did. Instead, he began to formulate ideas as to who would be his target. He was slightly gravitating to a business opponent, like Zhulu-Tech or Everett Enterprises.
Something bothered him about the set-up of the room, however, now that he knew who it was he would be meeting. Page never struck him as the secretive type, usually very open to reporters, and especially so when regarding his new Internet plan, the Aquinas Router. His own private life had been monopolized upon by the media countless times, and none of it seemed to incriminate Page in the least, besides the occasional tabloid accusing him of being the leader of the Illuminati. So why all the darkness and elephant bodyguards?
He eventually lost himself in his thoughts, and was surprised when the bodyguard was gently prodding him to announce Page's presence. He walked in, wearing his trademark white suit, and smiling the smile he was so famous in marketing for. He was the richest man to ever grace the surface of the planet, dwarfing the Microsoft giant, Bill Gates of the twentith century.
"I'm pleased you could come at such a busy hour, Marcus." Page said.
"The pleasure, I assure you, is all mine." Marcus said. It was his opening statement to every contract negotiation.
Page smiled, and took a seat in the chair opposite of Marcus. He was a man who was known for getting down to business quick, so Marcus didn't expect much of a wait. Page reached into his suit, and drew out an envellope marked "CONFIDENTIAL: FOR YOUR EYES ONLY." He layed it down on the table, and pushed it over to Marcus. He took it in his hands, and opened it, spilling the contents onto the table, where he examined them in silence. They consisted merely of two papers. The first one was a large photograph of a man, presumably his target, and the other contained detailed information on the subject.
The photo showed a male, young, of, according to the other paper, twenty three years of age. He wore very slick aviators over his eyes, which were tinged slightly with a blueish glow not unlike that of the bodyguard nearby. He was extremely pale in complexion, almost to the point of being a solid bust. His hair was a widows peak, very well kept. A side photo showed him to have unnatural blue tattoos on his neck. His name, according to the paper aside, was JC Denton.
"I presume this JC Denton is the man you wish to be killed." Marcus said upon finishing his inspection of the papers.
Page leaned forward, "Marcus, I called you here because I have two things to offer you if you kill this man."
"Two?" Marcus said.
"Two." Page confirmed, "One, you will get any amount of money you desire. Name it now and it will be transfered to you upon completion. "
"A million." Marcus said. It was a good number, for such a generous offer.
Page smiled, "Very well. Number two will offer you more than that money ever will."
"I'm listening." Marcus said.
"I am prepared to offer you a job in my...organization." The way Page said "organization" didn't suggest to Marcus that he was talking about Page Industries. "You will be able to work there as an agent of mine. You will do jobs only for me, and the benefits will be enormous."
"Well, I prefer to remain free-lance, you see. It increases my...market value. And I couldn't possibly dream of being officially employed again." There were other reasons, however, for his reluctantness. The type of job Page was describing did not seem bound to have any escape routes once employed.
Page processed this for a moment, frowning slightly, "I would be very disappointed if you did not accept it, Marcus."As soon as Page said this, Marcus realized there was very little chance he had to get out. "It really is a fine opporutunity for you to excersize your skills far more often. Besides. We could use more people like you in the world."
Marcus pondered for a moment, calculating the chances he had of incapacitating Page and making it through his leviathan bodyguard. Probably not so good with the guard part, and even so, there was still the whole building to deal with. Page smiled broadly, knowing he had won.
"Tell me more." He eventually said.
(Authors Note: I had planned this to be a short one-shot, but then I decided that maybe it deserved more than one chapter. Be sure to stay tunned for more of this.)