Bass that thrums through your veins, music that speaks to your soul, people that dance and let go. That's where the silver eyes found themselves. The man whose eyes rivaled liquid silver in color and clarity watched from the darkest corner as he silently sharpened his shiv. Being a mercenary wasn't his first choice, but when he'd been faced with the choice of either killing for money or being imprisoned in the most secure facility to date, he chose to be a mercenary. The money wasn't bad and his non-existent emotions made him the most efficient man in his field.
As one song faded into the next, the man spotted his target. Her arms were decorated with tribal tattoos and colorful plastic bracelets and she seemed perfect. Perfectly harmless, that was. The girl weighed less than half of the man's weight and she carried herself with such a timid demeanor that at first the man mistook it for true shyness. It was only after watching her for a moment that he realized that the small-framed girl was, in fact, his mark. Her timid demeanor was a mask for something stronger and deadlier than the man had originally assumed. He caught her eye from across the thrumming dance floor and held her gaze. Like a frightened gazelle, she acknowledged that she was dead where she stood. She held his gaze for a moment before slowly backing towards the doors. Movement to her left startled her and the man saw, with some dismay, that another mercenary was making his way towards her. This second man had no tact and no skill in blending in and now he was about to ruin the silver-eyed one's mark. The girl fled to her right, knocking a tray of alcoholic drinks out of the hands of a waiter on her way. She dodged between the tables and threw herself over the rails and onto the dance floor. Both men lost sight of her for a moment but the silver-eyed one got a visual on his mark just as she slipped through a small door under the stage. He calmly made his way around to the side entrance and slipped under the stage as well.
The sound of frantic panting made him think of her as a rabbit and himself as a wolf. Under the stage everything was muffled except for her breathing and the sounds of her frenzy. The silver-eyed man breathed out slowly and caught the sound of a locked door being rattled dead ahead of him.
"It's no use running." His voice stopped the girl in her tracks and he heard the breath catch in her chest.
"J'ai entendu parler de vous." Her voice was pitched in fear. "C'est inutile de prier pour ma vie." Her French stopped the man for a moment as her words translated in his mind. She had heard of him and she wasn't going to beg for her life like so many others had. She knew it was a fruitless effort.
"Well, that'll save me the time of telling you that begging won't help you." He responded flatly. The man advanced and pushed aside the curtain of ropes that separated him from his mark.
The girl stood there, unarmed and unafraid. The air was thick with her previous fear, but something about the fact that he was the one that was before her had calmed her and erased her fear. The man took a moment to examine his mark. Her face was angular in a way that could be beautiful if she made an effort. With no effort, she was still pretty, but in a natural way. She was petite, but very obviously toned. It almost made him feel bad that he would have to kill a specimen such as her. When his gaze made it past her shoulders and to her eyes, he was thrown a bit at the lack of fear there. It was as if she had accepted her death and now faced it openly.
"Why aren't you afraid? I'm here to kill you." The silver-eyed man told her, whilst baring his shiv.
"Je sais. Mais vous aurez simplement à le faire et rein d'autre. Je n'ai pas peur de la mort." She replied.
"Translation?" The man asked with an air of exasperation. The girl nodded with a small smile on her face.
"I said I know that you are here to kill me. But I am not afraid because you will only kill me and it is not death that I fear." The girl slowly exhaled and then added, "So if you are here to kill me then do so. I have locked your competition outside and he will not get inside in time to kill me himself." The girl's eyes fluttered closed and she simply stood there waiting for death.
The silver eyed man had heard that on occasion a mercenary would torture or rape his victim. It usually happened with the less prominent marks or the more careless mercs. The fact that this girl was more afraid of pain then death struck the man as odd, but he shrugged it off.
"Well, let's get this show over with then." He said and then struck out at her with a closed fist and a sharp shiv. He felt contact with her face for only a moment before he was thrown backwards with a force that could not have come from the girl. The man opened his eyes and saw a brightly illuminated figure briefly before he blacked out.