I killed people. A lot of people. Loads of people. I was in the Army for five years, of course I killed people. I poached tigers in India and I killed the most evil bitch there was: Kali's Kitten. Mean, nasty tiger, but I respected her - even after she nearly took my entire right side off. Swiped me real good… Can't remember too much after that except that I went tumbling down a fucking sewer with the cat attached to my side. But she's dead now. Shot the girl dead when I took what I thought would be my last breath. I was nearly famous for that kill; the arsehole's wanted to put my scar in the spotlight but I said to hell with that. Three claw marks that begin above my right nipple and curve about my shoulder and to my shoulder blade. Ain't nothin' appealing about that. That's not the point though. The point is, I've seen some scary shit in my lifetime but out of every fucking thing I've ever seen - out of any body I've ever faced, there wasn't anything more terrifying than the man who was sat at his desk in front of me. How do I even describe something so terrifying?

Jet black hair which was only slightly receding (he had to be in his mid-thirties), his eye colour matched his hair colour, (ain't never seen anyone with black eyes), and his neck… It was long - not abnormally long, just… His posture and the way he carried himself made his neck seem longer than average and there was this… thing that he seemed to do quite frequently, where he would swivel his head on that long neck in a serpent-like manner.

Serpentine.

That was actually a rather perfect description of the man. Jim Moriarty with his snake-like eyes that could haunt even the most gruesome of creatures, sharp teeth, and sinewy, wiry fingers.

I didn't know which fit him better - spider or snake - but either way, he was attractive, painfully so, and he had my full attention as he listed off my entire history starting with my father, mother, brothers, and sisters. Okay, so he did his research. Good for him.

"Do you know what the point of all of this was, Sebastian?" It was a damn good thing that his black eyes irises were focused on the folder in his hand rather than at me or he would have noticed the shudder that rattled my spine just from the way he said my name.

Sebastian. Seb-ass-chien.

Intricate, making sure not to miss the pronunciation of a single vowel or consonant… and that was just it. It wasn't his good looks or even that sultry voice paired with that lovely accent– it wasn't his physical attributes that made him so damn attractive, it was how thorough he was – in everything he did and in everything he said.

"No." I finally replied. Sure, I had my ideas of why he made me sit through every fucking detail of my life but I wanted to hear it from him.

"Tsk." He tapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth, annoyed apparently, with my answer. "I could claim that it was to show you that no matter what the information, I can siphon it from the past without much difficulty, but I would have pulled up a far more interesting record for that. Could say a number of things, Sebastian."

Maybe he did spot the shiver that shot up my spine earlier? Why else would he draw out my name?

"But I honestly did it for no reason in particular."

I pursed my lips to stop a sigh from escaping my mouth but there was nothing I could do about the dramatic eye roll that I know he saw clearly.

"Something the matter, darling?"

Nope. That was it. I was pissed the fuck off and not even a gag was going to stop be from going off at that point. "You takin' the piss?" I didn't just fucking stand there in his office for two god damn hours for no good reason.

"Pardon?"

"Taking the piss. It means–."

"I know what it means, Sebastian Moran. I'm not a proper idiot."

Rule #1: Don't interrupt me.

"Are you sure about that, Moriarty? Because a proper idiot would waste another man's time for the fuck of it."

Those snake-like eyes burned a hole straight through me, that fucking head craned from side-to-side, and before I even knew what was happening, the Irishman was on his feet and my right cheek was stinging from the full-force backhand he landed upon it. "You talk to me like that again, Moran, and I will put a bullet through your fucking skull."

No one - no one - ever, ever, ever, ever had the nerve to slap me. Anyone who wanted to was too afraid of what I might do, but not Moriarty. No, it was far too obvious that Moriarty wasn't afraid of anything. Those who feared nothing were always the most terrifying, horrifying creatures because that made them inhuman. Fear was natural, an instinct that every man had hardwired into their brain from birth… but that was the difference between man and Moriarty… and that is exactly why I walked out of that office, a polite decline of any job he had to offer me paired along with a quiet farewell to him.

A few days after the meeting with Moriarty, I was contacted, by text message, about a certain job that needed to be done. I was never a big fan of anonymity when it came to people contacting me, but my bank account was slowly depleting, so I agreed to the desperate sounding message and managed to actually meet up with the anonymous sender.

He was ginger; short, fat, and stubby. John Smith he said his name was. "John Smith?" I asked, smirking.

"John Smith." He repeated, face as stoic as can be. It was a lie, but I didn't give a fuck. I knew what he looked like and that was good enough for me. The job sounded simple enough; a flat at the edge of the city. Highland Flats – there was a family of six that lived there. A father, wife and mother, and their spoiled rotten children. All I had to do was kill them – all six of 'em. It shouldn't have been a problem for me, but once I was perched on the building adjacent from my target, once I was behind that sniper scope once more, something triggered within me – something pulled at my gut, and I had no idea what it was until I caught sight of two of the children bounding around in the middle of the living room while their father sat comfortable in a recliner about three feet away from the fireplace. Was it already cold enough for a fireplace? I certainly couldn't tell.

After I swallowed the inner conflict that threatened to eat at the lining of my esophagus, I wiped my forehead, clicked the safety off which resulted in a small 'click!', and rested my finger just so against the trigger. Just as I was about to pull my finger forward, the lights in the flat went out, the curtain was pulled quickly to cover the window and I knew I was fucked. How the fuck did they know!? I let the question rattle around my head for about five minutes, heart racing rapidly against the inside of my rib cage as my vision started to blur just from utter rage.

"Shouldn'ta hesitated."

An unfamiliar voice spoke behind me but before I could turn my head to look at the intruder, cold metal was pressed to the back of my neck and I was forced to keep my rifle just where it was on the ground. "Up, boy. You're comin' with me."

I remember a few things (getting bashed over the back of the head by the butt of a gun was one of them) before waking to the god-awful feeling of rope pressing against my adam's apple. I was standing though, surprisingly enough. Instinct musta kicked in even in a state of semiconsciousness and my body did whatever it could to keep me alive even if that meant being forced to stand on the tip of my shoes on a wooden table.

"Who ya workin' fer, boy?" Bloody Americans. I looked down at the lot of them from where I was forced to stay standing, and instead of there only being six, there were two more who were armed with rifles of their own. Even in my daze, I managed to smirk sarcastically at the weapons in their hands. "Tha fuck you smilin' 'bout?" Well that was just unfair! How was I supposed to answer a question that I was obviously unable to answer with the rope around my wind pipe?

Apparently that didn't matter to the father, who kicked the leg of the table, causing it to wobble and thus causing me to gag and nearly sputter. "Weapons." I gasped and only then did I realise that my hands were tied behind my back by the same rope and even my ankles were tied rather loosely. "Ya won't shoot those in here." I eyed the two men carrying the Colt's – was still able to tell the make but through the haze I was in, I couldn't yet tell the model… Which was fine because I had an idea. A rather stupid idea but it was an idea nonetheless.

"And why not?" Came the reply from the first male. He was inexperienced, and honestly that was probably his first time holding an actual rifle. Could have revealed that right then and there but that would have only given myself away.

"Don't let 'em change tha subject!" The father, whose drawl was so sloppy and annoying that it was almost painful to listen to, snapped about, his foot landing against the leg of the wooden table again. And again, I gagged. "I asked you a question, boy, now I want'a answer!"

I didn't even remember what the question was at that point, but I thought it would be the best time to start in with the antics I had planned. "Timothy S…Sweeten."

Timothy Sweeten. The fuck kind of name was that? "My name is Timothy Sweeten." At least it sounded almost believable.

"Not what I asked, Sweeten. If ya don't answer me in the next ten seconds, I'm pullin' the table."

Desperate times called for desperate measures and I was in an incredibly desperate situation. No amount of physical strength, no amount of experience prior was going to get me out of the situation. If I didn't improvise, I was going to die and there was no fucking way I was going to die by being hanged by a family of Americans.

"Get this damned rope offa me and we'll talk." I knew I was in absolutely no position to be making demands but it gave me a few more minutes to think something up. Something clever because the old bloke wasn't an entire idiot like I had thought.

"Get behind him. Don't want no funny business." The two armed individuals stood behind me just as he demanded and much to my surprise, he pulled out a knife from his pack and cut the rope. "Let ya down, Sweeten. Now talk."

After I fell (rather dramatically) off of the table, I rose to my feet, shoulders back and spine straight – dunno why I was so fuckin' proud. "Ain't working for nobody." That earned a swift flurry of knuckles to my bottom jaw.

"Didn't take ya down from that table to be told a lie, god dammit!"

"Ain't a lie. I don't know a damn thing about the old bloke. It was an anonymous message." From what I could tell, the look on my face was completely innocent and a wee bit apologetic but inside, my insides were burning. I wanted to kill the man and all of his children right there – not even for the money, but out of cold blood. "I ain't here to kill you, ya' idiot." Not what I had in mind for improvisation, but it would do.

"S'cuse me?" His right eyebrow twitched and his left hand followed suit with it's own twitch. He wanted to kill me almost as much as I wanted to kill him, but he wouldn't. As much as he didn't believe me, I poked at his curiosity.

Now isn't the time to get cocky, Moran.

"Look. I'm desperate for work," wasn't a lie at least, "and I have been for quite some time. I received the message early this morning that I was to protect a family – mother, father, and four kids. I wasn't given any details as to why I had to protect you, and I didn't ask for any." I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage. Yes, I was nervous – the pride fled the moment I started talking again. When I saw that he wasn't taking the bait, I almost told him the truth… Damn, I was rusty.

"Protectin' me, yeah? What the hell d'ya think I have those two for?" He pointed his knife toward the two sharpshooters behind me and I shrugged, my eyes still focused square on his.

"I was supposed to know about them?" I asked, the question as genuine as I could make it, "Obviously someone out there wants you heavily protected. Why don't you think hard on who would find you any sort of valuable?"

I watched his eyes shift from my person and to the ground, up to the ceiling and back to me. He was doing exactly what I wanted him to do- he was thinking about what I just said. Thinking about just who could want him alive so damn bad... But then he asked an unexpected question.

"Who ya protectin' me from?"

I stared at him. Blankly stared straight at his ugly face for what had to be a good two minutes before I blinked even once. If that wasn't the stupidest question I ever heard... "Now how in the hell am I supposed to know that?" The father didn't move a muscle but the two sharpshooters moved from behind me and to either side of the man. They were terrified, oddly enough, and I was so fucking tired of running around in circles at that point, I almost pointed it out. Almost opened my mouth to reveal the fear on their faces but they armed themselves after sharing eye-contact for a split second.

"Moran." The one on the left spoke my surname and I felt every ounce of blood drain from the rest of my body and find my feet once again, but I kept my composure, and as much I wanted to respond to my own name, the expression on my face remained blank and clueless.

"Excu-." Before the father could even finish his sentence, I watched the marksman on the right step back a bit and I braced myself for what was about to happen. My ears were ringing, there was blood on my face, and not only was I confused as all hell, my fucking hands were still tied behind my back! Before I could even argue, there was a blindfold around my head, covering my eyes and there were five more gunshots that rang throughout the flat.

"Thanks a lot, ya fuckin' twats." No clue if the words even came out or if anyone even heard 'em, but once the flat went completely silent, I assumed that my insult went unheard until I felt a heavy foot hit behind my knees, knocking me right onto my arse. Lovely. Just as I was about to give the intruder a piece of my mind, I heard that voice.

That voice.

Shoulda known that the devil was in the room by how fuckin' cold the place got.

"And here I thought you were better than that, Moran~."

I GREATLY appreciate all the feedback this story has received so far~! The follows and favourites are appreciated, my goodness. Thank you a million times. Unfortunately, I'm not very happy with this chapter... But I really hope you guys enjoy it and those soon to come! Chapter three should be up either tomorrow or during the weekend. Thank you again. So much. xo