You spent your Friday night home alone, lounging in your luxurious penthouse. You were financially stable and overall pretty wealthy for your age. Money was never an issue.
You lived a double life. None of your friends knew what you did for a living. You were an assassin, working as a hit man for higher ups.
People would come to you when they needed someone gone, and you gladly took whatever job they had to offer. Killing was in your blood. You picked up your first gun at the age of 15 when you ran away from home.
Ever since then you've been living on your own. You managed to make a living off something that is deemed illegal, which was risky but you knew how to not get caught. You were a pro at this.
You liked your job. You owned multiple snipers, hand guns, and rifles. Eren Jaeger was your main client. He was a drug lord who constantly had people who he needed to get rid of.
Eren was the main reason you landed a job like this. He needed someone with your expertise and recommended you to other people who would occasionally needed a hit man. Today you had this specific job to kill someone who stole money from Eren. Nothing new.
Your goal was to get a clean shot using your sniper, then leave. As a reward, you'd get paid 5k. Your target's name was Floch.
You got up from your bed and started getting ready, dressing in your regular attire. Black cargo pants, a black turtleneck, black combat shoes, and a long over sized leather jacket.
You grabbed your duffel bag and loaded it up with your sniper and bullets, then left. You got in your car and started heading to the designated location. The plan was for you to go on top of a building and just wait until you saw Floch. Easy, right?
Once you got there, you set everything up so you were ready to go. You texted Eren to let him know it was go time. You positioned yourself as you always do, finger on the trigger, eyes looking directly at the target.
As soon as you saw Floch getting out of his car, you didn't hold back and immediately went for it. The loud sound of the bullet leaving your gun always sent chills down your spine, in a good way. The sound was intoxicating.
You landed a clean shot right in his heart. "Nice!" You said, admiring the work you just did. Floch was now on the floor, laying in a pool of his own blood. There were screams coming from each corner of the street.
