𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 - 𝐌𝐀𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐁 / 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Rotting meat, consumption of rotting meat, assassins, intimidation, mention of using others for personal gain, implied abuse, headache mention, dissent

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The night was silent- as was your team. Eight elite assassins, all from their different backgrounds, hunting their prey for their own reasons. You? You wanted to escape this hell. The Auditor offered you handsome pay in exchange for another agent's life, and you were going to receive it.

You had to admit, though, why she'd needed such experienced and jaded killers to dispose of this monster. Would it be that hard? You'd taken care of dangerous dissenters before, and have even taken down Hank once or twice. You shook your head, cocking your rifle. If you were forced into a team, it was for a good reason.

One of your teammates, titled "Ranger", cocked his head at your determined expression. "You, uh, really excited for this, huh?" he asked. You simply huffed. You despised talking. Ranger took notice of this and chuckled. "Not a talker?"

"No," you signed angrily. "Quiet." You smirked at his embarrassment. Grabbing a mag and stuffing it in your pocket, you continued: "I'm getting that hit." He snorted, much to your frustration.

"And if I do instead?"

You stood to full height, watching as the man crumbled with anxiety. Grabbing him by the collar, you mouthed, "Fuck around." you dropped him to the ground with a thud, smiling at his frightened face. If you weren't going to be working solo, you could at least use these lesser grunts as bait or assistants.

This would be a long night for sure, but it'd be fun as well.

* * *

The MAGnified Elton scrounged about, shifting garbage bags like some giant, fucked up raccoon. His claws tore into the junk and plastic, spilling bodies and discarded food. Food.

It grabbed a corpse and bit into the hot, decaying meat. Disgusting, but it'll have to do. He forced himself to wolf it down, so he wouldn't have to deal with the taste.

Elton snarled in distaste as the rotten flesh oozed down his throat, like a sludge. He hated it, and the splitting headache caused by those screws in his head didn't help. That's only one of the reasons for his dissent- the agency was simply too stressing. Maybe if he just worked harder. . .

No. He's worked hard as he could. He deserves this. He deserves the world for his work. Luckily for him, his special thing is searching for him just as he is it.

He only has to wait.