Mr & Mr Hitman

Death

He sighed exasperatedly, bending down to drag the corpse across the other side of the living room, "How about "The inbreds"?", he shot a mischievous glance to his boyfriend wiping the furniture and ground with detergent.

God, those gloves look good on him.

"Samuel, we are hitmen, not fucking unemployed comedians from the tribal continents," Cameron sighed at yet another failed attempt from his lover to find a suitable new name for their joined organizations, "Actually," he shook his head, "You're from the West, so I'm not surprised."

"My sense of humor goes unappreciated again," Sam sighed, wiping his forehead in a muscle memory routine, his flesh dry like the walls surrounding him, "But now what?"

"You made sure to be careful with your imprints?", Cameron waited for the other man to nod at his inquiry before continuing, "Alright, so we leave the body just right here," he pointed at the dead woman, "Mr. Osborn told us to carve our stamp on her," he looked up to Samuel, "You're doing it?"

"I mean why not?", Samuel chuckled in response, taking his pen knife off as he stayed kneeled on front of the cold body, seizing her cold left limb, he began his work of absolute horror, "Don't you think we're making this hard for ourselves?"

"Like what?"

"Like why make a symbol when we could be quick with it?", Samuel proceeded, "We could just scoop or simply even poke their eye out? We could cut their tongues off?"

The meticulous work of Cameron of cleaning the ground rendered itself useless when the curdled blood of their victim flowed and dripped onto the hard wooden planks. She had died of strangulation five days prior, and the reason why her body was so well-preserved was because of the involvement of the morgue into this case.

Our characters' set up were the stepping stone to two different things; firstly, the conclusion of Vixen's murder and; secondly, and most prominently, the introduction of the two new 'stars' in town and their merger.

Obviously, this wasn't how the main plan should've gone, but betrayals cannot be avoided, and in a well established organization, 'forgive and forget' isn't exactly a motto they live by - To be clearer, there's a pawn from 1320, Samuel's clan, who snitched on them to members of the opposing groups, this caused their clash to come to an abrupt stop, fearing the outcome of their rash actions. Safe to say that right now, the flirty and funny Brian Osborn that we all know and appreciate, isn't holding back his gruesome persona anymore.

"Then let's do that," Cameron chuckled when Samuel abruptly turned up to look at him, stopping his course of carving, "See the pinky?"

"Surely not," Samuel retrieved the blade from the flesh, a slow grin forming by the side of his lips while he tried to contain his joy; it was clearer than glass that he was excited to proceed with that idea.

He is a psychopath, and the narrator stays by that statement.

"Why the fuck are you so happy about chopping fingers?", Cameron crunched up his face, "Anyway, my grandparents taught me that the little finger also translates to 'fate' or even 'karma'," he instructed, "And I watched in movies, when they betray their gangs or lose in gambling or even a fight, the yakuza cut it off as a sign of eradicating dishonor," his tone appeared more excited as he proceeded, not because of the topic at hand, much because of the Japanese connections behind it.

"Alright," Samuel let out another chortle, grabbing the limp pinky of the corpse in an instance. He pressed it against the ground, and once he applied pressure on the blade, the joint disconnected from the palm and contrary to beliefs, it didn't either jump out nor did blood pour out like a fountain; mostly because blood flow has ceased for days.

"There you go," the hazel-eyes bearer offered his hand to Sam, "Do you think I should clean this too?"

"Leave it be, it'll be too obvious that it was Vixen behind it," he responded, "Thank you," the brunette hummed, grasping the palm and pulling himself up, putting the blade back in his pocket, "We're off to Brian's then?"

"We have no other plans," Cameron reminded, gasping when he fell himself being yanked away from the window he was staring out of, "Please do stop this behavior of dragging me out of nowhere," he leaned his head on the man's shoulder, the latter pulling the curtains shut, while he slowly took the pen knife out of his boyfriend's back pocket."

"What if they have cameras out? How about residents? What will you do if they see your face?", the taller male twirled his boyfriend around, looking him in the eye.

"Justin provided the both of us with elaborated insight on the cameras' locations," the shorter hitman spoke, "And it's night," he squinted his eyes in a 'I got you' manner, "You and I both know you weren't looking out for me."

"Yeah, I was looking at you," chocolate orbs peered into a honey green reflection as silence enveloped them, their body eradicated heat for each other, a sort of temptation that forbid any sort of distance they could possibly create. Crickets chanting, engines roaring and the uncanny whistling of the frosty wind couldn't camouflage their beating hearts, pumping faster than usual because of each other's breath, "Aren't we," Samuel's eyes moved down to the chapped lips on the other man's face, "losing time?", he clenched his jaw, looking up to the dilated pupils that stared into his soul.

"We'll move when you move," Cameron managed to whisper, earning a chuckle from his boyfriend when he found himself distracted by lips too, "You're the one holding on to me."

"And you're not pushing me away," cliché, romantic, sexual tension, everything present in the bundle of love, yet they found themselves unable to savor it longer when Samuel's phone rang.