Death's Angel

Chapter 1

His breath hitched as his eye focused on his target. The grip on the sniper, tightened as his breathing slowed, his finger caressed the trigger, careful not to press it, as he watched his target get out of their car.

Just wait.

That's what he was ordered to do, wait, wait until it happens. The target's name was Trent Wilson, ex associate of WGPD turned gangster who finds himself being an errand boy nowadays. A laugh escaped the sniper's mouth as he examined Trent's suit. White as a cloud, from head to toe.

'An easy target,' The sniper thought. His tongue poked at his left canine as a tiny smirk appeared on his lips. Trent laughed, slapping a hand on his colleagues' shoulder who only stared at him with such intensity. Not even a hint of a smile appeared on his face. A woman, slender as ever, walked out the building, in a suit. Patricia Downs, legitimate business woman. CEO of Alistair Productions. Trent handed Patricia a suitcase. She opened it and examined before closing it and reaching to his hand.

Patricia's eyes wandered up to the sniper's position and nodded with it going unnoticed by Trent. She stepped to the right a little and without hesitation, he pulled the trigger. A loud bang sounded and a bullet pierced the air and impaled through Trent's skull.

Blood flowed from his brain and flowed down to his nose. Trent dropped to his knees before falling face first on the concrete. Patricia tapped an earpiece and smirked up at him. "Great work, Reaper." She praises. Reaper pressed his com and replied: "Expect anything less?" Patricia chuckled, "I suppose not. Your money will be sent to your account." Reaper smiled and nodded.

"Nice doing business with you."

"Likewise."

Standing up, Reaper saluted towards them before turning and leaving. He disassembled the rifle part by part as he stuffed it away in a suitcase. The car door closed. Reaper looked around his surroundings before getting into the car and drove from the ex-extraction point. His eyes studied the area in front of him, not bothering looking around him. Just forward like a statue, almost motionless.

A cop car drove his bumper dangerously close. Reaper's eyes watched him carefully. Switching from the road from the cop car. Was this another one? Another unfortunate officer? Or was he gonna choose to mind his business? Sweat dripped off of Reaper's hands as they tightened and loosened repeatedly. His hands trembled as the cop stayed on him.

Was he suspicious? Did he know who he was? The cop ultimately backed off and drove around him. Reaper released the breath that he didn't even know that he was holding. He was one of the lucky ones because if he had decided to stop him, it wouldn't have ended well. Reaper arrived at his apartment complex. An old and damn near run down unappealing building. The bricks were rusted and the back door was chipping. Reaper sighed as his hand grasped and twisted the old knob before entering the building.

He dragged his feet up the endless amount of stairs. Apartment 207, home of an older woman by the name of Mrs. Peris. Reaper acknowledged the senior, nodding in her direction and a tiny smile played on his face as he trudged on to his apartment. "Rough night, Mr. Rogers?" She asked softly.

"Yes, Mrs. Peris. The new guy screwed up everything." He lied. Reaper lied straight to this woman's face, as always. He never felt bad about it but he did know if she truly knew then he'd have to do the unspeakable.

Rather lie and keep her alive than tell the truth and kill her. "Give him another chance. He may surprise you." Mrs. Peris smiled at him. Reaper nodded slowly before saying: "Maybe you're right." Mrs peris chuckled, "Aren't I always?"

Reaper chuckled a little, "I guess you're right. Good night, Mrs. Peris."

"Goodnight dear." With that, Reaper entered his apartment. He looked around his apartment. The dripping of the faucet sounded. His furniture wasn't the best but it was there. Reaper dropped the suitcase on the ground and entered his kitchen.

He grabbed a clean glass, turned on the sink and fixed himself a glass of water before slamming the glass down and gripping the edge of the sink.

Staring down at his hands, Reaper shook his head. 'A great life,' he thought. A slight creek rang in his ears. Without moving, Reaper parted his lips and said: "Come on out. I know you're there." Heels clicked before becoming silent. "Leslie Woodrow, to whom do I owe the pleasure?" Reaper turned to the woman.

Leslie smirked at him: "Not gonna offer a woman a drink?" Reaper opened the fridge and grabbed two cans of soda. He offered her a can in which she took. Bringing the rim to her lips, she gulped down the soda before slamming down the can on the table.

"What do you want now?" Reaper asks. Leslie reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a folder, examining it before handing it over to Reaper. Reaper eyes it questioningly. "Open the damn thing." Reaper sighs before opening the envelope. Two stacks of cash fell out and a picture flowed into his lap. Bringing the picture closer to his face, he looked at it before peering up at Leslie through his eyelashes.

She took the hint and answered, "You're next assignment, Audrey Harold, Richardson's billionaire playboy who found himself in a "sticky" situation."

She was cool and collected which seemed normal to Reaper nowadays. Her legs were crossed as she leaned back in the chair with one arm resting on the back of the chair while her other arm was stretched outwards on the table with her can in her hand as she smiled at him with such lust and greed in her eyes.

Reaper knew who she was.

Leslie was one of the women who loved mixing business with pleasure:murder and money.

The double M's as she'd call it. Her foot was fondling with his pants leg as her eyes bore into his. A tiny smirk appeared on her face as flirtatiousness appeared in her eyes. "Your new "partner" wants it nice and perfectly executed. No unnecessary casualties." She tells him.

Leslie stood and walked over to him, sitting on the table, using her arms to keep her upright. Reaching forward, she used her finger to make him look up at her.

"You understand?" Reaper nodded. Leslie softly patted his cheek before getting close to his face and murmured, "Good boy." Leslie stared into his eyes before standing up and moving towards the door.

Reaper followed her to the door. She peeped over at him from her shoulder. "You have a flight to catch in the morning," She smirked, "good luck."

Without another word, Leslie left. Reaper closed the door and sighed.

'Another day, another paycheck,'