Assassin [boyxboy]

Chapter 1: Education Versus Brothel

Chapter 1: Education Versus Brothel

(Edge's POV)

It's not very often that I don't have to travel far for work. Usually, I have to spend the better half of the day and night trying to find my target and then waiting out for the perfect opportunity, so I was quite surprised while on my way to school a woman passing me on the street received a death mark.

A death mark is more or less when a black fog starts to envelop the target's body until someone (like me) can do something about it. Of course, no one but certain individuals can see it, so it's not like a common mortal can join in on the business. Death marks resemble the soul-rotting until it can be released from its shell.

I glanced at my watch and back up to eye the woman as she walked away from me. I sighed as it couldn't be helped. A job was a job, no matter where I am or what I'm doing. I have to remove my headphones and pull my black hoodie up over my head.

With a quick glance around and backing up into an alley, I took the thick skull ring I always have on my middle finger and gave it a kiss to summon my shadows. Within moments, my body was cloaked in darkness and I could move without making a sound.

The busy streets of Boston isn't the most ideal location to murder someone, but I've dealt with worse. Try killing a court jester without being caught. Sure, it sounds easy, but you'd have to think of all the variables. The jester was always performing, he used the servant's bathroom which means someone was always waiting to get in after, and he slept in a public quarter with at least three other people at once. I managed to make his death look like the suicide of a mad fool, but every job has to go flawlessly. If everyone knew about the assassin's then there would be people trying to cheat death or retaliate.

My reputation is on the line every time I get a job. I'm expected to follow protocol and make it go off without a hitch. There are too many eyes on me that are waiting for me to slip up.

Like it'll ever happen, but still.

Being the youngest and more successful assassin came with responsibility and an expectation to always be the best. 

I left my backpack tucked behind a dumpster as I tiptoed behind the unsuspecting woman. Her long blonde hair hanging loosely to her waist, blowing back as she walked along. I could even smell her flowery shampoo which is kinda daunting for someone about to commit murder.

My eyes snap around, seeing a clear street and an alleyway approaching. I take a lunge forward and drag the woman in so quickly, she doesn't have time to make a sound. I resemble that of a tarantula, catching and dragging my prey into my hole.

The job is done quickly and painlessly, which is how I like to do it normally. If my victim seems to be a good enough person, I'd rather them not suffer. If my target is cruel or just nasty, I like to take my time with the job; have a little fun if you will. Some people deserve the worst death imaginable and that isn't even enough to get back at the horrible things they've done in their life.

The death collectors appeared just as my cloak was disappearing. "Thanks for the hard work fellas'. I'd stay and help, but I'm late for school." They didn't even acknowledge my existence which is just how they're supposed to be. Death collectors are empty husks of assassin's who were exiled from their field and this is their eternal punishment. 

I straighten out my clothes and thank my cloak for not allowing me to look even more disheveled than expected of a teenage boy.

I glance at my watch again.

7:56

If I run at the speed of light, I would probably be five minutes late. Since I'm not a spaceship, I just run like a regular teenager whose overslept and late.