Hamilton Prompts || Requests Closed

Assassin [Marshburr]

Aaron walked silently across the roof, eyes glued to his target. He pursed his lips and held his hand against the trigger of the rifle, waiting for an opportunity.

He smirked when his target stopped to face someone and without a moments hesitation, he pulled the trigger.

His target fell to the ground and Aaron fled the scene.

---

"I take it you were successful?"

Aaron smirked at his employer. "When am I not?"

Mr. Jefferson only hummed before sliding over the owed money. Aaron grabbed it, counted it, and stuffed it in his pocket.

"I have another target for you." Mr. Jefferson said.

Aaron quirked a brow. "Already? You must hate a lot of people."

A flash of irritation crossed Mr. Jefferson's face. "He's a thorn in my side. He needs to go."

"Give me the name and location and I'll finish him for you."

Mr. Jefferson nodded and gave him the information he needed.

---

Aaron squirmed uncomfortably in his expensive suit. He absolutely hated it. The fabric was extremely uncomfortable, not to mention it rubbed against his many scars. Even worse, he could see people gawking at the scars on his face and it was seriously pissing him off.

He forced himself to relax. He had a target to dispose of. He scanned the crowd of people, barely suppressing a smirk when he spotted his target. He grabbed a champagne glass and walked over to the man.

When he was close enough, he pretended to trip over a young lady's long skirt. The drink went flying and spilt all over the man's suit. Aaron's eyes widened with horror.

"I am so sorry." He said. The man, John Marshall gave him a small smile.

"It's fine sir." He said.

"I-I think there is paper towel in the washroom." Aaron fussed. "Please, let me help you clean up."

He waited as his target stared at him, before nodding. "If you insist."

Aaron gave him a sweet smile, gently leading him away. They entered the washroom and Aaron went to the paper towel dispenser. He made sure his knife was properly placed before returning to his target with the paper towels.

"Here." He handed some of them to Marshall, keeping some for himself. They dried off the suit in silence, Aaron waiting for the best opportunity to attack the man. He knew Marshall was bigger than him, most people were, so he would need to find the best time to kill him.

"Jefferson sent you, yes?"

Aaron froze, eyes wide as he stared at Marshall's reflection. The man hadn't even looked up.

"I, what are you talking about sir?" He asked, going back to drying him off.

"I felt you tense there. I'm going to assume my dear cousin sent you." Marshall looked up. "Are you here to kill me?"

Aaron stared back at him, the knife heavy on his arm. "I really don't know what you're talking about sir. Besides, look at me. I am hardly the right size to kill someone, much less you. And if I were here to kill you, do you not think I would do it at a better opportunity? I am certain everyone at that party would remember my hideous face."

Marshall frowned. "Who told you that?"

"Excuse me?"

"Who told you that you have a hideous face?"

Aaron shifted uncomfortably. "No one needs to tell me sir. I know my scars are unpleasing to look at."

He stiffened when Marshall placed a hand on his cheek, gently rubbing the scar that went across his nose. "I think they're quite beautiful." He said.

Aaron's face flushed and he gaped at the man, an unexplainable warmth filling him.

"I... I..."

"I wouldn't mind if I died at your hands." Marshall said, letting his hand dropped. "As long as your face was the last I saw."

Aaron was speechless. Marshall gave him a smile before leaving the washroom.

---

"Have you killed him?" Mr. Jefferson asked.

Aaron scowled. "I haven't had a chance yet."

Mr. Jefferson quirked a brow. "Is that so. I do remember you leading him away to  a washroom. Was that not a suitable time?"

Aaron clenched his hand, blood rushing to his face when he remembered what happened there.

"I will kill him Mr. Jefferson. Have a bit of patience."

Mr. Jefferson only rolled his eyes.

---

Aaron walked into Marshall's home, smiling at the servant he had befriended. He was going to kill this stupid man if it was the last thing he did. He didn't care if Marshall thought his scars were beautiful. He didn't care that the man was the first to ever show him such kindness.

"Hello again."

Aaron flinched and looked up at Marshall.

"Can I help you?" He asked, resisting the urge to just stab the infuriating man now. He couldn't blow his cover.

"I was just wondering what your name was." Marshall said, an easy smile on his face.

"Aaron." Aaron muttered.

"It's nice to meet you Aaron." Marshall said.

"Nice to meet you too." Aaron said, lying through his teeth.

Marshall stared at him. Aaron shifted uncomfortably. He stumbled backwards when Marshall suddenly cradled his face. He nearly fell but Marshall caught him.

"E-excuse you!" He stammered, trying to pull out of the man's grip. Marshall only held him tighter and brought him close to his face.

"What are you doing to me?" He demanded.

Aaron's eyes widened. "What?"

"I can't get you out of my head. Your eyes, your body and your scars. You're a mystery I want to solve." Marshall stroked his face and pressed Aaron against him.

"You're so beautiful..." he muttered. "I can't seem to get enough of you."

Aaron was speechless. He gaped, words trying to form but no sound escaped him.

"Be mine." Marshall said suddenly. "I know you work for Jefferson. Work for me instead."

"H-he will not let me leave." Aaron stuttered.

"I can protect you." Marshall promised. "I can keep you safe and away from him."

"Sir, I..."

"Please Aaron. Let me protect you, let me have you."

Aaron's was silent. How could he accept such a proposal? This man was his target. And yet, even though Marshall knew about his mission, he still wanted to have him.

Marshall was the only person who saw past Aaron's scars. He was the only one who truly wanted him.

"Okay."