Under Circumstances: a UsUk fanfiction

Intro to Hitman Jones

This musty smell... This darkness.. Hands are bound together.. Where the hell was he? Not too long ago rich buyer, Henry Myers was trying to get his hands on a priceless artifact from a dealer. A famous painting that would a have fit perfectly in his study... But, now, he was here. Wherever "here" exactly was.. This wasn't supposed to happen. Henry's heart almost pounded out of his chest when he heard footsteps echo into the room.

"Who's there!?" He shouted in a panicked voice, trying to move out of this damned chair to no avail. If only he could see..
The footsteps were only growing closer as well.

"Well hello, Mr. Myers.." Henry recognized that all too cheery voice instantly, sending shivers up his spine. When the blindfold was ripped off of his face he instantly froze in shock. Those piercing blue eyes, that young face, that cheery yet dark attitude... There was no doubt that this man was most certainly, the one and only, cold blooded Hitman Jones. How the hell hadn't he realized it sooner!? He was most certainly done for.

"What do you want, Jones? I-i'll do anything! Just don't kill me!" Henry begged, hoping that somehow this evil killer would spare him. "Oh pooh. You already figured me out? That's no fun." Jones pouted, pacing slowly in circles around Henry's chair as he spun his pistol around his pointer finger. He always enjoyed intimidating his victims. It was hard to contain himself from laughing once taking so much as a glance at the evident fear in their faces.

"You see, Myers, you know that painting I tried selling to you? Well, it seems I'm a bit low on cash. Usually I play fair but, well you know how tough the world can be. Long story short, I need your cash...
but I also need that painting."
Henry stiffened at this. He wasn't usually one to throw away his money so carelessly but, if that was what Jones wanted then he didn't have much of a choice. The hitman's footsteps echoed off of the walls like that of a clock, ticking down the seconds Henry had to live. Each step more and more intimidating.

"Okay, okay! I'll do it! Take my money and the damned painting but please, don't kill me!" Henry felt a bit of relief when Jones turned around and stopped pacing, as if taking his pleads into consideration. Though that relief didn't last too long when Jones turned back around with that creepy, signature smile of his.

"Well, the thing is, I can't let you go around telling people that I didn't actually sell you the painting. It wouldn't look too swell for other possible buyers, ya dig?"

The man could feel his heart begin to race with fear and anxiety as he began so thrust around violently in his chair. He needed to escape. He should have known Jones wouldn't have let him live. This mass serial killer was an evil man with no mercy for other's lives.

After about a thirty seconds of trying to escape, Myers looked up at the killer, only for his eyes to meet with a sinister smile and wild eyes.. He could feel his sweaty body run cold when he made the mistake of looking down at Jones' hand.

"Wait sto-" before Henry knew it he could feel the chair fall to the floor, his body crashing onto the concrete of the room. Had it always felt this cold in here? What was this liquid seeping from his chest? Just before his vision could fade out, he could make out a figure across the room, blowing the smoke trails from his gun.

"Nighty night, Mr. Myers~ I appreciate your time." Jones giggled, catching himself in a joke. "Or well, what was left of it anyways."
Soon enough, Henry's eyes rolled lamely to the side. Death fully taking it's hold...