Prologue

The souls that I've stolen,

The path that I've chosen,

Have never been my choice,

But just pure instincts.

-Sean Faith

Eyes glazed over when the man before him dropped to his kneels weakly, a red substance gushing about while inching in every direction. Blood spurts from his mouth and wounds he tries to breath through the liquid, but fails in his desperation. Though a small cut was the reason for this calamity, it was placed near a very special artery that held access to the man’s precious supply of life. It wasn’t long till those timeless seconds ran out and he was faced with the gates of choosing.

The man only watches in mild interest till the form of what used to be a human being was now a lump that reeked of death. Grinning, he took a minuet to admire over his work before wiping his blade, ridding of any drops of the scarlet liquid that had stuck to it. His features remaining ever so pleased with his job.

“I was hoping you’d be a little more careful about killing him with a clean swipe but that’s just asking to much isn’t it?” A voice rose from behind him, stepping cautiously next to the man within the dim lighted room.

Through the specks of light you could make out a classy business suit with personalized pants, a pair of expensive shoes, and a darkened grin that completed his assemble. He rubs his thick red bread as he walks past the murderer, chuckling as he looms over the dead silhouette.

Suddenly he began to kick it then stops, looking over to see if it was moving. Seeing no life he kicks it again and repeats like so, His chuckle becoming louder as his eyes show slight fragments of insanity.

“Look at you, not talking any more aren’t cha? Haha! No more crap say right bud? Can’t ya speak? Nope guess you cant. Cause your just dead!!” The craze man rants on, repeatedly kicking the lifeless body as though half expecting it to rise and fight back, but instead it just remains ever so still. It’s solemn face never showing any trace of feeling from each hit it took.

‘Its people like him who make this world seem much more hideous..well I don’t care as long as I get my pay.’ The assassin murmurs under his breath, gazing onward as insanity takes over the man to his right.

“My job is done here.” The assassin reports lazily, seeing the man discontinue his onslaught on the body.

“What? You expect me to clean this up myself?” He questions in exasperation, dropping his now soaked shoes to the floor facing the other.

“My job is clear. You call. I kill the target. It’s a done deal.” The assassin says with indifference, his eyes never swaying from the flustered man.

“I asked you to kill him, but you wont get paid without helping me first. If you want your money that is..” He snickers at the last part, knowing that was the only reason the assassin bothered to kill victims in the first place.

“Shouldn’t it satisfy you that he’s dead?” The killer inquires apathetically, leaning his back against the cold bricks that lay waist within the abandon building. At one time this place was probably a very beautiful hotel that attracted many visitors back in its prime. Yet now here it lies to waist in the Manhattan sun, decaying every so silently with whispers of its once glorious past.

“Yes, but I also need help disposing the body! If you don’t, you won’t get the money!” The other states while patting a pocket on his chest; a little tan envelope peeking out from it container as the man snickers once again. The sound of a light buzzing echoes slightly through the dense air, causing both the killer and the man to freeze their movements.

“What is that?” The man inquires scarcely, his brown eyes showing wild wonder. The assassin only shook his head in dismay at the man’s behavior as he silently pulls out a trivial object that has cause the interruption.

“My phone.” flipping it open, he takes his sweet time raising it to his ear, listening to the silence on the other line.

“Who is it?” The man snaps impatiently, anxious to know whether it was the cops or not.

“A friend.” He breaths, fighting the urge to break the man’s wind pips before him. Said man only snorts to this response.

“Oh good grief, tell him that your busy, I need help here!” He waves his hand into the body’s direction with a slender look of nervousness. This man had obviously been feed with a sliver spoon as a child for he didn’t like to do things himself.

“Fine” was all the assassin says and listens to the other line once again, waiting for the other’s reply.

“Is he dead?” A cold whisper hisses harshly on the other line, making the killer glance back before replying to the person on the other side of the line.

“Hold that thought.” Still griping the phone near his ear, he quickly pulls out his knife from his left boot, making sure to watch the man who was too busy cleaning the body before him at all times.

Strolling over, he could see that the bleeding from the body has finally stopped thanks to a cloth the other has place on his neck and stomach.

“Such a bloody job to do..how can you work like this?” The man grunts through his teeth, trying very hard not to destroy any more of the displace stomach that the assassin had found so necessary to kill the man. Even though the small slit on his neck would have done the job well enough.

Shrugging, the killer only continues to walk casually, nearing the man while keeping his blade hidden from his view.

‘To easy..’ he thinks to himself, mentally planning out the mans destruction before him.

Halting to a stop, he towers over the man with blank features. To bad the man was too dense to even know something was up.

“Well are you going to stand there or are you going to-“ he was cut off shortly when he felt something jab into his heart with cold steal, making his breath loss within the self-clasping lungs that were drowning within the blood that spills from his detached veins.

Weakly turning he felt the blade leave his body and, within seconds fell face first to the floor. He was never able to choke out a cry before the body was completely shutdown from blood loss.

“Nighty night.” He utters in a sing along fashion, smirking as he leans down and gladly took the envelope from the body.

Returning his attention to the phone, he dialed back to the recent caller, waiting till the sound of ringing haunted his hearing.

“Well?” It demands grimly, only making the assassins smirk turn to a wide grin.

“Yeah..” he replies, kicking the dead man in the chest with his boots.

“He wont be moving any more.”

A/N: Ello ello. this little story plot got stuck in my mind and I wanted to know what you though of it. shall I continue or not? Oh and only this chapter had gruesome parts. the next won’t hold any or much violence. Maybe in later chapters to for thrill but I don’t know yet.