DISCLAIMER: Graphic description of blood/death.
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Firey watched Leafy leave, he watched until he was certain she was no where near the apartment.
He took the bag out of its hiding place, taking out the box and staring at the gun.
The mere sight of it put him on edge, he felt tingly.
The metal was cold and clean, it felt heavy in his hands.
Holding it felt so wrong but so right at the same time.
He shoved it into a duffel bag, along with the cleaning supplies he had been given by Four, everything was ready.
He dress in very basic clothing, unremarkable, no one would give him a second glance.
He wore a medical mask and a hoodie, hiding most of his face, his baggy clothes hid his body shape and he wore gloves so there would be no finger prints.
He left the apartment, checking the address as he stood on the path.
It was in a rich area of the city, as he expected.
He hopped on a bus that would drop him near the location but not directly there, he couldn't raise any suspicion.
Yes, he had a higher authority than a police man since he was doing work directly assigned by Secret Service but it was still illegal and it would reveal too much information to the public of word of this got out.
He wasn't above the law persay, but if he was taken to court, he would get off scot free, as he said, it would just give away too many things the service tried to keep hidden.
The evening had a pleasant warmth, he was way too warm with the hoodie and he would look out of place in such a well off area but it needed to be done.
He watched the people on the bus, none of them knew where he was going, what he was going to do and none of them knew he had a gun.
The idea of that was scary, someone just having a gun and not knowing.
He sighed as he imagined the people and their lives, living the, blissfully unaware that he was going to end a life.
He felt sick and tired, he wanted to go home.
A while later, the bus pulled into his stop, he thanked the driver as he got off and walked down the street.
The houses got bigger and nicer the further he went and he could tell he was close.
He saw a playground, the equipment was clean and we'll maintained. He watched the parents with their kids, none of them knew their neighbor would be laying in his own blood.
He wondered if they would tell their kids that their neighbor was dead or would they just ignore it? It probably depended on how close they were he assumed.
He pushed these thoughts out of his mind as he entered the building, using a key that had been stolen from Loser's bag a few weeks ago and as quietly as possible, he walked into the apartment.
It was fancy, to say the least. Everything was sleek and new and it looked really expensive, it suited Loser perfectly, he had never been shy about his "refined tastes".
Firey stood in the living room, fiddling with the gun and loading it, he ran his fingers along the cold metal and felt that disgusting emptiness he was becoming all too used to.
How was he going to do this?
It needed to be as clean as possible and it needed to be a surefire shot, in under no circumstances was Loser able to survive.
YOU ARE READING
Gone Without You
Fanfiction"You're supposed to be dead, I watched them bury you," She thought all of the hurt she felt had finally stopped, she thought she had finally moved on. But he had the audacity to come back. After everything she had been through, doesn't she deserve a...
