Hitman Howell

The Hitman

Dan Howell has always been a trier. All his life he has lived by the rule that he should not give up. For example, when he was approached by a shady gang in an alleyway, offering a great pay for a gruesome action, he refused to chicken out. That was a long time ago, though. Dan has learned a lot from being in his "position". He was known in his childhood neighborhood for being a bit angry. He used this on inanimate objects and sometimes even people. He was considered good at what he did and he was not going to throw it all away now.
              He had just finished up on a recent assignment and was currently dragging the body to the furnace he knew was behind the crafts store. He heaved the body up effortlessly, smiling as he closed the gate and turned it on. He turned around and adjusted his mask, clapping  his hands together once quietly as he walked out of the crime scene. Once he was almost a mile away from the burning body, he took off his mask. He knew people got suspicious when he was in it too long. He jerked his hair out of his eyes, glancing across the street to a group of adults laughing in a group of friends. He turned away quickly, scoffing at the idea that he wanted friends. His job was his friend. That's all he needed. At least thats what he thought.
            He arrived at his apartment door, taking a deep breath as he heard the soft click of the door open as he turned the key. He slipped inside and locked the door behind him. He lived alone, as a hit man would. He went into his room and sat on his bed, which was placed by the window. He made himself comfortable by it and stared outwards, into the busy streets of London. He saw people laughing and smiling, people starting at their phones, people who looked sad. He turned away from the glass and reached for his laptop, opening it up to check for more assignments he needed to complete. As he expected, there was a couple he was required to complete in the next 5 weeks. He clicked on the first one, reading the name of the person he was sent after. His secluded organization was disguised as a news outlet, so when he clicked onto their website to look for the name on file, he went the way only the staff could go. He typed in his login and searched the name, which was Cade Hart. In this section, he could see everything he needed to know, so he could make the kill in the easiest and quickest way possible. He analyzed and memorized his personality and address, then shut  his laptop and put it aside. He looked towards the window again, staring down at the sidewalk full of people.
One of Dan's favorite hobbies was people watching. He could always tell lots of information about the person in just by studying the expression on their faces. So when he saw a tall, black haired guy walk past his apartment building, he knew by the grin on his face that he was probably going to meet up with friends. He watched him walk all the way to the edge of the street, and not surprisingly, he began to wave at a group of laughing adults. Dan sometimes wished he had friends. No, No he didn't. He was a Hitman. Hitman have no friends. No friends means no Accomplices. Meaning a more difficult case if it ever came to him getting caught.
         He didn't choose his job. But he didn't hate it, either. He did what he could to sustain himself. There wasn't much else he could do. He was specifically told, relationships meant heartbreak at some time or other. He'd chosen to avoid it. He sighed, leaning back against his bed frame and staring at the ceiling.  He wondered what his mother would say if she knew. Would she be angry? disappointed? afraid? These past few weeks, he had been an anonymous killer in the media. He was responsible for nearly all the kills in london. He was almost proud of himself. If his Mum found out, he had no idea how she'd react. But he didn't have  to worry about that, he'd never tell her. He glanced out the window at the tall black haired man once more, who was sitting across the street at a cafe, in a group of friends. He looked happy. Before he was met with his job, dan had believed that happiness was the purpose of life. Maybe he still believed it, but it was locked up in a back compartment of his mind. He killed without mercy. He didn't take joy in it, he merely did his job.
Maybe you'd shout, "Dan! have you no morals? how far would you go to keep food on the table?" All he'd reply with is silence, maybe a shrug. He doesn't really know why he let this happen to him. Reputation? Peer pressure? Fear ? Adrenaline? Maybe he'd never know. All he knew is that this was his life now. No turning back now. His pride couldn't live with knowing he gave up. He got up from his bed, the mattress creaking as it was relieved of his weight. He walked into the kitchen, opening the cupboards and looking for a snack. He lived alone, of course, and as he made his coffee he stared into his living room from the kitchen. Everything was silent, save for the sips he took from his cup. He let his mind wander, imagining of the raven haired fellow living here with him. Would he be sitting in the living room now? He shook the thought from his head. He couldn't let himself imagine things like that. He was fine living alone. Makes things easier. He wouldn't have a secret to keep from said roommate. Having finished his drink, he walked into his living room and sat on his couch, lost in thought.