He's Mine | Viktuuri/Otayuri Oneshots

An Assassin's Pledge | Otayuri | Part 1

assassin
noun | as·sas·sin\ə-ˈsa-sən\

: a person who commits murder; especially : one who murders a politically important person either for hire or from fanatical motives.

hit man
noun

: a professional assassin who works for a crime syndicate

There were rules to being an assassin, and ever since he was employed, Otabek Altin had not broken a single one.

Each mission was flawlessly performed with the simplest steps; load your sniper, eye the target, and pull the trigger. As soon as that bullet came flying from the barrel, death was there to do his job. He was recognized and nicknamed as the Grim Reaper of the Dark Horse organization, the top assassin that had never made a mistake. He was a thief, but instead of valuables, he stole lives.

Before Otabek got recruited, the company had his memory of his past life erased. His family was relocated, his loved ones forgot about him over time. Otabek had no idea if he even had a family, a significant other, or a home, but that didn't matter anymore. What mattered was his job, his missions.  Whoever he was before was dead. Not just to his close companions, but to the world. Nobody must know who Otabek Altin was before.

He strided through the busy roads of Russia, which was his next assigned location.

"Talk to me," He said lowly as he held the device to his ear. He gripped his suitcase with one hand, which didn't really contain clothes. Unless you count an M8-2A1 as garments. He pushed through the busy crowds of Russia as he heard the response of his boss resonate from the phone's speaker.

"His name is Yurio Plisetsky. 19 years old. Professional Hitman. Take him down."

"Affirmative."

He activated the self destruct protocol on the device and chucked it into the ocean, seeing as he was walking by a bridge. He heard the surprised gasps by the people as he nonchalantly threw what looked like a phone over the railings.

19 years old, huh? Otabek had been assigned to kill young ones before, even newborns, but they were usually heirs to a Mafia. So they didn't really have a special treatment. When he had missions like that, Otabek simply made sure he would strike at the vitals. But only to make sure that they die painlessly, since he still had some sort of mercy left in him.

A hitman. Otabek has dealt with hitmen before, and they were all usually easy targets when he found out when they were most vulnerable, and he had no problem taking care of the job. Despite them being professionals, their skills and knowledge were deemed useless if they couldn't even avoid their own assassination. But not every mission was the same, some knew they were being targeted, but Otabek would still manage to catch up to them quickly.

But that was merely once. And this boy was 19, surely, he hasn't had much experience to know about his assassination yet.

Otabek entered the building where he was supposed to set up his sniper. He looked over by the corner and saw a sleek black car, the car that would serve as his get away if he was going to be pursued. He ran to the very top floor, where nobody was going to bother him. He checked his watch to see if his target was nearby, and sure enough, he was. The tracker was working perfectly. His location indicated that his target was directly outside the building. Otabek opened his suitcase to reveal the beautiful sleek black sniper, and a tiny smirk appeared on his lips. Such beauty was meant to be held by the best.

This weapon had taken so many lives, had witnessed so many deaths. Otabek saw this as a waltz. His sniper, was the fair, graceful maiden that would manage to leave him breathless every time he came across with it. It left him with adrenaline coursing through his veins, as he danced with death.