||FINISHED|| Pink Roses (JSAB Fresh x Reader)

Just Mobsters and Organised Crime Preview

By driving around the area on their motorcycle that morning and estimating the amount of time it would take for Sparrow to get to the main overpass where they wanted him - It'll take approximately seven minutes. The large concrete construct that reached over the buildings below was wide, accompanied by several green hills in the distance. Cars rolled by one by one at 100 kilometres per hour. At this point in time, traffic wasn't too terrible, it was relatively empty, in fact. They zoned out to the sound of the construction site behind them.

Tetra licked their lips. They had some time to kill. By now, they would assume that Sparrow had left his office and to the carpark.

Bored, Tetra took out their wallet and extracted a folded up photograph, and a drawing.

The photograph was the person that Tetra loved. His messy, bedridden periwinkle blue hair always was a charm point for their beloved Trist, and his love for oversized sweaters just added to it. Tetra smiled as they admired the sweet, mellow, warm expression on his face. Eyes closed, lips beaming with a amiable smile that instantly provoked a protective feeling within anyone who looked at him. Too innocent. Too pure. Too motherly and kind compared to Tetra, who kills without remorse. The drawing they pulled out was a picture of them that Trist had drawn. He sells his art online, and frankly, Tetra could see why. The Tetra in the drawing was crouched, aiming a sniper rifle at a would-be victim. Trist draws - Tetra kills. One paints beautiful pictures on white canvases with red paint, the other sends bullets into brains and paints the streets with red blood. They sighed as they admired his soft, dimpled face.

The assassin simply known as "Cyan" was tiny in stature. So tiny they could buy clothes from the children section in department stores. Real name Tetragon, they always preferred Tetra, always preferred "They" over "He" or "She". In fact, it's extremely hard to tell their birth gender. Their small stature and large, square-shaped eyes gave a feminine energy, but their flat chest and subtle peach pit in their neck proved otherwise. And don't get me started on their voice. Their voice makes things so much harder. Their skin was a greyish blue, a dull contrast to the brightly coloured Cyan hair, bangs cropped just above the eyebrow, which they adopted their nickname from.

But of course, their clients don't know that. Nobody knows their true hair colour. Right now in the unpredictable autumn weather, Tetra was wearing a beanie that obscured the beautiful colour of their hair, as well as a pair of sunglasses and a smog mask commonly worn by those of Asian descent. Fitting tightly but not restrictively over their torso was a sleeveless black tank top with a dark blue trench coat over it, pockets stuffed with bullets. Even though they only needed two. A scarf with alternating shades of blue covered their neck, it was like a good luck charm, what they usually wore during missions. Given to them by a certain childhood sweetheart by the name of Trist. With it, was a pair of earmuffs to prevent hearing loss sitting idly on their neck. Although they didn't really care about the daggers that sunk themselves into their ears whenever they pull the trigger, it definitely felt nice to keep their hearing. Their thick leggings were connected to a pair of brown combat boots. Assassins don't usually engage in hand-to-hand combat, but it was good to be prepared in case someone comes in and sees them. That's why they had a belt filled with knives. They could throw one and it'll land right in the middle of someone's chest or neck without even looking behind them. And besides, there's only one person who can sneak up on Tetra without them knowing.

And the person standing in the doorway behind them definitely wasn't him.

Trying not to provoke the attention of the presence that Tetra had picked up, Tetra reached into their belt, and took out a knife in such a subtle way that the person behind them wouldn't suspect a thing. And then, with a smooth, swift turn and a flick of a wrist, a knife whizzed through the air and sunk itself into the chest of the person in the doorway.