“Strangle Hold”
Characters: AerynxDean, Ketch, Mary
Words: 1,154
Summery: Aeryn’s standing guard over Toni while Dean and Mary are connected via the mind meld machine. She catches Ketch before he gets into the library.
Warnings: None other canon blood
I paced near Toni Bevel, gun in hand. She was secured by handcuffs in a chair. The amount of trust I had in her not escaping was non existent. Especially since Dean and Mary were hooked up to the mind meld machine. There was no chance I was going to leave them alone with someone that wanted us dead.
Bevel shifted in the chair and I glanced at her.
“Would it kill you to get me a cushion?” she asked.
“No. I like to see you suffer just a little.” I still didn’t like her abducting Sam and tormenting him.
Something squeaked from beyond a door way. My stomach twisted. There should only be four people in the Bunker; two on the mind meld machine, one cuffed to a chair, and myself. I was the only one free to roam. With a tightened hold on my handgun, I dared to move from Bevel.
There had been times I hunted alone, the one year after Skull Cemetery and when the Leviathian Dick Roman exploded. This time was different; there was no back up. No rescue. Whoever managed to sneak into the Bunker could not reach Dean and Mary.
My head turned ever so slightly; sensing someone to my left. A fist connected hard to an eye. That would be a black eye and a possible broken orbital socket.
The hit sent me back off my feet. A second came before I could recover.
The man, had to be with the strength behind the hit, knocked my gun out of my hand.
“I should have removed you months ago,” a voice with a British accent said.
Ketch.
He never was a fan, having spoken a few times I should have taken on more of a support role instead of hunting with the boys.
I was the unwanted hunter in the eyes of the British.
I straightened, fists coming up as I did so. I feinted right, feinted left, and managed contact with the right. Ketch stumbled back a couple steps. He wasn’t able to recover as I linebacked charged him against the wall. There was a gasp of air against my hair when the breath was knocked out of Ketch. I managed a couple hits to his face.
He managed to free himself, throwing me off of him. I couldn’t let him get to Dean and Mary. I hadn’t cared much for Mary given what she had done, leaving the boys and working with the British. But Sam and Dean deserved to have her.
My knee threatened to buckle as I stumbled, and Ketch seemed to have noticed. A small smirk flashed before he kicked out.
A scream ripped from my throat as I crumbled to the floor. Ketch moved from the hallway. I couldn’t move even when I heard his and Bevel’s voices from the library before a gargle came.
Shit.
Groaning as I worked my way to the wall for support, my leg protested being used as I gained my feet. My knee threatened to buckle in that first step from the wall as a fight started. A table shattered from someone being thrown into it.
Ketch spoke something about Dean getting Mary back. I charged as fast as I could toward Ketch.
“That is not how this ends,” Ketch said. “This ends with me ending you.”
I didn’t make it before he and Dean threw punches, with Ketch having the upper hand. One of his punches throwing Dean to the floor.
“You know what your mother said about you,” Ketch continued, oblivious to me half stalking him. “All those long days and even longer nights?”
My leg giving out just at the right time in my charge as Ketch reached down for Dean. I wasn’t expecting to do much.
Ketch threw me to the ground.
“Don’t you dare…” Dean threatened right before a table leg smashed into my knee.
A scream tore from my throat at impact. There wasn’t a second hit as Dean grunted in his attack against Ketch. The pain washed over my body even as I reached out to an intact chair, using it to pull myself to my feet. I willed my body to move faster than what my knee was willing to give.
I charged Ketch in a linebacker way, failing when my knee buckled. He caught me, spinning me around where I could see Dean, and wrapped his left arm around me.
“Damn man’s psycho,” I called out. I struggled against Ketch’s hold, unable to free myself. “Leaving us in the Bunker. Wasn’t aware he was stupid.”
“I may be many things,” Ketch said as I felt cool metal against the side of my head. “But I’m not stupid.”
Dean’s expression went from defeat to barely contained anger. Someone threatened his family member. There had been a time I hadn’t earned that. Hell, I earned that anger when I told him about my Death Sight. Now I was family. I had earned is protection.
My hands instinctively went to Ketch’s arm; one hand accidentally grabbing his. My eyes went wide as a scene overlaid what I saw; Ketch on his knees right before his head went back from the force of a gun shot.
A shot echoed in the library right before a burning sensation registered on my right shoulder. Ketch released his hold, and I scrambled away from him even as Dean caught me.
“Mom?” It was a whisper. Dean helped me over to where Mary stood, kicking Ketch’s gun away.
When I looked at Ketch, he was on his knees, shocked to see Mary training her gun on him.
“I knew…” he grunted. “I knew you were a killer. All three of you.”
“Damn straight,” I replied. I jolted into Dean when Mary let out a single shot into Ketch’s head.
“De…” I barely got out before collapsing.
“Aeryn.” Dean eased me to the floor. He directed Mary to grab items while holding me. “Stay with me.”
“You look how I feel. Like shit.”
That got a meager smile. “Think you can get up into a chair?”
With the adrenaline gone, my body protested any movement as Dean helped me into a chair. Mary returned with medical supplies, which Dean dug into.
I hissed when the first of the antibiotic ointment touched an open wound. I brushed his hair out of the one on his forehead. His hands slowed. He didn’t look up.
“Dean.” My voice was soft, my throat sore from the screams.
He looked up, tears in his eyes. One escaped down a cheek.
“Help me to the showers,” I requested. “Get this blood off me.”
Rushed boots echoed in the Bunker as I gained my feet; supported by Dean. Sam came into view, worry on his face. Worry that washed away when he saw the thee of us no worse for wear. He came over and pulled us all into a hug.
i dont want a childproofed internet i am almost 30 fucking years old. give your kid an internet safety talk and stop making it the problem of every adult on the planet every time some cryptkeeper legislator gets the brilliant idea (via conservative lobbying) to push through yet another bill gutting our access to free expression + increasing the powers of the surveillance state + lining the pockets of Big Data in the name of Protecting The Kids they wont even feed. this shit is exhausting i can’t believe we’re going to be fighting about it for the rest of my life
I couldn’t sleep, so I slipped into the library and curled up on an armchair with a book in hand. Dressed in a three x shirt that barely covered my boy shorts underwear, my legs were tucked to the side under me.
The book nearly did its job in luring me to sleep when I heard the light shuffle of bare feet on the floor. With the late hour, it could easily be Dean heading for the kitchen for a late night snack.
The light must drawn him like a moth.
“Come back to bed, Sweetheart.” Dean’s voice was husky with sleep.
“I couldn’t sleep.” I glanced up at Dean, not fully looking up from the book. Old nightmares had crept up recently.
“What’s wrong?” He walked over and lightly kissed my head. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Stupid unicorns fighting rainbows,” I muttered.
Dean knelt down with a worried expression. I hardly use the code words for nightmares and how bad they were. We were all bad about not talking about our feelings and what was bothering us, yet for me to speak about it was a sign that I was about to crash.
“We’ll take a vacation,” Dean began. “Just us.” A course hand started lightly rubbing a leg. “Some place warm.”
The idea was tempting, yet with what money? Even with us using one-star motels, we were few hundred dollars short of a good vacation I wanted. His hand moved up my thigh, teasing its way up to my boy shorts.
“That’s...a good idea,” I breathed when the hand worked its way between my legs, the middle finger pushing against the fabric. “When do we leave?”
“In the morning. I got the perfect place already picked out. Just pack a swimsuit and a change of clothes.”
“I don’t...have a ... swimsuit.”
“All the better.”
I shifted, knocking the book down from the armrest, unfolding my legs from under me.
Dean adjusted his hand, the pressure increased slightly against the boy shorts as he sought out my clit.
“If we’re to leave...” My words drifted away as Dean settled between my legs, hands lightly tracing their way up my inner thighs. “...We should leave soon. Leave...note...Sam.”
Fingertips brushed against the hem of my boy shorts and a light breath filtered through the fabric. “Sam’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.” Dean pulled my boy shorts down, my hips lifted on their own to make it easier. “I wanna take care of you.”
A finger probed at my entrance, as if it was ensuring I was slick enough before continuing. A second finger joined the first and found that spot right behind the front of my pubic bone.
A relieved moan escaped as my body slumped back in a way that opened my legs more. My hands slipped up under my shirt and teased my nipples, working them into a tensed hardness that would take being sucked on to ease the tension. My vaginal muscles worked against Dean’s fingers even as he added working a thumb against my clit. Hips thrusted against his hand as I struggled to reach a climax. The small part of me that wasn’t needing the release that an orgasm brought knew that Dean was drawing it out; trying to make it last.
I didn’t need it drawn out. I needed it now.
“Dean,” I moaned, vagina working as hips thrusted.
The fingers pulled free as both hands came to rest on my hips; fingers dug into them right before pulling them to the edge of the chair. His mouth latched onto my clit, sucking on it while the tip of his tongue swirled around it.
He knew what he was doing. All those years of paying attention to what drove women and kept them going for hours paid off. Dean would ensure I had my orgasm first before worrying about having his own pleasure.
A couple of fingers slipped back into my vagina; it clamping down on them. Dean’s free hand slid up my abdomen and cupped a breast, squeezing it.
“Dean,” I moaned, my hips thrusting against his mouth. “So...”
He pulled away and looked up at me. “I want to see you when you come,” he said, voice husky with his own lust. His breath cooled my wet skin when he spoke.
The two fingers that were in me pushed further in, the tips putting just enough pressure on my walls to have me throw my head back in pleasure. My body using the chair to prop myself up in the need for release. My toes curled against the cool tile floor.
“That’s it,” Dean coaxed. “Come for me.” The hand that was on my breast moved to a thigh. “Let me see that glow.”
Fuck. I needed that orgasm; the one only Dean could bring about. One...Two...Three hip thrusts timed with his fingers working against my vaginal walls came before they clamped down around the fingers.
A groan escaped when my body spasmed from the orgasm and rush of endorphins coursed through my body. Eventually my body relaxed and a pair of hands roamed over me. His tongue lightly lapped at the juices that slid from my vagina.
“You taste so good, Sweetheart,” he muttered.
“Dean.” I propped up to look down at him.
His gaze met mine with a need in his eyes. Whatever he saw in my eyes had him standing and picking me up. My legs wrapped around his waist and the obvious bludge rubbed against my sensitive clit. We bumped into a table, and I sat on the edge. Dean’s hand slipped between us before the faint noise of a zipper being undone hit my ears. My hands joined his hand to undo his belt and the button that held up his jeans. His hand freed his tightly strung dick and rubbed it against my still slick vagina.
My legs pulled him toward him, needing to have his girth grinding against me. He didn’t resist as he guided himself into my slick entrance; a groan escaping from him. We remained still for a moment, somehow content being connected. Dean started pumping, ensuring he didn’t fully pull out. My hips tilted forward for more stimulation. Groans were muffled in the attempt not to be too loud. It was the downside of having a shared living space. The Bunker was spacious, but noise echoed.
“Aeryn,” Dean moaned before he tensed, burying his face in the crook of my neck; moaning into it.
A second, less tense, orgasm passed through my body as Dean filled me with seed. My head fell forward and rested against Dean’s body. Fuck. I missed having the raw passionate sex sessions with Dean. The thought of finding a decent hotel room just for the two of us where we could go all night.
“Come on,” Dean said, freeing himself from me; tucking himself back into his jeans and buttoning it up. “We’ll continue this in my room.”
Dean brushed up against me while I sat reading up on the case. It was one of his ways he got my attention. I ignored it. He had made his decision a year ago between me and Lisa. I really didn’t blame him as Ben did in a way act and look like Dean. Yet there was that hurt. That same hurt wasn’t there when I met Cassie. Hell, I prefer Cassie over Lisa. There was something about Lisa that grated my nerves.
Dean brushed up me again, trying to get my attention. I shifted away from him.
“What’s up with you?” he asked, a little hurt.
“I’m trying to read this case.”
“That’s not it. You’ve never minded ...”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
I sighed and turned to face him. “You don’t get it. Other than my pcos, we were good. Hell, we could have settled down together after Skull Cemetery. Yet, you decided on Lisa. Now that Lisa and Ben’s memories have been wiped due to them being captured by demons, you fell back to me. It’s not fair to me or them that I’m the second choice. You need to earn whatever trust and build whatever’s left of our relationship back up.”
Dean slumped a little, hurt by my words. Some guilt bubbled up seeing him hurt, yet I had to voice my feelings. I respected their relationship enough and valued myself enough not to lower myself to being a second so soon after what happened. He straightened in the way someone mentally came to a decision after working it out.
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
He’s promised a lot in the five years we’ve hunted together. This was the one promise I didn’t put much stock into.
“How can I trust that when you ran after Lisa when we discussed life after it all?”
The plans we half made in the cheap motel after a night of end of the world sex had dissipated the night Dean knocked on Lisa’s door. I didn’t bother going after him. I had gone to Bobby’s until I got my own place.
Dean pulled away, hurt I tossed that in his face. “You’ve met…”
“Yeah, I’ve met them. There’s a chance that Ben could be yours. There’s also a chance he’s someone else’s.” I got up from the chair, needing space from Dean. “It’s gonna take time, Dean.”
I walked out of the safe house, needing more space from Dean. There had been a glimmer of hope of having a normal life, back before he came to get me to chase after John and Tyler. Now we’re haunted by the memory of Lisa and Ben.
I pulled up close to the house and turned the engine off. Cold started to seep into the car as I sat there debating if I actually wanted to head into the house or not. My financials weren’t enough to rent out a motel room and food for the next few weeks. There was another car I didn’t recognize. With the car getting chilled, I climbed out and grabbed my things from the trunk.
Knocking first, given how I didn’t call Bobby and he would most likely be at the door with a shotgun aimed at my body. Easing the door open, I came face to face with Bobby holding a shotgun at me. He lowered it with a look of relief.
“Damn it, Kid,” he said, half cursing me. “Call next time.”
“Sorry, Bobby. I was trying to beat the snowstorm.” I held up a six pack. “I got more out in the car.”
Bobby stared at me for a moment, as if he was pondering letting me into the house. He lowered the shotgun. “Take it you chickened out going to check on Dean?” He turned back into the house.
I followed suit, putting the beer down on the counter. “Why put myself through that torture? He made his decision.” I pulled out a beer and opened; taking a good drink of the piss water.
Bobby reached out and pulled the bottle from me once it came away from my mouth. “Enough of that. You're not going to be here and drown your sorrows. Go get comfortable then come help sort through papers.”
I eyed the beer on the counter before trudging upstairs to change. It was the small luxury that Bobby gave me when we all started coming around more often in the past five years. “A break from the boys,” he said.
“You sure about letting her stay?” a voice asked as I came downstairs. It took me a minute to recognize it was Rufus. “She’s been in her own place for months. Hell, Bobby. She’s been out of the life for six months.”
“I know, Rufus. I couldn’t turn her away. We’re due for a storm and I didn’t want her freezing or starving.”
I came into the living room just as Rufus turned and took a look. “Hi, Rufus.”
I stood next to Bobby as I watched Dean drive away. It had been a couple days since the events at Skull Cementary and the two of us talked. More like Dean said he was going to Lisa’s. I refused to speak to him after that. After all our talks of settling down after ending the apocalypse, he decided that Lisa and Ben were a better option than me. In a way, I didn’t blame him, yet with all the shared trauma and events we’ve been through, it hurt.
“Come on in, Kid,” Bobby invited. He turned back for the house.
The dust kicked up by Baby dissipated as Dean disappeared down the road, taking any hope that I had he’d turn around with him. If he didn’t wanna be with me, fine. I couldn’t force him to be with him.
Bobby didn’t push the issue over the next few days while I helped him field calls from other hunters and ran local cases. Eventually I started looking for normal jobs, ones that didn’t risk my life. Bobby used some connections to secure a line cook job in town. One that paid enough for a small one-bedroom apartment. It was more than I could want in the past five years. That first night I was unable to sleep. It was hard being on my own.
The door barely closed behind me when Dean was on me in anger; Bobby a step behind him in a failed attempt to hold him back. My back was against the door and Dean was a step and a half away from me.
“Where’ve you been?” Dean demanded. “I coulda…”
“Taking care of personal things,” I snipped. “Gods forbid I get some actual medical care.”
“The apocalypse is here and you’re dealing with medical issues.”
“Yes, Dean.” I pushed off the door and into Dean’s personal space. “Dealing with medical issues.”
“What issues required you to go alone?”
“Female issues.”
Dean huffed.
“Get off, Dean. You don’t need to know everything about me. I’ll say this, have you ever thought how many times we’ve gone at it or I’ve had a one night stand and I’ve never had a scare after I took a test?”
The expression that passed over Dean’s face as he was able to piece together the information.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, kid?” Bobby asked.
“That I’m infertile? No, I’m not. My hormones are all fucked up. Even if I did wanna have kids, it’d be difficult.”
“So what?” Dean asked, shrugging it off. “It means more ...” He drifted off from a look from Bobby.
“Is that why you made that doctor’s visit?” the older hunter asked.
I plopped into a kitchen chair. “Yeah. Says I have poly cystic ovary syndrome. My ovaries produce the follicles for the eggs but don’t die off or release the egg. Too much testosterone is being produced.” I sighed. “Go, have your fun, Dean. Have your white picket fence.”
I sat on the table, trying to hold the gown closed while my legs swung lightly. There was a knock at the door before the obstetrician walked in with my file.
“Hello, Ms. Kelly,” she greeted. “I hear that you have some concerns about your menstrual cycles.”
I sighed, preparing myself to open up to someone about my worries. “Yes. I’ve noticed in the past year or two that I’ve had irregular cycles and despite my diet not changing much and regular exercise. I don’t know what’s causing it.”
“Well, what’s your daily life like? And how active are you?”
“I run about every other day when not driving across country. I do occult and supernatural studies and how crowd mentality is affected.” It was close enough to the truth. “Healthy meats and veggies and fruits. Once in a while I do have a burger or something like it.” She didn’t need to know how often I ran after or from monsters. “There’s been a few days that I’ve craved sweets and binged. Feeling bloated and tired afterwards.”
“Well, I have taken a look at your ultrasound, and there are cysts in your ovaries. Between that and your other symptoms, I’m confident in saying you have poly cystic ovary syndrome. Basically your hormones are unbalanced, leading to the irregular cycles, possible thin hair patches, and the sweet cravings. There’s medications we can try…”
It explained so much. Why when I was tired even with six hours of sleep, all the exercise I still felt overweight, and the months between cycles.
“I’ll think on the medications, doc,” I said. “My life’s a little chaotic at the moment.”
“Understandable. Call me if you want to discuss medications. Any questions?”
I shook my head. “I think that’s it.”
“If you do, feel free to call.” She saw herself out, leaving me to dress and check out.
My body hurt. I was aware of that before I was fully conscious. Fragments of memories from the past few weeks leaked forward. The missing kids. The masked vampires. Jenny, the woman that had been turned by the vampires seventeen years ago. The attempt to hold me as a hostage to get Sam and Dean. The fight in the barn. Nearly getting caught on the piece of rebar. Somehow getting the kids and myself to a hospital before passing out. Consciousness came and went during that hospital visit where I barely registered voices. Getting discharged and being helped into a vehicle, using a person for comfort during the drive. Being helped out and to a bathroom to be wiped down and changed into clean clothes.
My eyes squeezed tight as the barn fight replayed. As if that would make the image disappear. The more the fight continued in that slow way dreams seemed to take, the more my body moved.
The vamp was determined to impale me on that rebar. Every time I slip out from its grasp, the fight restarts. I fought against the hands that shook me. Everything screamed it was the vampire as it drove me backward.
My eyes shot open as a scream tore from my throat just before impact on the rebar. Fists connected with a pillow even as I struggled to free myself. My body tangled in something as I rode the panic induced adrenaline rush, pushing myself against the floor. Seconds passed like minutes due to the adrenaline before it started to come down.
When the panic eased, I took glances around my surroundings. Queen bed, messed up covers, bed room. It was one of the spare rooms in Jody’s place. I heard muffled voices through the mostly closed door. Not wanting to be alone with the lingering thoughts, I worked myself off the mattress, stumbling and catching myself on the dresser. Once stable, I caught sight of me in the mirror. It reflected numerous bruises, cuts and other half healed wounds. Those were partially covered by a well worn oversized tee shirt that ended a little too short and a pair of clean boxers.
I was a complete mess. There’s been hunts were I had injuries and walked away. Not like this. Something told me that it was time to retire.
My right arm was wrapped around my body as I left the room, using the walls for support. Of all the fights and battles, including the one against Amara, this one against the vampires messed me up on a whole new level.
“…out for two days,” Dean finished as I came out into the living room.
I paused just inside of the hall entryway, not ready to be seen and watched Dean pace while Sam seemed to be unsure how to comfort him. Dean had about two weeks worth of stubble and his usual short hair had grown out. Even Sam had some stubble. There was little chance that the vamp hunt took three weeks. There’s no way I lost track of that length of time.
Sam’s eyes flicked over Dean’s shoulder and widened just as Dean stopped and followed his gaze.
He rushed over before I could limp two steps forward. A leg buckled just as Dean reached me. He caught me and eased me down to the floor, going with me. He pulled me close, cradling me. “You should be resting.” His voice was soft.
A hand grasped his shirt and my face buried into his chest. “Don’t make me try and sleep. I ca...can’t.”
“Shhh. You’re safe here. We’ll stay here as long as you need.” Dean adjusted so he leaned against the wall, his arms wrapped around me as if he minded a large wound on my back.
Sam moved around the house in a way he was gathering items. I ignored him for the most part, merely relived to be safe and not dealing with a new nightmare. He stopped by once and offered Dean something. I moaned from being shifted slightly when Dean adjusted a little. He gave a soft shh and I closed my eyes.
“Hey, Aeryn.” A hand rested on my right arm. Sam waited until my eyes opened. He had medical supplies between us. “I need to take a look at your back.”
“Do we need to do that now?” Dean half argued? “She’s stressed out...”
“I’m right here.” I attempted to push away from him. “What’s wrong with my back?”
They shared a look before Sam sighed and pulled out his phone. Seconds later he showed a picture of my back from when I was in the hospital.
My upper back looked like some failed attempt of a bloody eagle. A ragged gash dragged from my spine to the right side of my back. Dried blood still clung to my skin and what was left of my shirt had been cut away and barely covered my chest. No wonder my back was on fire. I could have died.
“Help me with the shirt.” I managed my left arm easily enough; partially aware I wasn’t wearing a bra. At this point after everything we’ve been through for nearly two decades, I didn’t care. The number of times we’ve all spent patching each outer up numbed me from avoiding certain body parts.
Dean’s hands brushed against my lower back and sides as he helped lift the rest of the shirt up and over my head. A hiss escaped when the fabric brushed against the bandages. The shirt was quickly pressed against my chest as Dean attempted to preserve any sense of decency I could have. The medical tape pulled at my skin as Sam began. The gauze was gently peeled away. Sam stopped for a moment before showing me a picture how my back currently looked. Still fresh and red, the gash had been stitched together.
“We’ll take all the time you need,” Dean said as Sam applied a cool ointment and fresh gauze.
“I’m done hunting.” It was a whisper. If it hadn’t been for Sam slowing a fraction, I would have sworn neither heard me.
“We’ll take...”
“I’m done hunting,” I cut him off, louder. “I could have died.”
“Okay,” Dean said after a few seconds. “Oh. Sam; bring the test results.”
I adjusted against Dean as Sam brought over a small stack of papers; handing them to me.
“Think a three bedroom house is too big?” Dean asked as my eyes fell on the highlighted results. “I figure we have about eight months to get ready.”
As someone who grew up with "I'm not going to praise you for doing what's expected of you; that's not being good, that's doing the bare minimum" I want to encourage you to celebrate every little thing you can. Everything that takes energy and effort should be appreciated and you're allowed to be happy about trying.
So, let me guess– you just started a new book, right? And you’re stumped. You have no idea how much an AK47 goes for nowadays. I get ya, cousin. Tough world we live in. A writer’s gotta know, but them NSA hounds are after ya 24/7. I know, cousin, I know. If there was only a way to find out all of this rather edgy information without getting yourself in trouble…
You’re in luck, cousin. I have just the thing for ya.
It’s called Havocscope. It’s got information and prices for all sorts of edgy information. Ever wondered how much cocaine costs by the gram, or how much a kidney sells for, or (worst of all) how much it costs to hire an assassin?
I got your back, cousin. Just head over to Havocscope.
((PS: In case you’re wondering, Havocscope is a database full of information regarding the criminal underworld. The information you will find there has been taken from newspapers and police reports. It’s perfectly legal, no need to worry about the NSA hounds, cousin ;p))
Want more writerly content? Follow maxkirin.tumblr.com!
“Below are selected prices that are paid to professional assassins by criminal organizations and drug cartels for a contract hit.
In Australia, the median price to hire a hit man is $13,610 (9,800 Euros), with the price going up to $83,000 (60,000 Euros) based on the task.
In Mexico, the cost for a low level assassin is $208 (150 Euros), and up to $20,832 (15,000 Euros) for a higher profile target like a police chief.
The prices paid in Argentina are between $3,749 (2,700 Euros) to $5,555 (4,000 Euros) per hit.
Government statistics in Spain state that 40 assassinations take place each year, with prices for the hit ranging between $27 (20 Euros) to $69,000 (50,000 Euros).”
So cheap! I always thought things like this would cost more than $1 million…
