𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗕𝗥𝗘 5.8k / rated t, ongoing, no-powers, spies & assassins
He wears this conviction like hairsheep gloves, supple and stylish Cabretta leather wrapping magnificently around the handle of a gun. He wears this certainty like a fine bespoke suit, and it has never failed him, because the world is simple, because he has made it so. He gets a name; he gets several. From the age of 15, he has received them, and he's made quick work of them, regardless of age, gender or trade. Usually, he doesn't give them time to think or pray, and in consequence, he's known as merciful, but that speaks more of his sense of efficiency than his compassion, another common mistake. Sometimes he fails to make it quick, but those are oversights. He sees a man hold a ring to his lips and speak in hushed murmurs. He sees a woman ask him why, why, why, in between pitiful cries. He sees an old man sigh at the mere sight of him. He never has time to wonder, because he has already given them too much time. The bullet is impartial, it never asks any questions and it never answers them.
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