It was cold outside, cold enough that every time his took a breath, he could see it in little white puffs of smoke. His finger was hovering over the trigger waiting for the right moment to pull it. The sooner that he was able too, the sooner that he was able to go inside, get warm, wrap his hands up where they didn’t feel like they were about to fall off from being frozen.
But he couldn’t rush this, not when he was so close to finally ending it all.
He’s been tracking the kid for weeks now, following him, learning him, studying him. Getting to know the stuff he does, when he does it. When he was with friends. When he was alone. The cleaner the kill, the easier it was to get away.
He never asks questions about the people he is sent after. That’s not his place. All he knows is a name and an approximate location where that person is. It’s not like it would matter in the long run, if he knew anything about the person. It was his job, to get rid of the people his employers wanted him to get rid of.
So he would wait, looking through the scope of his rifle from where he was perched on the rooftop and wait for the moment that Samuel Winchester would walk into his line of fire.
thirty words in thirty days audaciousdean vs. @call-888-8sparky word #8: mercenary; dean was taken at a young age and was trained to become a ruthless, cold-blooded creature. his whole life has been leading up to this moment, to kill the boy with the hazel eyes.