Sitting on the side of the hotel bed with his coat hanging across the footboard, the hitman exhales a long breath as he runs his fingers through his still drying hair.  The hair that is starting to show traces of grey from the stress and the long years he had endured in this thankless profession.  In his mind, as he always does on the day of a “hit”, he runs back over everything in progression associated with the latest mark.

It all started three weeks earlier when he had been contacted through his protected network that allowed him to remain anonymous to even his employers.  This allowed him the luxury of working for any of the Godfather’s for resolving issues with other families, but periodically, within their own family if someone had fallen from grace and the Godfather didn’t want blood on his hands.  A few days later, a phone call at a predetermined time left the hitman regretting ever taking this assignment.

When the Godfather picked up the receiver, there was no pleasantness in his voice “Are you available for a contract?”

The hitman replied “Yes, need a name and a city”.

“He’s in Manhattan, NY.  His name is Cyrus_Bean.  He WAS my accountant.  That’s all you need to know except for one more thing”.

With a pause on the line, the hitman could hear the tinkle of ice inside of glass, visualizing the Godfather taking a drink of some type of liquor.  The Godfather continued “I want his death public.  I want his to be an example.”

Instantly on edge, the Hitman replied “That isn’t how I work.”

The Godfather obviously wasn’t in the mood to be questioned as he exploded “God damn you gutter rat, you will do what I tell you to do.  Do you hear me?”

With no change in his tempo, the Hitman reiterated “That isn’t how I work.  And you have no control over me.  You want it your way, you do it yourself and you don’t need me.”

Hearing a deep exhalation, the Godfather in a much calmer voice says “I’ll triple the pay on this one.  This son of a bitch thinks he can steal my money and I won’t notice.”

There is a long pause before the Hitman responds “That isn’t how I work”.  Unfortunately, the thought of $1.5M subconsciously found it’s way into his voice as the statement came out less reassured and more like a question.

This wasn’t lost on the Godfather as he responds “Five times the normal pay.  You can do it any way you want, but I want it public.”

After several seconds of silence, the Hitman responded “The normal terms don’t apply.  I want half deposited in the normal fashion.  Then in approximately three weeks, I will send you a message for when the other half will need to be deposited.  I WILL NOT finish this if the final deposit isn’t cleared.  Do we have an agreement?”

With rising anger again in his voice “Listen here gutter rat, I’m not paying you ANYTHING until the job is done!”

With a calm voice once again and fully in control, the Hitman states “My terms and this conversation is over.  Your choice” and then click as he hung up the phone.  Visualizing the fury of a scorned Godfather on the other end of a dead line, the Hitman allowed the briefest of smiles to cross his face.

Two days later, once again through his protected network, he received confirmation that $1.25M had been deposited and then distributed to the various hidden accounts he managed.  Twenty four hours later, he was standing in Manhattan, NY reading a paper outside of the local mafia HQ.

With information coming in from his network of intelligence along with a few local greased hands, Cyrus_Bean had been located.  Within a few more days, the Hitman had his home location, what type of vehicle he drove, and had started to watch his habitual daily routine.  Blending into the crowd, the Hitman even followed him to church on Sunday.

Watching the accountant over the duration of two weeks, the Hitman had noted to himself three different consistencies.  First was Cyrus_Bean always parking at HQ around 7:30am, then walking around the block to grab a paper before returning to the mafia office location.  Second was the daily lunch at the local deli.  The deli shop owner even had the sandwich prepared and in a paperbag in preparation for the consistent accountant at exactly 12:15pm each day.   Both of these were public, but left the Hitman severely exposed and would most likely get him killed in the process.  But the last had some real promise.  Seems the accountant felt the need to visit the confessional each Sunday after service.

Having developed the ability to quickly and quietly pick a door lock had proven priceless over the years.  Tonight was no exception.  Just after midnight, the Hitman had entered the church through a locked down around back.  While the front entrance always remained open, after hours, a bell would be attached to the door that would alert the afterhours staff that someone had entered.  The Hitman didn’t want anyone to know about his presence at the church.  A few hours later and just as the Hitman had expected, a point of execution had been determined.

The following day, the Godfather received a phone call from the Hitman with the date of the hit. 

The Godfather questioned “Now how in the hell am I supposed to deposit that type of money on a Saturday?”

The hitman responded in his once again monotone calm voice “Not my problem.  If the money isn’t deposited before midnight on Saturday, then the hit is cancelled.”

With anxiety in his voice “And if it’s cancelled, I better get my money back you son of a bitch!”

Remaining calm, the Hitman stated “No refund.  Make the deposit happen” then click.  Once again, the visual of a red faced Godfather filled his mine and brought out that grin. 

Now, sitting on the side of his bed, the Hitman was waiting for a phone call.  Then the call came.  A sultry voice on the other end confirmed that a grump bank manager had confirmed that the remainder of the money had been deposited.  Without saying a word, the Hitman simply hung up the phone and reached for his jacket.  Across his back in two holsters were his favorite custom made revolvers, Colt 1911 in 0.38 Super Caliber.  Then bending down and padding the outside of his calves for verification, his hands touched the custom stiletto on his right side and the compact Colt 0.25 caliber pistol on his left.

An hour later, closing the recently lock picked door quietly, the Hitman was in the church.  Moving without a single sound, the Hitman made his way into his planned hiding location and settled in for the evening.

Several hours later, the muffled sounds of a large crowd stirring was the trigger that the Hitman needed.  Moving out of concealment, he moved to stand behind heavy drapes that covered the large windows in the Catholic Minister’s private quarters.  This was also directly across from the door that provided the only access to the confessional’s secluded area used exclusively by the minister.

Minutes passed and the muffled noises of the large church service was tapering down.  Then the Hitman’s heart begins to race as he hears the click of a door latch, followed by a door opening and closing, then the clatter of a deadbolt lock being activated.  Footsteps could be heard moving across the room and then a closet door being opened only a few feet from where the Hitman was hiding.  The Hitman slowly moved his head around to see the Catholic Minister was facing the closet exposing his back and was in the process of removing his ceremonial attire.  Quietly and with purpose, the Hitman poured chloroform from a vial onto a rag in his hands and then moved behind the elderly clergyman.  With a quick move, the Hitman placed the rag over both the mouth and nose of the surprised man and the other arm around the man’s neck, pulling him backwards and onto a rug that ornated the center of the room.  The elderly clergy man was no match for the Hitman or the chloroform and succumbed in seconds.  Gently lying the man on the floor, the Hitman murmured “Forgive me father, for I have sinned.  And lucky for you, you’re not my target today!”

Moving to the door that opened into the private confessional area, the Hitman stepped in and took a seat before closing the door partially, leaving only the slightest gap for easy opening and a fast exit from the confined space.  Listening and as expected, there was someone seated in the adjacent confessional area.  Bracing himself and mentally crossing his fingers, he opened the small confessional door that separated the two individuals.  As the Hitman had observed, the consistent accounted had made is way immediately to the confessional the last two Sunday’s to be first in line.  With a relief, the recognizable voice of the accountant began to speak “Forgive me Father for I have sinned.  While it has only been a week since my last confession….”  As the soon to be dead man talks, the Hitman quietly pulls one of his trusted revolvers from it’s holster.  From his vantage point, the silhouette of the accounted can be clearly identified through the privacy screen.  “I once again have had to tap into the coffers of the Godfather to pay off the debt owed to Tops.  I know I have promised to avoid gambling but…”  WACK, WACK, WACK.  Three quick shots directly to the heart area are followed by a scream of a woman that must have been waiting outside the confessional. 

The Hitman quickly exits the confined room, closing the door, and then makes his way along the planned escape route.  Just as he’s leaving the Minister’s private room, banging can be heard on the door that had the deadbolt lock.  Running quietly, the Hitman makes his way down a short hallway and then turns away from the door he had used to access the building.  Taking two steps at a time, the Hitman worked his way quickly down a staircase and into the basement.  During his previous night visit, the Hitman had discovered the entrance to a tunnel that provided access to an adjacent building.  Most likely used for smuggling drugs, the doors could only be opened from the church side which also meant that there was no going back if he ran into trouble.  Quickly putting his gun back in it’s holster, the Hitman made his way down the and across to the other building. 

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, the Hitman walked out into the brisk Manhattan air to the sounds of chaos ensued at the church.  Mocking a sign of concern, the Hitman asks a man and wife quickly walking away from the church “Any idea what happened?”  The woman covers her mouth and appears to be holding back tears when the man says “Someone was shot in the confessional.  Not sure who was shot, but there are men with guns searching the entire church.”  With that, the man and woman continued walking away.  And with another deep breath followed by a long slow exhale, the Hitman began walking away from the church and simply blended into the crowd.

As the Nameless Hitman arrived in Los Angeles for his next mark, climbing into a cab, he begins to reflect on the conversation with the Godfather.

Godfather: “Yes, I want that border crossing SOB shot between the eyes.  Nobody comes into my town, dumps 45 kilos of coke, and blows off making a donation to the Family.”

Hitman:  “I’ll be in LA soon.  I’ll let you know when it’s done”

Godfather: “Good news for you, he’ll be here Wednesday.  Seems that he’s trying to make another dump at the same massage parlor near downtown.  I don’t want blood on the families hands, but I want to send a message.  And I’ll take a discount on your price for helping you out and making your life easy.”  laughing

Hitman:  “Appreciate your tip, but the risk is all mine.  Price is the same as always.”

Godfather:  “You’re a mother fucker, you know that.  But you’re worth the money.  Get it done”

With a click of the phone being hung up, the mark became a dead man walking. 

Minutes after entering the cab, the Hitman is standing out on the street across from the downtown massage parlor.  Holding a large black suitcase, he surveys up and down the street.  With a trained eye, it doesn’t take long for him to spot a prime location.  A half block down the road is a local dive hotel that should be the perfect vantage point.

Requesting a room facing the skyline of the city and also with a perfect view of the massage parlor from the unassuming clerk behind the counter, the Hitman makes his way to the third floor. 

While normally an operation that takes weeks of preparation and research, with the information provided by the Godfather along with a detailed description of exactly the time and dress of the mark, the Hitman was going to gamble with a quick kill on this assignment.

Assembling his Springfield M1903 Sniper Rifle and loading the 30.06 shells into the chamber, the time for the mark’s arrival was growing near.  Cracking open the window just enough to allow full view of the street below, the Hitman patiently waited.

Watching below, he spotted Heimdall walking down the street from the west in a brown suit and a black briefcase, just as described.  He walked confidently and obviously wasn’t in a hurry as he stopped long enough to buy a paper from one of the local stands.  The Hitman takes aim, focusing on the requested shot “between the eyes”.

Then the Hitman notices movement out of the corner of the scope lens and lifts up so he can see what is going on near the mark.  Watching things unfold, he sees a man walk up behind the mark and reach inside his coat.  Pulling out a revolver, he brings it to the back of Heimdall’s head and pulls the trigger.  The mark drops to the ground and the attacker grabs the briefcase and runs to a nearby alley before disappearing behind a building.

Shaking his head, he needs to report the news to the Godfather.  And with a deep breath, plans to return the deposit as he didn’t complete his job.

The Hitman walked through the crowded farmer’s market, tailing his mark from a distance.  He’d been contacted a week ago by Don LuciousLyon from Pioneer Square and brought under contract.  From the limited history the Don was willing to share, one of the crew had started stepping outside the line, but being high ranking, didn’t want blood on the Families hands.  The Don wanted the mark to disappear before bringing the fed’s down on any of the other family members.

The Hitman was on full alert.  While concerned about being made, there was something odd about not only the behavior of the mark, but also something else.  Watching the Coppa move through the crowd, the Hitman began to watch the crowd also.

Then he saw the Jacket.  Coppa was being tailed by another.  Unsure if this was another hitman or something else, the Hitman slowly drifted back to allow more distance between himself and the Jacket.  Watching carefully, it became clear that the newest player was not skilled at the tailing game as too much focus was on the mark with no attempt to disguise his intent.

Coming to the end of the vendors booths, Coppa grabbed an apple and handed a coin to the merchant before turning toward the parking lot.  Slipping carefully between two of the both, the Hitman reappeared next to a vendor’s flatbed truck just as Coppa moved into the open area of the parking lot.  But something had changed.  With a final bite of his apple, the mark through the core onto the ground and began to quickly walk toward an occupied police car on the opposite side of the lot.

The Jacket was keeping pace, but ducking between cars, crouching down to avoid being seen should Coppa turn around, but was making no attempt to remain hidden from the Hitman.  Coppa moved up to the side of the occupied car, stepped back, and to the Hitman’s surprise, pulled his gun in one fluid motion.  Pointing the gun at the officer in the car, Coppa pulled the trigger and the glass shatter at the same instant a spray of blood covers the far passenger window.

A second later, a booming voice comes from the Jacket “Freeze!  This is the Feds.  Put your hands in the air!”  Coppa, surprised by the quick response, turns with gun in hand toward the direction of the voice.  The Jacket, or now exposed FBN Agent, has his gun out and the second loud WACK is heard by the patrons of the market within seconds of each other.

While untrained in stealth, the FBN was either really lucky or had spent considerable time at the  range.  The bullet struck the turning Coppa directly in the right eye socket and the mark was dead before he hit the ground.  A delayed scream could be heard from behind the Hitman as one of the market customer’s reacted to the multiple gunshots.  Having watched the incident unfold, the Hitman took a deep breathe before turning and walking away.

Reflecting in preparation of his phone call to @LusciousLyon to report his findings, the Hitman was at a loss as to why Coppa had killed the officer.  As the Hitman had learned long ago, dead men can never explain why.

The Nameless Hitman tails his mark as they walk along the downtown streets of Seattle.  Having recently returned to action after lying low for a few months when one of his family betrayed him, it felt good to be back on the hunt.  Different name, different face, but the same deadly skills were on the hunt and his prey was just ahead, buying a newspaper from the corner merchant.

Having received a message through his secured routes from Coltrane, the hitman had accepted the assignment with reservation.  He had known the Mark in the past and had a mutual respect for his position in the Family.  But having fallen from the grace of the prominent Godfather was his death sentence.  Godfather Coltrane was known for his ruthless nature for any that crossed him and apparently one of his family had made that mistake.

With the newspaper folded and under his right arm, the Mark jogged across the street and headed into a small vacant park that had a view of the bay.  He quickly made a line for a bench as seagulls culled above and a light breeze blew in off the ocean.  Sitting down, he opened the paper, and immediately flipped to the sports section and began intently reading an article about the Chicago Cubs.  With the noise of the birds along with industrial type sounds coming from the nearby shipyard, the Mark never heard the footsteps of the Nameless Hitman approaching from behind.

Pulling a long ornate dirk from the back of his belt, the Nameless Hitman approached the seated Donkeypunch and slid a hand around to cover his mouth.  With a quick thrust, the dirk was plunged into the temple of the Made Man’s head and with a quick spin of the wrist, the body immediately went limp, arms falling to the dead man’s side.  With the wind coming in off the ocean, the newspaper fell over the deceased and with a slight adjustment by the killer, covered the victims face with the last section he had been reading.

Walking out of the park, the hitman blended into the crowd and disappeared.

Lying on a rooftop of a two story commercial building, the Nameless Hitman had a full view of park across the street.  The stage on the edge of the park had been erected the previous day and people gathered in preparation of the big announcement coming from the local well known crime lord.

Reflecting, he remembered phone call and the shock of the instructions.  Believing it to be a hoax or a setup, the voice on the other end had been true to their word and the money, double his normal fee, had been wired to his bank in advance.  Having been in this profession for many years and dealing with the ruthless nature of the crime world, not many things surprised him anymore.  But this phone call had.  It wasn't the money as he had made more.  It wasn't the advanced payment.  It was hearing a voice give instructions on how they wanted their own execution to unfold that shocked him.  This would be a first.  

The victim had provided all the details.  The location of the stage, a recommended vantage point that would be best for his concealment, the time of the rally, and even a cue for when he was to pull the trigger.  Having his location known left him on edge, but he had accepted the deal and would pay the consequences with his life if this was a setup.

Music playing brought him back to the present and he watched as a large black car pulled up to the side of the stage and the mark stepped from the car after two bodyguards had taken position on either side of the door.  The crowd taking notice, began crowding in closer to the stage as the mark walked up stairs on the side and over to the microphone.  

Fearing through his scope, he had an upclose look at the mark and she was stunning.  With a flawless complexion that disguised her age and the stress of her profession, she began to speak "Citizens of Philadelphia, thank you for coming to my rally.  I know many of you are expecting a big announcement and I'm here to leave a lasting memory that you will never forget.  Welcome to my execution!"  And with that, she looked directly back at the Nameless Hitman lying on the roof across the street.

With the agreed upon cue, he squeezed on the trigger and felt kick from his rifle and the bullet flew true to its target, ending the life of the well known crime lord.  Under his breath, the Nameless Hitman murmured "Goodbye Star, enjoy your afterlife"

Remorsefully, he watched his mark through the scope as he walked through the park and up to the railing, overlooking the Seattle bay front.  The Mark took a long drag on his cigar and a plum of smoke rose into the crisp morning air.  Seagulls could be heard along with the distant sound of a train horn.  

He had been hired by a prominent business man out of New York that was seeking revenge for the Mark's apparent seduction of his wife and was willing to pay a large sum for redemption.  When he had accepted the job, he had no idea who his Mark was, but simple knew he lived in Seattle and was a large black man.  Then as more information was provided, the Nameless Hitman was filled with dread as the Mark was clearly identified.  The Mark was a friend from his youth and they had remained close over the years.  The Nameless Hitman had prided himself in keeping business and personal lives completely separate.  And from a professional standpoint, once he accepted a job, he would find a way to complete it.  But the Mark was like family.

The man was slowly walking down the railing, appearing to be contemplating something as he continued to smoke his cigar.  With cross hairs fixed on the back of the Mark's head, the Nameless Hitman continued to track his target while he second guessed himself.  Consciously making the decision that would impact his reputation moving forward, he lowered the rifle and watched his childhood friend. 

As he watched, he saw JimboJunya toss his cigar out into the water and reach inside his overcoat.  His breathe stopped and the world seemed to stand still around him as he saw the mark pull out a gun and raise it to his head.  And then he heard the single gunshot.  He watched his childhood friend fall to the ground and felt an instant loss.  This great man had been a light in the darkness, a mentor to the young, and the Left Hand Man to Artie_Bucco.  Now he was gone.

As he put away his rifle away and walked toward his car, he was sure he could smell cigar smoke in the air and knew his friend was in a better place.

Watching from across the street, he watched his mark step from the car and walk toward the front door of the Italian restaurant, just as the informant had told him.  Marie_Lucania had entered the restaurant, arm in arm, with a name that the Namless Hitman had never seen before, but wasn't surprised at seeing.  He had been hired to kill the lover of the prominent Godmother by someone in the family, deeply concerned that if her husband found out about the affair, the result could be deadly.

His plan was to snipe the mark while he held open the door for Marie, knowing he would be stationary and an easy shot during the couple seconds of time.  While he was an expert at anticipation, he did not anticipate what happened in the coming minutes.

As he watched, several cars pulled up in front of the restaurant.  In unison, several individuals, armed and dangerous looking, run to either side of the entrance.  Then he sees him....The Godfather Chairman himself, stepping from a car, armed with his own revolver.  On cue, the gangsters rush into the restaurant and through windows, appear to be spreading own, aiming at numerous patrons.  Then he sees the Godfather walk directly over to a corner booth and take aim.  As he does, you see Marie rise up and stare defiantly into the muzzle, awaiting her fate.  After only a brief pause, her husband, Salvatore_Luciano pulls the trigger and Marie drops back down into the booth as a spray of blood covers the wall directly behind her.  

The Hitman watched in shock as the group of gangsters opened fire in the prominent Chicago eatery, beginning a massacre of masses.  Shaking his head, he thought Nothing is fair in love and war.