It is a common assumption among many people of the mafia world that marriage, or indeed, anything resembling true love meets with painful ends. I've seen love been used as a weakness, and I've used it as a potential weapon myself. I always assumed that love was not something meant for me, and the farthest it went would be  a one-nighter every now and then. But nothing prepared me for the biggest temptation I've ever faced in my career, and I understand better how it must have felt to (former) mafioso.

The new system of job accepting is infinitely better in terms of strategy and protection of secrets thought Wraith, as he strode down one of those long, narrow alleys where garbage was more in sight than the actual road but a very big pain in the back for the one getting the job. But still, considering the almost embarrassing situation that had happened around a week ago, it was a small price to pay for the good of the family. Which was all very noble to think of, but made the big pain no less smaller.

"Ah, what the heck," he muttered, and gave his surroundings a scrutinizing glance, before splitting open the plain manila envelope. In the inside was the same spidery crawl that he had seen every time. The details of the envelope were very short and to the point. It mentioned a name, Hayley DeVries, her address which was just a few streets away, her physical features and a P.S at the very end requesting him to give her a one-way ticket. He sighed. Another Saturday spoiled. While killing didn't bother him emotionally, it was always irritating to escape from the scene of a crime.

While he had done dozens of devious killings with such skill that no one had even noticed the dead before it as a while, the point of these kind of local killings were to make an impression. And impression implied big hole in the centre of the head, lots of splattered blood, a few pedestrians screaming, while yours truly tried covering his face with a very small collar of a brown overcoat while trying to get away. What's more, this killing had to be done at her home. Compressed space to escape in, but more time for street walkers to rush in too.

Well, might as well get going he thought, walking through the streets casually. A pickpocket sliding his unfortunate hand into his overcoat pocket met with a very modern mousetrap and later, a knife at his throat. People said that psychotic killers had odd sense of humor. Perhaps that explained why he was so fond of catching pickpockets with them. As it was, a dispirited looking red building proclaimed itself to be a shelter for orphans, and from the melancholy looking doors was descending a harried looking woman with a few strands of dark blonde hair sticking out of her bun.

She resembled a beautiful white lily in the middle of a muddy swamp.

(To be continued)

It's rare that I listen to stories that have been written and are being delivered here on the streets. However, having listened to the first sentence of it, I found myself drawn in and reading on. Very good intro, it's pleasing to see a skillful bit of work coming to surface, such as this.

He munched on some popcorn, unaware that half of it was making its way onto his shirt and the floor, and pulled up his chair a little more.  He was sitting on the corner, watching the performance before him.  It was an impressive monologue, drew him in quite nicely, and then it just stopped.  Will looked around and Wraith was gone. 

Hmm.  Must've taken a break.  I have to say, I've seen quite a bit of street theater these days.  Some of it isn't bad.  This particular performance was pretty good.  I can't wait to see more.  And I wonder how much is true to life.  Does this beautiful Lilly really exist and will Wraith heartlessly cut her down like he's done so many times in the past?  It will be interesting to see.

He grabbed another handful of popcorn, chomped away, and sipped his Dr Pepper...waiting for more.

Wraith exhaled deeply. Something about this woman was different, and his fingers twitched on the trigger if his gun. The best course of action was to kill this woman right now, before even the smallest possibility arose that his determination might falter. But the instructions had been crystal clear: Kill her at her house. Do it tonight. Two things which told him that he had to follow her for about six hours before killing her. Sighing, he ran a hand through his spiked hair and followed Hayley DeVries on what would be the last day of her life. And for some reason, the thought sent something fluttering within him.

Well, if I'm gonna follow her for half a day, I might as well spend it with her thought his sadistic self and he immediately thought up a plan to do so. The easiest, and best way to gain trust was to act like a hero. He cast his eyes around for someone he knew and spotted Lefty the purse snatcher. "Small favors," he muttered, heading towards Lefty, and in the next five minutes, everything happened: right from the lady in question screaming as her handbag was snatched away, to the heroic man catching the thief, and then letting the thief go after making him repent his 'wrong' ways.

The little drama off a five cent romance novel ended with him being treated to a coffee by Hayley. She was even more beautiful up close, with curly black lashes, beautiful blond hair and good figure. And what was more, she responded to his flirting with even more of them, and he had no problem convincing her to talk a walk with him. On the way, he realized that something was wrong. Her eyes were nervous and darting, despite the smile she almost always wore, and her fingers twitched - the classic signs of painful anxiety.

Just as they reached the other end of the park, she suddenly dragged him to a bench at the very end.

"What is it?," he asked.

"Nothing special. I just wanted to sit here for a while," she smiled warmly. And then, in an even softer voice,"You eyes are so...cold and empty."

It was a statement. Probably a true one. After all, emotions didn't lead anywhere except right into the barrel of a gun, or worse. He shrugged, and look into the distance. 

"You seem pretty nervous yourself," he remarked, if only to get her mind off his eyes. And despite whatever would be happening in the night, he was enjoying the present very much.

"Well-," she started to reply but any reason that would have been forthcoming was cut off by a gun going off. Bang!

An entire piece of the bench was blown off. Shit, a shotgun he thought as his instincts kicked into action. He grabbed Hayley and then ran off into the forest at the centre of the path, bending low and switching directions to prevent any enemy from getting a clear aim on him. Hayley was less agile, and more of a burden as she flopped around behind him. He glanced back once they had reached the canopy of trees. There were five of them, and he recognized them from the local thugs gang.

What the fuck is their leader thinking? he wondered. The reward must have been very large for them to mess with his Family. That and guaranteed protection. So what the hell did Hayley have to offer them? While he was involved in such thoughts, a moisture on the ground caught his attention.

It was crimson red and came from Hayley's stomach. Her face was white and her hand trembled as she grabbed him for support and slowly slid to the ground.