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It was a dark hotel room, situated at the edge of the building. All the lights were off, the curtains were all closed, and sitting on the floor behind the scope of an M40 sniper rifle were two people.
Aside from a few whiskey bottles and open flasks, the hotel room had not been touched.

Of the two people, one was male, the other female. The male had grey hair and bright green eyes. A silver locket hung from his neck, with a green jem inside it. Normally it was hidden inside his collared, button-up, black-sleeved and red-torso shirt. But it had found its way out earlier, as the girl had been playing with it. It glinted slightly in the dark room as the man adjusted the aim of the rifle. His hands wore fingerless gloves. It was clear this man had no sense of fashion. But, compared to the girl, he was well-dressed. His dress pants were black, as were his boots. Aside from his premature grey hair, the only thing that could be awkward about him was the fact that, below his belt, a dark brownish-grey, almost black tail of a dog waved about haphazardly in a semicircle.

The woman, her skin so pale it probably could reflect moonlight, swatted at it playfully. The both of them were drunk, but the man - Q - seemed to be holding himself much better than the girl. The girl was an albino; so her eyes were an ugly pink. She claimed to be a zombie, and worked at a night club for exotic fetishes. She was off for now, however. Her hair was a wild forest green, and cropped to just her ears. It was almost as if she never bothered to brush or wash it. The bright green didn't stop at her hair. She wore a grass skirt and strapless bra, as well. Both the same shade of green. One could only wonder what her favorite color may be? Her name was Meru.

Q sat up, holding the rifle in place. "Here," he said. His voice was raspy. He was young, but anyone who heard his voice could tell he had been smoking profusely for the better part of his life. His alcoholism probably didn't help matters. He turned his head to face Meru's. He had tanned skin, black "whisker" tattoos on the bottom of his cheeks, and a diagonal scar across his face, which he attempted to hide by having his grey hair cover one eye.

"What?" The girl was giggly but still hesitated, putting a hand to her chin. "But I didn't think you were serious!"

Q grunted slightly. "C'mon. I said I'd let you come with me since you bailed me out. I brought you. I have aimed for you. It is all ready. All you have to do is pull the trigger. It will be fun." It was as if he were talking to a child, almost. "You will see his brains splatter everywhere. Isn't that what zombies like? Brains?"

Even though Q was smirking, he was still all business. He exhaled loudly through his nose and let one of his hands wander from the gun, waving Meru over. She obliged, sitting herself behind the butt of the rifle. Q carefully made his way behind her, guiding her hands to the right places.

"So, look through the scope. What do you see?" he urged her.

"Uhmm..." Her high pitched voice was almost annoying in contrast to Q"s prickley deep one. "Two men in suits. One has a hat. The other one's bald." She giggled at the word bald.

"The two lines that meet in the middle, they're crosshairs. When that is on the head of the guy with that hat, just pull the trigger." He leaned into her back. "But take your face away from the scope before you shoot, or else you'll hurt yourself."

Meru nodded, breathing loudly. "Will I really get to see brains?"
Q narrowed his eyes, trying to see into the scope from the distance behind her. He couldn't see much. "Yes. But pay attention. If you wait too long I'll have to do this for you." His voice was stern, as if he were becoming annoyed. "She'll mess up the shot before too long," he thought to himself.

"Then no brains?" She asked, putting her face to the scope once more.
"No brains," Q repeated dryly. He placed one of his hands on Meru's left breast with a snicker.

She pulled the trigger, the knockback frightening her to a point where she jumped and gave out a small shout, falling back into Q, who laughed.
The window in front of them shattered, and with any luck, Meru had just killed the mayor of a neighboring town who had come to Dexterity for 'business'.
Q gave Meru's naughty bits a slight squeeze before grimacing and pushing the girl aside, making sure she had killed the target. They would have to pack up and move quickly either way, but he had to be sure.

Q looked through the scope, noticing that the mayor had, in fact, been killed. There were brains, and most importantly, a woman looking straight at him. Or was that the most important part? Q could see something at the edge of the scope move quickly. He couldn't tell what it was from sight, but he could guess. "s**t," he grumbled.

The woman looking toward the scope must be one of the bald man's goons. They were both standing together, though he didn't see her before this had gone down. Not even moments later he could hear stairs being climbed at a speedy pace. Q wasn't all human, the things that came with him allowed him slight advantages. Such as, good hearing. Although it helped he didn't blow out his eardrums like most others from loud music.

Regardless, that didn't matter right now. Q had to pack up his things and leave. He quickly began dismantling the removable parts of the rifle, and tossing them into the gun case. Meru looked worried. "What's going on?"

"Killing's the fun part. Running's the working part," Q hastily replied. The things were all in the case. He slammed it shut and clipped the two locks. He couldn't tell how many people were running up the stairs, but he was sure one was enough.

"Running?" Meru questioned. "Q, why are you--"

Q turned around, the case in one hand, and slapped her with his free hand. "Shut up and just follow me," he growled. "I guess I underestimated his guards,"

Q grabbed a pair of dark sunglasses from the floor and put them on his face before rushing out the door to the hotel room. Not the wisest exit, but he wasn't about to jump down three stories. He didn't have seven lives, here. Just one.

Meru was already lagging behind, and they weren't even completely out of the room yet. It was a mistake bringing her. Obviously this wasn't as easy an assignment as he had previously thought.
He stopped momentarily to look at her, then made the administrative decision and left her there. She couldn't run fast enough anyway.

The stairs were at the end of the hall, after the elevators. He rushed to the elevator and pushed both the up and down buttons. Whichever one came first would be fine.
It looked to the stairs, then the ********, I am an idiot!" he cursed to himself, kicking the elevator and running back down the hallway to his room, just as he could see out of his peripheral vision some shadow coming through the fire stairs' door...

He wasn't a cat, he was a dog. Dog's didn't have as good reflexes as cats. But he had no other choice at this point. Inside the room he went to the bathroom. He threw the gun case at the window with all the force he had, the window shattering outside. After kicking the wooden frame out he threw the case out the window. Climbing atop the toilet, he let himself go feet first out the window as well.
"Q, what are you doing?!" Meru screamed. She obviously didn't follow his reckless behavior, and stared at the window. It really was a mistake to bring her. She'd already said his name twice and she'd probably just look dumbfounded at his point of exit. What a stupid girl. She wasn't worth the money she was paid.

His feet hit the ground first, and immediately collapsed, rolling on his back with a groan of pain. He'd be surprised if his legs weren't broken. They didn't feel broken. But they did hurt like hell.
He grunted, trying to roll to his feet again before the others on the street noticed he had jumped from so high. He managed to get on his knees but the shock of the fall prevented him from doing much else. His legs felt like tree trunks. They just wouldn't move.
"This is what I get for not being born a cat," he mused to himself.

He'd have to hope he could recover before the others thought to look at the street corner.

Q's legs quivered involuntarily beneath him. He looked to the woman who now had a gun to his head. Then from where she came form.
"A rope," he thought. "Why didn't I think of that?"
This would be the last time he would underestimate such a mission. He shouldn't have drank and brought a whore along with him. He should've guessed that would be his downfall. For the second time, he mused. Oh, he couldn't do his business without his pleasure, could he?

His attention went back to the girl, who had him cornered. Q put his hands up slowly. "Ah, Sorry; sorry," he mustered. A genuine, thick french accent came from him. He hoped she would believe he knew little english. Sometimes, people pitied foreigners. Innocent contractors, foreigners were. They did their deed and they left.

Q was on his knees and this woman had now cocked the gun. Oh s**t, he was dead, wasn't he?

Why did this man have so many guards? This was not supposed to happen. This was not supposed to happen. What had his contractor done??

"Ah...." Q tried to come up with something to get out of this. "I do not understand..." he let it hang, his accent still thick.

Put his brains on the pavement? He didn't want to go out from a woman.. His gun case was beside him. Maybe he could grab it... He flexed his leg muscles. Perhaps he could move... But the gun was already cocked. He feared he wouldn't be fast enough. Maybe if he just waited this out, he would have an opening.

Q frowned, staring at the woman, trying to feign ignorance from behind his dark sunglasses.

His eyes, but not his head moved to the new man who entered the scene. He looked vaguely familiar now that Q could see him up close. It felt like Q should know him, and it wasn't just because he'd seen the man through the scope earlier. But he couldn't place it. His hidden green eyes went back to the woman. There was still no opening.

The man had called the woman Cassandra. Cassandra. What an interesting name. His eyes went back to the name. Cassandra sounded like a name he should've known.

"S...Sorry," he became genuinely flustered. How the hell was he going to get out of this?
"My english is... No good?" he offered, his mouth forming into a nervous frown. He would've bitten his lip, but he feared that would give away a bit much. His dark tail pressed up against his leg, as if to hide it.

Please, he thought to himself. If ever there were a God...

Q was becoming more nervous as time went by. Sweat began to form on his forehead. The situation was looking more grim by the second.

The man came up to his face, and Q fought his instinct to lean backward. Luckily he won over that instinct, however his arms began to shake minutely the second Marino's name came up.

Of course Q knew who Marino was. Everyone knew who Marino was. Marino practically ran the city, and Cassandra was... his...
Cassandra was...

Q's mouth opened in horror.
A slew of cusswords filled his head, both in French and english, as the man was filled with shock on the death warrant he'd just unwillingly signed. He almost wanted to cry. He was in the business he was in-- which was low budget kills -- to avoid people like this. To slip under the radar. His contractor must've lied and given him a hit that was of far more value than Q would normally go for.

If he ever lived through this, that guy was going to ******** die.

It took a very long, painful few seconds for Q to wrap his mind around how he could get out of this. The door was opening for his demise, wider and wider.. He had to do something.

"I... Am..." he was struggling, his accent still quite thick, but it seemed to falter as Q tried to think of what to say as he was saying it. Not a very great plan.

He dropped the act completely, having to come up with something quick; something sincere sounding. He couldn't ******** this up. "If I had known the man was doing business with you, sir, I would not have taken the shot."

His voice, now much less foreign, began to speak quicker as the sweat beaded on his forehead. "Sir, I did not know. This was a grave mistake on my behalf. There is no way I could possibly..." His mind grasped for the right words. He couldn't find what he wanted. He made due.
".. repay you for what I have done. There is no way I could correctly..." His brain was stumbling now. Although he could speak without an accent, his brain still mostly thought in french. He was stressed; panicking. English words were flying away from him and out of his grasp.

Thank god for synonyms. "...show you, sir, how truly sorry I am that this... Atrocity has happened."

It was all lies. Q hated Marino just like anyone else, but he wanted to keep his life. He wanted to get out of this somehow without actually begging for mercy. Marino's face in his own wasn't making this situation easier to deal with.

The twenty five year old closed his mouth and clenched his teeth, preparing to be hit, or shot, or worse. Marino's reputation preceeded him. Q was a nobody in this town.

Q became unnerved, wincing slightly at the laugh and opening his green eyes behind the sunglasses. He didn't get this man. He didn't get him at all.

But he was Marino. Nobody ever "got" big wigs, did they?

He very slowly put his hands down to the street, his head dipping, unsure of what to do. It was a nice day, but... Working for Marino?

Still, there was a chance he could get away later. Even if Marino had planned to kill hima fter whatever Q was asked to do in retribution, it still gave Q more time to come up with some sort of plan to escape from this. There was nothing stopping him from simply skipping town again. His time was almost up here, anyway. It'd already been a few months...

"Of... Of course..." Q faltered again. Marino greatly intimidated him, especially with however many people were pointing their guns at him. Having the odds stacked in your favor greatly escalated their intimidation factor, after all.

"...Whatever you want... Sir..." His tail twitched near his leg slightly. Q did not like this at all. But he didn't have any friends here. If it was simply killing someone else, Q should be able to do it...

The bead of sweat finally escaped his forehead, dropping into Q's left eye. He blinked behind his glasses, grimacing slightly.