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Prologue

Withdrawing his hand from it's connection point on the wall, Gregory swung his auburn bangs from his forehead and propped his black, square-framed glasses from his nose to where they belonged. A look of disgust sported on his face, showing contempt for the windows in front of his eyes. I really should look into getting contacts, he thought, turning back and throwing his last dart, not at the dartboard with the other two, but rather the photo on the wall. The dart pierced the glass and stuck in the framed woman's forehead, and Gregory wished that it was the real thing, and that he could watch the blood seep from her forehead... that he could watch her die.

"I'm gonna ******** that b***h." He spat, walking over to retrieve the stray dart and threw it with force back at the dartboard, hitting the triple ring of the eleven. The other party in the room, accompanying himself with a practice game of billiards, one Xavier Cross, chuckled bemused to himself and struck the cue ball, knocking the two ball into one of the center pockets.

"Hope you don't mind hepatitis." He chuckled. The quote came from the game Saint's Row, a personal favorite of the two, and usually brought chuckles to both of them. But there was no good-humored laughing from Gregory, but rather solemn silence. In a fit of rage, he threw his darts at the photo as hard as he could, all three leaving the one hand at the same time. Xavier shook his head. "You really need to calm down, brah." he said, taking out a packet of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his jacket, passing one to Gregory. He eagerly accepted, taking one of the Next Gold King-sized cigarettes and lit up, exhaling a silver stream of smoke.

As he smoked, he contemplated why he was so angry. Why, indeed. The girl in the photo looked innocent enough, but she had the looks that killed. She was a young girl, about eighteen, with long blonde hair, straight as a ruler, and a face so perfect it made him wonder if it was legal. But something didn't sit right about her. Something about this girl made her dangerous. She had to be; why else would the Legends put a hit on her?

"So whaddya think's gonna happen?" Gregory asked, breaking the silence and flicking the ashes onto the floor of the apartment. About a day ago, Gregory was sent on a simple hit-and-run mission, to take out the girl in the photo. The Legends would take care of everything that happened after; Gregory just had to complete the job.

However, something went wrong... the bus that Gregory was supposed to hijack was an hour late. It seemed to be no big deal; everything just had to be set back an hour. However, when Gregory stepped on the bus, he found out that she had gotten off a few blocks back, and had driven the rest of the way in an unmarked car. There were no clues or leads after that.

There was a cough and a shrug in response. "Who the ******** knows." Xavier responded before flicking the ashes into a nearby ashtray. A cellphone rang in Xavier's pocket. "Yo... uh huh... uh huh... alright. Got it. X out." The conversation was short and to the point... typical Xavier style. "You've gotta go see The Head Man, Greg. He don't sound none too happy, either."

Gregory sighed and stood up, brushing the ashes from his jeans and headed out the door, slamming it behind him. The room seemed to shake; he had slammed it with such force. Such force, in fact, that the picture of the girl fell from it's hook on the wall and the glass shattered on the floor. Xavier grimaced. "Aw hell. Now I gotta clean up this s**t alone."

Yup, I'm stuck. Writer's block and all that. [ sadface ]