Vicente hated the subway system in New York.

Just…hated it.

Why couldn’t people stay up top, where they belonged? Who thought it was a good idea to link trains together underground and have them travel at fast speeds? Why were people in this city such in a rush get from point A to point B? Just walk!! It’s not that hard. Simply place one foot in front of the other and keep repeating the pattern until you get to where you want to go. The biggest dullard could figure out that combination.

The assassin huffed a little as someone passing brushed roughly against his shoulder. They turned back to apologize.

Vicente narrowed his eyes in response.

The antagonizing bumper squeaked quickly dashed away to catch his next train.

Idiots. the assassin muttered.

It was not that the man was claustrophobic or anything. He one had to lay cramped into a garbage dumpster for hours before his target arrived. So the man obviously had no problem with spaces. What he had a problem with was the irritating throng of people who bumped and nudged against each other in a very small, very cramped space. It was done with very little apology as if their faux-pas was absolutely no problem.

But to him…it was.

Maybe it was because he was simply not a touchy, feely person, but he did not like to be touched. And he definitely did not like it when people were rude while in the process. But…unfortunately this descent into the underworld of New York was a necessity.

Standing in the back, resting against the wall, the assassin sighed as he stuffed his hands into his trenchcoat pockets. He was dressed rater imposingly in simple a black shirt and coat, none of which really hid his overly muscular physique but seemed almost to accentuate it. His dark blue, jean clad legs rested easily as he propped himself against a wall, his boots crunching the loose mortar and miniscule bits of trash beneath his heels.

He was only here because his next target was a frequent user of the subway and he needed to get the pattern down. After all, to make a clean kill, he needed to be able to get the pattern down. There was no room for mistakes in this line of work, obviously.

But this was going to be difficult. The woman didn’t ride at night. She was rarely without friends. The subway was too enclosed to make a quick getaway or be subtle.

He sighed.

He hated the subway…

The scent of old piss, booze, and a number of vagrants filled the air as Warren descended into the underground public transit system of New York. Much like that of Paris it reeked, with layers of graffiti painted on the walls and various unspeakable stains and other ‘deposits’ plastered to the grey brick. Even the hand rails were suspect in their cleanliness. It was around mid-day maybe an hour after but definitely during the busy hustle and bustle that the city was so well known for. With the rise in terrorist activity, crime, mutant attacks and the aftermath of nine-eleven that also meant a rise in police presence. They were obvious to spot amongst the crowds, walking in teams of three one team on a train another standing post at the station itself. All in all a bad place to be if you wanted to commit a felony, which was exactly what Warren was here to do. A thief by trade he often hesitated to take on jobs such as these, but then again most jobs didn’t pay off at fifty thousand nor pay half up front. All he had to do is take out the witness, make it seem like a robbery gone wrong with no trace back to his employer.

The thunderous roar of a nearing train echoed through the station, blowing up various forms of paper trash, and discarded newspapers the classic “ding” signaled that the doors were opening. The people bordering and get off created a rushed of organized chaos. He maneuvered through ocean of people rushing on and off the train to a column out of the way, inspecting it before allowing his back to lean against it. Pulling the digital photo from his pocket he took a few moments to memorize the facial features of the woman in the photo, turning it over he read his scribble from earlier giving her height and weight description. As the crowd thinned out he lifted his eyes from the photo, scanning the faces of people as they passed him by.

‘She should be arriving any minute now...’ he spoke to himself growing impatient of standing around and waiting.

His sight fell on a man in the background a man that seemed to stick out oddly. Everyone knows of the various people and characters that inhabit the city but this man stuck out a lot and seemed quite uninterested in catching a train or anything else for that matter. No this man’s face read pure bad ass, and straight business. Over all just flat out scary. The whistling howl for steel brakes attempting to slow nearly five-hundred tons of speed echoed through the platform once again. Like clockwork another mass of people soon filled the platform. Among them the a five foot six brunette of about one hundred and twenty ponds, with green eyes. His target.

As he stared at the woman he could feel his stomach turning and knotting up. Crossing his arms over his chest he allowed that right hand to rest on the handle of the FN five-seven concealed in his waist band. Something about this situation wasn’t adding up much like an algebra problem, there was an unseen variable. Warren hated algebra, he hated surprises even more.

The subway station was an absolutely disgusting concoction of scents and smells. As Vicente sighed, resting back against a wall, he casually pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket and popped one of them in between his lips. As he lit the end of it, he ignored the properly placed “Do Not Smoke” signs that had been tagged all over. They meant nothing to him. As a matter of fact he was sure that they meant little if anything to the people of this city. Many times he saw people blatantly smoking in front of them so why should he give a damn. It helped him to blend in.

But whatever the case, Vicente enjoyed smoke as he waited for the next train to come. Reaching into his coat pocket with his free hand, he arched his brow as he read through some of his preliminary notes. So far he had been following her fairly close and she should have been arriving in the upcoming train. But today would not be her death…no. This was only more research. There had to be a weakness in her pattern. There just had to be…

Then something tingled at the base of his spine. Vicente was not sure what the feeling was or why it sudden struck him. It was annoying, like the nagging of something trying to get his attention. He tried to shake it but something was wrong…but what?

As he paused to take a look around the station he noticed something different. There was another man here, doing his best to look as nonchalant as ever. Vicente was not stupid, nor was he an amateur. He knew a killer when he saw one: the posture, the searching look in his eyes, the odd bulge at his waistband…but why was he here? Who was he?

Vicente was about to turn and head in his direction when he heard the squealing of brakes against metal. Shaken from his thoughts, he turned back to the train and spied the gathering of people exiting. It was then that he saw his target. The woman whom he had been following for days now, memorizing her every feature, the color of her eyes, the scent of her hair, the familiar wrinkles in her clothes, they were practically old friends now.

But…someone else was paying attention to her. A spied the man who watched her intently…

“You’ve...got to be kidding me,” he growled as he dropped his cigarette and slowly melted into the crowd and began to make his way to him. Nobody…nobody jumps his claim…

Finally…”he spat as she approached from the rail car crowd she was accompanied by three other woman, but they were of no importance to him. Falling into place a few meters behind them he strolled casually with the crowd. Watching the woman’s movements and calculating his move (among other things).He had to admit the woman was quite attractive not really his type but attractive.

He felt a strange compulsion to look where that scary man was, noting that he had gone.

‘I guess he got on a train after all.’He thought as he started to close in on the women from behind, the plans is simple run up normally and grab her purse, when she fights back shoot her. Then run the hell out of there and collect the rest of this money.

“And the other guy said he needed two weeks, pssh.” They were nearing the stairs Warren knew he would make his move once they got to the top, that way he would be allowed a more open space to run. As they neared the stairs the crowd of people slowed their pace, having fit onto the narrow stairway. Not having the same aggressive me first attitude of these New Yorkers he fell behind a few feet more then he wanted to. Not too big of a problem but timing and spacing would be essential if this wanted to look like a purse snatching. Well maybe not so much the sloppier the better.

"Heck I might as well use the money out of her purse to pay for my dinner." he stated aloud ,the oAsianian womin frontont of him turning around to stare at him sternly.

"Say something and I'll slap you." his tone alone causing her to look forward.
A smile crossed his face as the ocean of people split between escalator riders and stair takers, the woman took the escalators. Warren to the stairs, he would meet them at the top. This was going to be easy.

It was needless to say that Vicente was angry. He already had experience with double-booking once and it was not a pleasant one. He did not like sharing kills and he more than certainly did not like sharing money. That was why he gave his employer the strict note that all assignments given to him should be done with the utmost care. He did not play well with others. But…Vicente knew a man like Falcone would never go back on his word. No…whoever this man was…he must have been booked by someone else. Someone else who wanted this woman dead who had no ties to Falcone…

This…

…irritated him.

Such a breakdown in communication could only mean that someone was beginning to work outside of the Falcone’s influence. That was never a good sign…

Vicente shook the thought away. He needed to keep focused on this job, as well as the target at hand. He wanted to be the only assassin on this target and that meant he needed to get to that woman first. But as the seasoned killer turned, he ground his teeth as he saw that he immediately lost sight of both her and the other killer. Definitely not a good sign.

But as he peered about, a voice momentarily rose above the crowd…

>> "Say something and I'll slap you."

He turned and spied the second killer. He was headed up the staircase leading to the surface. Their target, unfortunately, was already on the escalator with her friends. That could only mean that the second man was going to do his job once she reached the top. Of course…if she never made it to the top…

Vicente smirked as he headed casually for the escalator. On his way there, the man casually slipped a woman’s extra thick, sequence covered sweater she had half-hanging out of her bag. Maneuvering towards the escalators, Vicente made it look as if he were about to hop on and right it to the top, but instead, the man casually dropped the sweater onto the automatically moving stairs and watched as it was swallowed up by the hidden edges beneath the stairs. He then casually stepped back and watched as the escalator shuttered and ground to halt. Within the machine gears ground to halt as sweater fibers and plastic sequence all tied and jammed up the inner guts that kept the stairs magically moving. Obviously sweater fibers were not made of steel so it would not hold forever. Just enough to discourage the riders.

Most of the people who were ahead of his target ground their teeth and swore in a cloud of cusses, but none of them wanted to climb up the rest of the way. Instead they started to climb back down into the subway station, pushing his target and her comrades back to the station level as well.

Reaching into his pocket, Vicente casually waited with his back against a nearby wall and watched her descend. Inside his pocket he held and extra thin blade that he could easily hide within his sleeve.

All was looking good so far…

The smell of burning wool fiber filled the station platform. Warren was already a quarter up the stairs when the escalator began to breakdown. “Now I’m starting to get upset.” He spat quietly watching his target turn and head back down the escalator. He had already begun his ascent out of this staph infection breeding ground and now he had to go back down. Various people who were not longer interested in the escalator break down started to rush the steps, causing the flow of people to begin pushing their way upwards. Oddly enough Warren caught a glimpse that strange man was making his way through the crowd of fleeing escalator riders. He didn’t pay much attention to it as he was caught in the middle of the crowd on the steps, and needed to keep an eye on his pay check.


Vaulting over the railing and onto the escalator he skipped steps to the bottom, having to argue with an oncoming station manager to get back onto the platform after he witnessed him hop off the steps. “..But sir my girlfriend is in the crowd I have to get back to her!” The middle aged man continued to argue his point and insisted Warren get back on the steps, eventually threating to call transit police. This was starting to piss him off.
After a few moments of arguing and a stare down, Warren sucker punched the guy. The fleshy smack of knuckle connecting to flesh echoed through the platform, followed by a heavy thud as the man buckled to the floor. A few people gasped as the scene unfolded, and it would only be a matter of time before the police arrived. Warren had lost his patience as he started to stride towards the group of women.

Reaching into his waist band he rested his hand on the grip of his pistol.
‘Let’s just get this over with.' He thought to himself. New plan screw the fake purse snatch and just shoot the broad. Weaving and bumping his way past people he closed in on the girls as they made their way to the elevators. He passed a group of bystanders near a wall, a hair raising feeling krept up his neck.

The escalator took a grinding stand to a halt. The few people who were on that device were jolted awake, looked down in a confused manner, then either climbed the rest of the way up, or began to descend back down to take the regular stairs. Obviously this was a silly option, but many were instructed to exit the motionless stairs so that maintenance could get right to work and see what was going on with their machine. Obviously this act of taking minutes longer than it normally should have taken to get up the escalator had drawn a fair amount of grumbles, curses, and spittings (for those more boisterous people), as the herd of people stomped and paraded down the length of the escalator.

Including a young woman with her pair of friends who was the target of a pair of killers.

One of which was up the escalator, arguing with the manager, while the other casually waited at the bottom level, his hand shoved into his pocket and fingering the extra thin blade of a knife that he kept for emergencies.

He knew that this was not the plan. He was only supposed to follow her for one more day to make sure her pattern was down pat before he made his move. It would have actually been a beautiful and quiet death. A syringe of cyanide and within moments she should grow paralyzed and cease to have the ability to breathe. For those few moments it would be utterly terrifying for her, as death is for anyone, but afterward, there would be barely a sign of her passing. Only a single puncture mark would have marred her skin.

It was beautifully planned. An angel fainting amongst the foulness of the subway station; her body leaving an unforgettable impression in the minds of all those whom witnessed her death; maybe even a candle-lit vigil would held and illuminate the darkness with hundreds of tiny, sparkling lights. It would have been such a sight to behold.

But no more.

Now…the knife had to be use. Now the skin cry a river of crimson that would stain and forever serve only a reminder of the senseless danger of people. Not as poetic as he would have liked…but so be it.

He smirked as he waited for the woman to descend closer. Just as she stepped down onto the floor of the subway, complaining to one of her friends, Vicente advanced…and smiled wide…

Warren continued to fight and shove his way through the crowd. He barely knew this chick but already he wanted her dead more than anyone else in the world. Harsh but true, she is merely the target of consequence from a man who has lost his temper. The rumbling of another train pulling into the station was echoing through the tunnels, the voice of a man yelling from behind Warren was slowly being drowned out by the roaring train. Though none of this mattered to Warren he paid it no mind at all. He was beyond pissed and growing entirely frustrated with this mission. Part of him wanted to just pull his pistol and open fire upon the masses but knew that would just waste ammo. Besides he wanted a clean kill shot, needed to hear the single bang from his pistol and the thump of her falling body across the concrete.
Screeching breaks wailed as the train came speeding through the station, Warren had less than a twenty foot distance to close before his shot was open. ‘Almost just a little closer...’ he thought to himself, a small grin starting to appear on his lips.

‘Maybe this whole thing is worth it after all.’Warren thought as the crowds began to rush and move into position to board the trains, once all these people cleared he would make his move. The train came to a halt and moments later the welcoming “bing” sounded.

“Doors Opening…” The lovely feminine automated voice spoke, before continuing on with her introduction and then the crowds moved in that rhythmic flow once more.
Pulling his arm from within his jacket he withdrew his favorite side arm, holding it low at his waist watching the back of the woman’s head as he centered his feet. One woman cried gun before running off like a mad person. Instantly those who heard or were within eye sight to see the weapon either screamed or took off running the crowd before him thinning out from sheer panic. One clean shot was all he needed now. Raising his weapon to eye level he focused down the sights, his gaze diverted to one of the lone stragglers in his sight line. He instantly recognized that physique and desperado styled clothing.

‘Are you serious...’finally putting the two and two together.
‘Just how many people wanted this chick dead?’ He realigned his sights with his vision focusing on the large man; he had twenty rounds more than enough to finish off him, her and anyone else in the way.
“If all else fails I’ll just run up and shoot her.”
The sound of heavy running footsteps started to draw near, before long the familiar sounds of guns clicking followed.
“Transit Police, drop your weapon!”

“You got to be kidding me!?” Warren yelled in frustration.

“Now!” The officer yelled in return.

He was there. Nearly there. He could smell her perfume, “Obsession.” The same type of her perfume that she wore every day for the past week. He had grown so familiar with that scent so that he could find her in a busy crowd no matter what the circumstances. The scent had an allure to it, something that pulled him closer and closer so that he could hardly contain himself anymore. All he wanted to do was to drive his knife into her belly. Poison would have ended her life more beautifully. But he would have to use what was in hand…

Step…

Step…

Time slowed for Vicente as he came within a few mere feet of the woman. The shudder of her hair from the coming breeze from the top world send a cascade of it in his direction while a she lifted her eyes just briefly enough to lock onto him. It was obvious that she had no idea who he was…because she smiled. People rarely smile at their executioner.

He advanced, ready to pounce, ready to feel that briefly second tension in her body the moment that the blade pierced her flesh and the flood of warmth that would cover his hands the second he pulled the knife out.

But before he could get close enough, there was a suddenly noise that distracted everyone…

>> “Transit Police, drop your weapon!”

Someone screamed and Vicente looked up to see the second killer, the man he spotted earlier, at the top of the halted escalator with a gun in his hand. He watched as the police officers of the transit system suddenly appeared and pointed a gun at his fellow killer. Vicente had to smirk at the poetic justice of that.

>> “You got to be kidding me!?”

>> “Now!”

“OH my gawd!!” the target screamed when she spotted the man with the gun on the escalator.

She and her three friends began to back away before merging in with a crowd of panicking men and women who feared the sight of the firearm. Before Vicente could stop her, she had blended in with the group. He cursed to himself as he pretended to also fear the gunman and slip into the crowd, his nose searching for that familiar whiff of Obsession perfume…