Assassins {With AshenAngel}

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Up on the roof of a rich estate, there was a man hiding behind a ridge. He checked his gun, double checking the ammo. His target was inside the estate, and Bailey had been paid good money to kill him. However, he knew that another assassin was after his target so he had to move quick.

Scaling down the walls of the estate, he landed softly and with a roll. It was night, and he was dressed in all black. A hood covered his blonde hair, and the scar that covered half of his face. However, his ice blue eyes were visible. They held no emotion whatsoever. He knew he had to do whatever it took to kill his target. He needed the money right now. Having checked out the place before hand, he headed over to the window and disabled the silent alarm. Opening the window, he headed inside.

Bailey preferred to shoot his targets from afar, with a long range sniper. He was a very, very precise shooter. He could hold his own hand to hand. However, this one target was difficult. He was a hermit. Never went out, or strayed next to windows. So Bailey had to go inside. He didn't like getting his hands dirty, but this needed to be quick. He checked his silencer as he stopped outside of the bedroom door.
 
This sounds really interesting! I think I'd like to join if you don't mind a newbie...
 
"Your wine, sir?" A young man entered the bedroom, dressed in a very well-kept butler uniform. The old fool always had a glass of red wine before he went to bed. He supposed that it was healthy, a glass of wine a day was proven to increase heart health. Unfortunately, this glass was going to be his last. The toxin would take an hour to kill the man in his sleep.

This assassination had been one of the slowest he's done, though it was far less stressful than most. He'd slowly amassed the long list of passwords and decryption networks that would let him drain the old fool dry, as well as the money that made him responsible for the death of the old fool. It was simply time to finish this fiasco.

The added pressure of another assassin aiming to steal his kill had also forced his hand. He felt his pager silently vibrate in his pocket. Perhaps he had cut this one a little too close. He silently removed his gun from where it was hidden under his uniform. The gun was an antique- a reliable antique that had a darker history than even him. Yes, the raven haired man loved his old English revolver. His hazel eyes were locked on the bedroom door. He would have to hold back the enemy for at least half an hour before the damage done by the toxin would prove to be the cause of death over any bullet or stab wound.

Surprising an assassin was never a good thing to do, but it seemed like a decent option at the moment. He also pulled out his knife from a hidden pocket on the inside of the jacket. Seeing that the old fool was already unconscious, he stortened his time to fifteen minutes. That would do it. His black leather shoes moved silently across the ultraplush carpet as he edged towards the door. His breathing was almost nonexistent, just as silent as his feet as he crept towards the door. His heartbeat was slow, calm. He stayed low as he flung open the door and aimed his gun at where he had a feeling the kill stealer would be.
 
{I've messaged her about it :)}

As soon as the door had begun to open, Bailey knew that the other assassin had gotten here before him. In the second he had, Bailey managed to curse him as he thought that the other assassin might have been quicker and simply put a bullet in his targets head.

Knowing that the gun the assassin probably would have would be aimed where he was, Bailey immediately darted around the corner and fired his own shots at the assassin. He stole my kill Bailey thought, frowning. He had to get it back. Glancing very quickly around the corner, he realized that it was going to be extremely difficult to get into the bedroom.

With a growl, Bailey unsheathed the sword strapped to his back. He was pretty good with a sword, although this was modern times and people looked at you funny if you used a sword. However, Bailey knew he could block bullets with it and that was exactly what he needed it for. He waited for the moment to strike.
 
This probably wasn't the best place for the assassin to start combat, now that he thought about it. Not only would he have to stall the enemy for fifteen minutes, he also had to get out of the bedroom unscathed. As it was, they were at an impasse.

Move forward, and either get disembowled or put your head right in line of where the last two bullets had drilled into the wall. "Perhaps we can both save some money on bullets and talk this out?" He asked, his British tones clear as day as he spoke to the man around the corner.

He was ready to leap clear of an attack should his words only provoke the man. He'd heard a sword sliding from the man's sheath, and the two holes in the wall were proof of his gun ownership. Most likely, he had more than a few other weapons hidden on him.
 
Bailey thought about his words for a moment, deciding what to say. "Perhaps," he called back. "But you took my kill. I needed that money."

However, Bailey was hesitant. If they could come to an agreement, perhaps he could still take the money. Then suddenly, a thought hit him. From which clan exactly was this man from? He gritted his teeth. The main rival clan had killed his best friend. If this assassin was from that clan, then the reasons for killing him just got one more.
 
"The old fool has a lot more money than what was put out to kill him." The assassin spoke easily, well aware of the other's hesitancy. "I have codes to access his online accounts. I could give them to you. There's about two million dollars in them right now. In exchange, I'll be getting out of here without getting shot at or disembowled. Sound fair enough?" He presented the offer to the man, carefully listening for any signs or agreement or disagreement from him. His face was carefully neutral. If this attempt at peace didn't work, then he supposed that his coworker would charge in like the raging bull. It was best to avoid that because... Well, he was a very independent man, and having to ask for any kind of assistance was worse than any torture imaginable.

Quite honestly, he didn't give a damn about who this assassin was. Being stuck in a room with a dead body was just creepy. He grimaced slightly, resisting the urge to glance back at the bed, in fear that the old fool would rise from his eternal slumber. He quietly cursed himself for watching Zombieland so many times. Anything zombie related creeped him out.
 
Bailey let out a low chuckle. "My offer was for five million," he called. It actually had been one million, but he was hoping to get more. "Get me that, and you have free passage."

He wondered if the man would go for it. If he didn't then... He would probably take the first offer. That is, if it was still available. He tensed, sword in his left hand and waited. If the assassin went at him, he was prepared.
 
"I don't clean out my pockets for other assassins. And that man was barely worth a million." He replied with a small frown. "One million, or neither of us gets out of here." He restated his offer, sounding a bit more assertive than before.

Something didn't feel quite right deep inside of him, however. Someone else had to be in the house. Must've entered at the same time as this man, if his own sensors didn't alert him. He grimaced. Was this man really alone?
 
"Looks like you're not getting out of here." Bailey chuckled, but inwardly he cursed. He had hoped the man would keep the offer, but apparently not. And he had already taken his kill, so he had another reason to kill him.

Bailey looked up when he felt another presence. He frowned, and glanced around uneasily. Probably with the other assassin, he cursed. Great. Now there were two he had to deal with. Gripping his sword a little tighter, he thought about rushing the one currently talking to him. Then he'd deal with the other.
 
"Well, how are we going to do this stupid fight? If I come out, I'm dead, and if you come in, you're dead." The man sighed, mildly frustrated by the development. This was probably the stupidest point he'd reached in his life.

The lights suddenly flickered out, and he held in a groan of frustration. The house was pitch black. "You've got to be kidding me." He growled, his annoyance painfully obvious. Worst situation ever. He was stuck in a room, in the dark, with a dead guy.
 
Bailey was pretty confident about his abilities. Especially when the lights went out. He glanced up for a moment, tensing. This had to be the other assassins work. So he made his move. Bailey darted around the corner and straight at the other. It was dark, and so he wouldn't have been easy to see.

That also meant Bailey couldn't see that well either. He had sheathed his sword, because he knew it would be too big and not easy to use in such a small place. So he had gone at him with a knife. However, instead of actually getting a stab or slash on him he crashed right into him.
 
The man immediately stood when he heard the assassin begin the attack. He was knocked flat on his ass when he crashed into him. With a growl of annoyance, he hefted the man off of him. He squeezed off two shots from his revolver in the direction that he'd flung the guy, though the odds of actually hitting him were probably extremely low. He had four shots left. None of which would do him any good in the dark. He quickly scrambled out the door, knowing that it would be one of his few chances to get out of the bedroom.
 
"Shit!" Bailey cursed. One of the bullets clipped his arm, and he hissed in pain. However, when the assassin moved to run Bailey reached out with his other arm be went to grab his leg. Hopefully he would trip him. He had completely forgotten about his mission now, focused purely on the other assassin.
 
The man had almost made it out of the room when he fell, whacking his chin on the carpet and biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He kicked at the man's arm, hoping to force him into letting him go. He wanted to get out of the bedroom, away from the dead guy. This assassin was preventing him from doing that, however.
 
As soon as the other man was on the ground, Bailey pulled him closer. Or at least, tried to. His jaw was kicked by the assassin but he didn't let go, determined to not let him walk free.
 
Feeling one of his kicks connect with the man, he immediately kicked him again, wishing that he was wearing his steel toed boots instead of the stupid Italian leather shoes that came with his butler uniform.

Planting his free foot, he attempted to surge forward, only to fall once again due to the lunatic clinging to his leg. He was halfway out of the bedroom, able to see down the hallway. A window towards the end of the hall allowed the faint moonlight to light part of the hall. He narrowed his eyes slightly as a large figure filled the space. For just a second, he thought that it could have been the assassin's partner, though after that fleeting glance of the claws on his large hands, his blood ran cold and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. "Holy hell." Those were the first words that escaped him.
 
The second kick also connected with his jaw. Bailey cursed him, then looked up just in time to get that fleeting look. His eyes widened in shock, but he still didn't let go. Then, on second thought, he scrambled up and released his hold on the other assassins foot.
 
The man was quick to his feet once the assassin let go of his leg. "You see him too, right?" He warily asked the assassin, making sure that he hadn't hit his head too hard when he fell. His hand drifted to his revolver. He wasn't about to trust the other assassin, but he figured that the guy had enough sense to hold off on attacking him until after the creature, who happened to be eyeing them like a kid eyed a package of goldfish, was dealt with. The creature was slowly creeping towards them, and he was struggling between using all four of his shots or turning and bolting. In theory, he only had to outrun the other assassin.
 
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