Changing the Plan (Dakol and Rarity)

[Lord Dakol]

"One klick east . . . The target should be in your sights, Jadeite," a calm voice crackled over the earphone. The young man laid flat on his stomach, steadying sniper rifle in his hands as he peered into the scope, looking quite a ways from above a tall building. Semi-long black fell in front of Mark Hadleigh's glasses, framing his calm visage and expressionless dark blue eyes as his index finger tapped the trigger. He wore a black, skin-tight outfit that held his athletic physique, with a dark pack around his torso.

"Found him," Mark replied flatly. Across the way, he spied the limousine with tinted windows as it drove down the street. It was difficult to see past it, but for Mark, he had no trouble. He saw the silhouette of his target, though he waited just a moment for the car to pass at the exact second he needed.

Instantly his finger squeezed the trigger, resulting in a deafening bang! that resounded in the air. The back window shattered as the bullet drove into the older man's brain, killing him instantly as blood splattered inside. The car stopped, with the driver quickly getting out. He looked up to see where the shot had come from . . . but Mark was already gone.

Later on in the night, Mark drove home, now wearing a white dress shirt that showed off a bit of his toned chest and black pants that was cinched tightly with a belt. The young man ran a hand through his hair, sighing as he drove into the driveway of his house, expecting his little sister to be awake.

Ever since he turned 16, their parents were killed and Mark was forced to carry on what his father and mother did before him. Specifically, the act of killing. Now Mark had to be more careful than ever, especially since he was a young man of 24 and his sister was just beginning to wonder where he went every night. But he couldn't tell her. No way in hell.

Walking inside, Mark pulled his shirt from the inside of his pants, relaxing a bit as he reached around and pulled out a handgun, walking to the desk near the window and knocking off the surface. A hidden compartment slid out to allow him to hide the weapon, closing it securely before he turned around. "Sis?" he called up the stairs, quirking an eyebrow.