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A bead of sweat danced across the scar on his face. The ghost light on stage provided just enough light to read the note he clutched:

“Theater. 3pm.”

He never asked questions or knew who his employer was. He found his work much more fulfilling this way. If the amount was paid in full what did he care about the life he was charged to take and the reasons why?

He heard a door open and his body stiffened with anticipation. Waiting for the perfect moment to attack was his favorite part. Footsteps in the distance told him he was about to kill a woman. There was no mistaking those high heeled shoes.

He could tell she was looking around for whoever lured her to this secret death trap. A smile crept across his face as he began to sidestep the instruments towards where he knew she was headed. His plan was to kill her before she reached the bottom step. Simple enough. One quick slit of the throat from behind should do the trick.

Then it happened! What every hitman dreads, he knocked something over! The sound reverberated throughout the entire theater. He knew this kill would now be a struggle, but she didn’t stop, or run, or even scream out at the sound. Instead, she kept on descending the stairs, as if she heard nothing.
What luck, he thought, as he leapt from the orchestra section, pulled her down, and slit her throat, all in one quick and steady motion.

She didn’t make a sound.

“All in a good day’s work,” he said to himself.
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