The Jobless Guy Who Has Come To Slay Mga Nobela at Kwento

“All right, let’s just make this clear: I don’t need any help. I’m not here to find a B.F.F. I am here to kill some teenagers, and get the heck out. So, just watch what I do. Stay the hell out of my way. Do not interfere. Do not try to help me. Do not ask me any questions, unless absolutely necessary. Just observe. Is that all clear?” “You gotcha, captain!” I. Am. Going. To. Kill. This. Woman. No. Must stay in control. Killing her would definitely constitute a breaking of my contract. But damn it, I really want to. And I have to wait three months before I can start killing for the job. It’s going to be a very tedious three months. “I sense that you may not be entirely excited about working w

It had a cold, and hard weight to it. “Wh-what?” The man stuttered, staring at the rod. “Whoever paid you to act so poorly, I'm guessing it's not a large sum.“ The man went quiet, afraid that he'll say the wrong thing. “So, let me say something reall quick and then we get this over with.“ He swung it, nd the impact was bone-crushing. “If you're broke, you find a job, you don't walk around the street finding a way to squeeze yourself into a stranger's problem.” The man’s body jerked in the chair, a strangled cry leaving his throat as the metal struck him again, and again, and again. “Sometimes you meet the wrong stranger, and you get involved in a mess that'll definitely cost you your life.”

"I'll kill everyone you've ever spoken to. I'll burn down your entire bloodline unless you give me a name." He meant it. This wasn't a bluff. Three other men stood along the walls, watching with blank expressions. This was routine. "The Volkovs!" The hanging man finally screamed. "The Volkov bratva hired me! Please, that's all I know!" Dante smiled, and it was the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen. "See? That wasn't so hard." He pulled a knife from his pocket. The hanging man started begging. Dante slit his throat in one smooth motion.

I have been given the job of silencing him, as he has become a nuisance, forgetting his place. Fools never know when to stop and simply enjoy what has been given to them—always greedy for more. My job is to do the dirty work, to remind them of their place… or rather, to drain the blood from their bodies. I flip the silver knife in my hand, watching his body shiver. “Give me another chance, I’ll right the wrong,” he pleads on his knees, already knowing who I work for and exactly why I am here. I walk towards him slowly with a wicked grin, watching him desperately back toward the door. He suddenly stands and makes a run for it.

“But boss I already told you that the last job I did for you was the last one I don't want to do any illegal work again” “And when did you become a saint? After all the lives you have taken you think you can be a saint, listen it's either you do this job or I expose you, I have every detail of the illegal jobs you have done for me and you know I can expose you any time any minute” “Boss, why are you doing this?” “It's simple I want you to do this one last job for me and I won't contact you again, it's a simple job I'm not asking you to kill someone”

Finally, a voice came through, breathless and frantic. “I don’t know, boss!” the man stammered. “It’s—it’s just one guy! Some sick-looking bastard with glasses. He’s moving too fast—he’s dropping our men like flies!” I bit back a grin. Petrov. That was my guy. Efficient, ruthless, and apparently terrifying enough to shake Danzo’s goons to their core. Danzo’s face darkened, his expression a mix of disbelief and fury. “One guy?” he spat. “One guy is doing this to you? Are you all useless, or do I need to teach you how to aim?”

A world the law didn’t touch. A world soaked in blood. The root of my unending wealth. Heads bowed the moment I stepped out. “Boss.” “Boss.” Their voices echoed in submission. I didn’t respond. I only came here when it's serious business. Rugar stepped forward…my best shooter, my third after Leo, him and Leo are my shadow in this world. Here, I wasn’t Professor Black. I wasn’t Zed. I was Roman motherfucking Killer. The name that made grown men piss themselves.

He turned to the girl in front of him with a soulless expression. "I just followed the gunshot. Watching you? I had no business and I'm going to watch you? As for who I am, it's none of your business." The girl's eyes filled with anger as she smiled sarcastically and looked at the person in front of her from head to toe. He looked at her face and raised an eyebrow. She tied her hands to her chest. "As for who you are, I took my word back. There are thousands of workers working here. Anyway. I don't want to see you here again, let this be the last time. It's the first time I see someone who is afraid of gunfire."

I knew, just from the way he had lifted me into the air earlier, that he was trained. I couldn't beat him. I was doomed. “I love getting these kinds of jobs,” the man snickered darkly, his hand cupping my breast, squeezing and fiddling it in his grip as he ground against me. “Not only do I get to kill you, but I also get to have some fun first.” I inhaled sharply at his words. Jobs? Someone hired him to do this? A shiver ran down my spine as a name came to mind. Evangelina.

He picked up the phone after one ring. "Thanatos, you are calling late." The grisly voice with a thick accent spoke first. Thanatos was what my employers had named me. They felt it good for my image. Fuck my image. "I need another job." I kept my words clipped. You never know who could be listening. While my eyes were locked on the amber liquid in my glass, my ears were scanning the deserted bar. "We just gave you a job." The gruff man replied. A low growl rumbled through my chest as I took another drink, "The pussy is dead. He double crossed me."