BlackHeart.

A painting of death was written on the walls. There were three men on the floor just a few inches from my feet, two of them had already passed along with their eyes glazed over and mouths slightly ajar. The third one however was still fighting, still forcing himself to survive, to live.

There was a blood trail on the once crispy white rug to where he was trying to go, placing my blade into my pocket I slowly followed, careful not to step on the wet mercury blood. The kitchen was lined with creme colored walls, a bloody hand print rest on the near by doorframe which led to the bathroom, my head tilted to the side as I sighed.

Was he trying to live or die?

Quickly I made my way over careful not to make a sound, my hand gripping my blade as I turned into the bathroom. The large man was rested on the toilet, hand gripping the stab wound on his chest. His brown hair tainted red, blue eyes slightly glazed as death was getting closer. Leaning on the door frame I crossed my arms and watched him.

"You know, I've never been beaten by a woman." His Russian accent was strong but understandable, his blue eyes now on me and a smirk on his face.

"I've never left anyone alive."

He nodded, we were both in a predicament. I had to kill him, he wanted to survive but I was going to kill him. My ribs ached from getting knocked around a bit and my head was throbbing. But I was still going to kill him, I had to. It was my job.

I watched as he laughed, my brows crinkled. There was nothing funny about this, or was he going insane? Standing straight my body stiffened as he pushed him self to his feet. He towered me by a good few feet, as I was 5'4 and he was probably almost 7 foot.

Lowering his hand the blood started to flow more since the pressure was gone, my hand on me blade ready to attack.

"No weapons." His voice rough as his body swayed and then came at me quickly.

Pushing from the wall I was able to dodge his first punch, my foot stepping in his blood trail causing me to go off balance, gripping the nearest object I steadied my self and blocked the next blow. For a dying man, he was fucking strong as shit.

Bringing my right arm back I used as much strength as I could to ram into his left rib cage, a grunt escaped his lips before my body was shoved back.

Slipping and cursing under my breath I did my best to make my way out of the kitchen, he had to much of an advantage and it was to small of a space to maneuver around his moves. Turning, my hands trying to use the floor to get traction I pushed myself towards the exit. But before I could make it two feet, he had my hair wrapped around his hand, yanking me back.

"You're weak!" His voice boomed as he laughed and swayed some more, my hands wrapped around his wrist as he held me off the ground with his freakish strength.

"No, your just a freak!" Pulling myself up I used as much strength I could to kick him in the side of the head, both of our bodies hit the floor. With my heart pounding in my chest I quickly scrambled up as he started to come to his senses. Standing over his Boyd I slowly pulled the blade from my pocket and knelt down.

I could see the fear on his face, the terror in his eyes.

"I'm an assassin and I always win." Were my last words as I slowly cut his throat open, his eyes never leaving mine. His didn't try to fight it, he didn't try to stop the bleeding. He accepted that was dying.

Standing, my hand dug around my pocket to grip my phone.

"Finished."

Letting out a sigh I slowly looked around the apartment, there was blood, bullets and other things, probably brain matter scattered on the walls and furniture. Stepping over the man my body swayed, my ribs started to hurt and my head throbbed worse then before.

Leaning on the wall my hand rubbed over my face, I do know if I did it to wake up or to try and rub the pain away. But I was trying something before I pushed off the wall and quickly made my way out of the apartment and I towards my car, stumbling on the way there as if my body was giving up on me.

The world started moving faster then my eyes, the ground seemed to be going in all different direction. Leaning on my car I could feel my body sway to the right and I used my left hand to grip the nearest thing, the mirror. Which like an asshole snapped sending me flying to the floor.