Murder. It's quite a harsh word. Insinuating that one may be guilty and others a victim. That one is dirty, dark and vile, the other pure, innocent and light. But we all have these qualities that make us guilty. That give us motive, means and opportunity. And when murder is your job, well what can you do? Slinking through the shadows, working tirelessly underground attempting to evade capture by the corrupt that name themselves saviours. That is what he spent his time doing. Snaking through the undergrowth and slinking through the shadows. That was what he was doing now.

"Murder. That's rather harsh don't you think?" The assassin mused, hovering over his stupidly bold victim who was currently strapped down to a chair before him. Boots turning his footsteps to gunshots, he began to circle the now trembling paedophile stroking his gleaming knife, enjoying the fearful squeaks the man produced as the cold metal neared the exposed skin of his neck. " It's more like... involuntary suicide. Not that it matters anyway. You will die either way."
"P-please. I don't want to d-die..." the old man pleaded. The assassin laughed, the sound penetrating through the tense atmosphere. They were always like this. Begging, pleading, finally fearful of something. It's always been something that has fascinated him. The way death changes people, it reduces them to a blubbering child. Every. Single. One. Even the most stone-cold pieces of trash feared the unknown that came after the light left their eyes.
"No one does, but some people just don't deserve to live" He spat, barrelling towards the thrashing man, knife smirking back at the assassin as he drove it into the old man's throat. Hot blood spilt out of the wound coating the un-bothered killer in a viscous layer of crimson liquid. "That's going to stain." he sighed dramatically, wiping his blood-soaked blade on the tidy fabric of the corpse's jacket. The chase is always fun, hyping up the kill as you wait for that rush of excitement and pleasure almost; when the Earth was rid of one more scumbag.

Yet the cleanup job always left a sour taste in his mouth. Maybe it was the way his victims were still warm when they were unceremoniously stuffed into a body bag or the metallic stink of blood that had one mission: stain everything he owned. He guessed he could hire someone to do this part for him, but that always left to many questions and whoever he hired no matter how loyal would always get too curious for their own good and then he'd have to kill them and have to clean up the mess on his own. So either way, he lost.

Deciding to forget about the whole "clean it up before the cops arrive" fiasco, the killer simply drained a car of fuel and poured it over the corpse, removing the teeth and filing away the man's fingerprints, before flicking a small match onto the flammable gas. With a bored sigh, he pocketed the teeth - just a few more to add to his ever-growing collection. Honestly, it was something the tooth fairy could be proud of. He promised himself he would get rid of them someday but simply never did.

Finally, watching the body go up in flames the assassin turned his back on his victim.