I'm a Fighter, Not a Lover (Don G x OC) Mafiatale/Mobtale

~ Chapter 1 ~

THE ILLUMINATING moonlight brightly gazed down upon the steadfast female assassin as she was on her way to hit her next target. She ran from rooftop to rooftop, adrenaline rushing through her veins listening to nothing but the whispers of the wind that passed her by each and every time. Tamia then had finally reached her destination, Wellington Mansion Residence. She sat on the ledge observing the pacing figure within the wide windowed room. The light was dim. She couldn't tell exactly what he was saying, but could see in a way that he was angry and upset. 

The rambunctious old man was treading back and forth within his office, obviously in a fit of rage with someone over the phone. John Wellington, that was the targets name. A crooked low life businessman that spent money on gambling, women, and the extravagant lifestyle of a millionaire. Tamia had read his files, he owed majority of creditors money and lots of it. He fled from state to state for the reason of his debt issues because he refused to pay back his loans that involved large sums of money and interest, so now he was practically spending money he didn't have. Therefore, he had gained multiple enemies along the way and now, they wanted him dead. So they sent her to finish him off, to do the dirty work.

This man whatsoever did not have a wife, children, or anything that really involved humans besides one night stands and dirty deals, it was shameful. And being alone in a big mansion, where nobody's there but you? That was just perfect for Tamia because then she didn't have to make constant precautions about escape routes and being seen by other people. Once again, he was alone. Perfect.

After the man had hung up the phone, it was her time to move. As said, get in, get out. Tamia leapt onto the balcony swiftly, barely making a sound as she did. She grabbed her gun out her thigh holster and kicked open the pristine white glass doors. The fifty-five year old man jumped back in horror at the melaninated female assassin, both confused and caught off guard. 

Her gun clicked, her finger on the trigger pointing directly at Mr. Wellington who was no more than twelve feet away. "Any last words you son of bitch?" Tamia asked, voice flat and monotoned.

"Wait, don't shoot! Your an assassin, a bounty hunter, right? I can pay you double than what they're paying you! In fact, I can make it worth your while!" he compensates nervously, stepping back against his desk. He was shuffling for something, but it wasn't a checkbook. 

Tch. Coward, she thought.

 "Hm. I would take upon your offer Mister Wellington, but unfortunately, I know your little secret," Tamia drawled, a smirk behind her mask. "You're broke." And with that, a bullet cracked through the air, the sound of an agonnied cry filling the room. The man had attempted to whip his gun out of his drawer compartment but Tamia could already tell what he was doing and shot him in the shoulder. She stood over her soon to be dead victim, collapsed on the floor as blood continuously gushed out of his shoulder onto his tailored clothing. He held his wound while his body is pressed against the cold carpet sideways, ceaseless pain in his features. "You see, you're just making this harder for me. I could've killed you already nearly a minute ago and you wouldn't have to lie here so helpless."

"Please, I beg you, just let me go I'll---" Wellington begged, his heart rate fast and unsteady. Pleading old eyes for someone, anyone, or anything to help him.

"Why? So you can screw over more people like you've done for the past thirty-nine years?" she replied."Heh, I don't think so." She checks her watch. Half past eleven. Time to wrap this up.

"Please, please! I'll do anything---"

"You see, I would love to chat a little more but unfortunately I'm out of time, meaning you are as well." Tamia lowered her gun down at his skull, finger squeezing the trigger. "Remember, it's nothing personal, it's just business."

"No, please!--"

"Goodbye, John Wellington."

-*BAM*-

The room emerged silent, the dead man's blood soaking into the ugly brown carpet, body motionless. The moonlight shines down upon them through the balcony glass doors. One alive while the other, dead. Her phone rings and she grabs it out of her back pocket, flipping it open before holding it close to her ear. 

"Hello?"

*Have you done it? Killed the old bastard?* A male voice asked through the phone.

"Yes, I have. Just finished actually," she responded, putting her gun back in her thigh holster. She walked a few feet away from the dead body so the blood wouldn't get on her black boots.

*Alright then, I'll send you the money in full cash.*

"Fine by me."

*Nice doing business with ya'.*

"Uh-huh. You too." She hung up the phone and put it in her back pocket. Tamia turned towards the balcony and leapt off the ledge, leaving the scene.