Kingbury one shots

A great day for a certain somebody.

Today was a great day!


The young, cheerful man hopped out of his blue bed. His curled ginger hair bouncing just like he did in such a jovial manner. He placed his glasses on, changed clothing, put his shoes on, and grabbed his bag. He limped a bit due to the weight of the bag but that was fine! He skipped to work, his lively brown eyes glanced across the street, a bright smile flashing across his face.


He passed a dog on the way to work, he questioned the owner if he could pet the dog, it was a white fluffy pomeranian. The owner said no, but the man wouldn't let this spoil his mood. He pulled one of his toys out of his bag and aimed it right at the owner's head, shooting a bullet right in between the owner's eyes. The owner fell back, blood seeping out of her head onto the grey sidewalk. The man chuckled, and pressed his boot on the owner's head, pushing down, he loved the sound of that satisfying crunch of the skull crumbling under his boots. He then grabbed the dog's leash and made along his merry way to work. 


The dog made a cheerful bark sound, the man smiled, how cute! "You're just plain adorable!" The man said with a peculiar gleam in his eyes. He glanced back at the tall building before him. "What a pity though...I won't be able to take you in, I'd be late for work if I took you to my house, and I can't just leave you out here! What a predicament" The man said, attempting to think of a solution to this conundrum. He then looked at the gun in his hand and had a bright idea.


"Go fetch!" The man said, chucking the gun into the road. The dog scurried into the road, picking up the gun, then a passing car crushed the dog under its wheels, a sickening crack sound filling the air, as the dog lay limp, lifeless on the asphalt. A maniacal smile crept onto the man's cheeks, exposing his gleaming white teeth. 


He walked back across the street, skillfully yet narrowly avoiding multiple cars, and grabbed his gun. He then walked back across the street and pushed open the door to the building, skipping in. He was greeted by...not so smiley faces. People with dark bags under their eyes, thin frames, cigarettes in their mouths, gloomy outfits, droopy hair, it was a melancholic sight that was for sure! Their suits were all greys and blacks, meanwhile, his was a bright blue with lilac accents. 


Then he saw a familiar face, a very very pretty face. George Willaim Fredrick-King the Third. His boyfriend. He ran over, saying a cheerful greeting. Getting another back in George's thick British accent. George stirred his coffee, then took a sip, pressing his light pink lips to the brim of the cup, the wonderful scent filling his nose. A small smile was on his face. The man was rambling on about his day so far, his energetic voice filling the quiet and dreary lobby. "Woah, calm down there Sam, one thing at a time," George said with a chuckle. Sam then heard his name be called over the intercom "Samuel Seabury, report to Mister Vaswaski's office immediately. " A gruff voice said. 


Sam waved goodbye to his boyfriend and got inside the elevator. There was a small girl inside, looking to be around 9 years old. She was holding a small teddy bear and had a rather apathetic expression on her soft face. Her brown hair ran down her back, so straight it looked like chocolate had been poured down her back. She was wearing a small dress, stained with red liquid. Sam thought nothing of it and pressed the button to the 43rd floor. 


He noticed the girl pulling a small item out of the teddy bear, a pistol. She aimed it at Sam, the same emotionless expression plastered across her face. Sam quickly knocked it out of her hands and held her hands behind her back with one hand, and aimed the gun at her chin with the other. The next second her head was a bloodied mess, and the elevator looked like someone had exploded. Sam then leaned on the wall, waiting to get to the floor he was supposed to go too. 


After countless minutes of elevator music and time going excruciatingly slow, the doors finally opened. He walked down a hallway, turned right, and entered a large office. The walls were draped with crimson pigmented silk curtains, and the flooring was of dark hardwood. The walls were a slightly lighter shade of wood with a large window on one wall, showing out across the cityscape. There was a desk littered with papers and contracts galore, along with a short and chunky man in a wooden chair. 


The man sighed, standing up and pushing his chair back. "Mr. Seabury," He said in a sympathetic tone, his thick Russian accent brushing over the all-too-familiar name. "Mr. Vaswaski" Sam replied, his tone just as cold, the name slipping off his tongue with such venom, it could cause lucifer himself to flinch. "I have a job for you, Mr. Seabury." The short man said, looking down at a stack of papers. 


"What's the job, sir?" Sam questioned, wanting this situation to be over with already. "I need you to kill another hitman by the name of George Willian Frederick-King the third." The man said, sliding the stack of papers over to Sam. "He committed several crimes, hasn't done his job correctly, killed innocents who were not part of the mission, and countless other things that have broken our code of conduct." The man said, looking Sam in the eyes.


"I recognize you are rather close to him, that's why I've chosen you for this job, can you handle it?" The man questioned. Sam clicked his tongue, breaking eye contact, having to think for a minute. "Depends." He said finally. "How much are you offering for his corpse?" He questioned, a dark look in his eyes. "50,000 dollars, if you're up for the challenge. He is a fighter, a rather good one at that." The man said, a small smirk creeping up his cheek. 


"Deal," Sam said. He then grabbed the microphone to the intercom. "Georgie~ I need you to come to Mister Vaswaski's office~ Okie Dokie?" He said in a cheerful tone, twirling the wire around his finger. He then put it down, pulling a gun out of his bag and hiding it behind his back. 


A few minutes later he saw the door open, George standing there "What did you need Sa-" George tried to say, but was cut off by a bullet through his throat. George fell to the floor, his blue eyes not seeming as inviting as they once were, now like icy tundras, devoid of life. Sam then looked back at Mr. Vaswaski and had an idea. A twisted grin grew on Sam's face, and he shot Mr. Vaswaski in the heart. He then grabbed two briefcases filled to the brim with cash, 100,000 dollars at least. He then began walking home.


Today was a great day.