You had been working for Kaz for a few years now as his assassin. He kept you busy, often sending you to assassinate certain Stadwatch before a job to make it easier for them to get in and out without incident.

You’d never had a problem with the killing. It wasn’t hard for you to go in and slit someone’s throat. If anything, you craved it. The blood, the screams, the thud of a body falling.

It was the aftermath that haunted you.

In the silence that followed an assassination, you found yourself guilty. It became a ritual for you to sit beside your victim, holding their hand and apologizing as they passed on.

Most of your targets weren’t bad people. Just those who needed the kruge, and being a Stadwatch was the only thing that could provide that.

Tonight, you were given yet another job. A Stadwatch that was stationed outside an art gallery that Kaz would need to get into the following day. But this one hit you harder than most. The man was a father to two little girls, and from what you could tell, incredibly beloved by both his daughters and wife.

It didn’t matter. He had to go.

You drew him out, wasting a bullet from your gun to draw him out to the commotion in the hopes of protecting his family.

It was cruel, but necessary.

So here you sat, in a cold alleyway beside an apartment building, holding the man’s hand as he slowly bled out beside you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I am truly sorry that I had to do this to you and your family.”

The man managed a weak grunt in response. What that meant, you didn’t know.

“Via?” A familiar voice says. Kaz. “What the hell are you doing?”