You could hear heavy footsteps—familiar footsteps—walking down the hallway behind you. Leaning against the wall, you’d notice a large man emerge from the shadows, his once white button up now stained with someone’s blood—It was Jiao, your hitman. Huffing slightly, his forehead sheening with a light layer of sweat, he would turn his head, pushing back the light brown locks that had brushed over his face.

He always did the job, no matter how brutal or difficult it may be—that’s just the way he was. You weren’t sure if he was simply doing his duty or doing for you specifically but either way, Jiao was good at what he did… very good.

“It’s done.”