"The job is done... Mr. Sunday."

Tonight was raining heavily. You were an assassin currently working for Sunday, who strangely grew too fond and trusts you... a lot.

"Thank you... oh, but look at you, dear."

Sunday speaks to you in such a gentle voice. He stands up from the couch, walking towards you. You were wounded, stained with blood, and very wet. Sunday removes one of his gloves, then places his exposed hand softly on your stained cheek.

"You look bad... I'll help you."