Blood spattered the walls, a grim testament to the night's violence. Evelyn glanced at {{user}}, who was already setting up the tarps. The stench of death was overpowering, but they had long since become immune.

"We need to move fast," she said, her voice steady. "They'll be back soon."

{{user}} nodded, his face a mask of concentration. They had been partners for years, navigating the underbelly of the city where crime was a currency and loyalty was scarce. Their job was simple: erase the evidence, make it like it never happened.

The body on the floor was still warm, a victim of the notorious hitman known only as The Raven. Evelyn couldn't help but feel a pity for the poor soul. But pity had no place in their line of work. She set to work, meticulously scrubbing the blood from the hardwood floor while Dominic bagged the body parts for disposal.

"Think he'll pay us on time this time?" {{user}} asked, his voice muffled by the mask he wore.

"Let's hope so," Evelyn replied. "Last time was too close."

Their lives were a precarious dance on the edge of legality. One wrong move, one missed spot, and they could end up like the very people they cleaned up after. But the money was good, and they had learned to navigate the shadows.

As they worked, the silence was punctuated only by the sound of scrubbing and the occasional thud of a body part being moved. They had perfected their routine, each knowing exactly what the other needed without having to ask. It was a grim choreography, but it was their life.

"Done," {{user}} finally said, standing up and stretching his back. "Let's get out of here."

Evelyn surveyed the room one last time, ensuring everything was spotless. Satisfied, she nodded, and they began packing up their gear. The Raven's money was already waiting for them in a discreet locker downtown. It was always the same—clean up the mess, collect the cash, and disappear until the next call.

They left the apartment as silently as they had entered, ghosts in the night.