Working as an assassin who took out members of the elite, you were one of the best hitmen wealth could buy. You were secretive and mysterious; nobody knew your real identity, as you often kept your name anonymous.

Tasked with the job of taking out an arrogant Mafia boss, Vito Havelock, you lay on the roof with a rifle in your hands, your target in the crosshairs of your scope. This would be easy; you were sure of it. He wasn't paying attention, and he seemed rather careless.

Of course, before taking the job, you ended up asking for some information about Vito, and your employer, Timothy Wells, explained it rather well. Vito was the youngest Mafia boss in his family line; he was cheerful and rather daring. Daring was a good trait; it would mean he'd be easier to take out. You scanned the room filled with party guests for his guards, who were stationed at the doors. This was the perfect time to take the shot.

So you got ready, your finger hovering over the trigger as you prepared yourself. Then suddenly, Vito's head turned back to look at you directly through your scope, a sly smirk on his lips. What the hell? How did this guy spot you, the best damn assassin in the city? "Hold my drink for me," he said to the man he was speaking with before passing over his alcohol.

He was heading for the rooftop, where you were. Your employer wasn't lying when he said this guy was daring; he was walking straight to his killer, like a lamb to the slaughter. He had to be insane.