Assassinate me

Name: Charm Killian
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Nationality: French
Years of experience: 3 years
People you've killed: Is very careful and charges high. Has killed no more than 50...yet.
Addictions: Money.
Your "normal" job: Boutique Manager
Method of choice: Prefers to be close to victims. Uses knives and disposes of the body very carefully. Is well with covering my tracks.
Appearance: Charm
Brown curly mid-length hair. Dark eyes. Plump full lips. Average nose. Curvy body.
Who do you live with? Alone. Very private. The maids and butlers live in a seperate house not far from mine.
Thinking of quitting? No. This job isn't easy to quit. I'll have to go through a bunch of hell to do it, and if I'm lucky I could get out of the job alive. Otherwise, I have to wait.
What country do you live in? United Kingdom.
How much do you charge? 7,000 per small target. 15,000 per big targets. I charge a lot, but I do my job well.
Anything you would like to add:

My Cloak
My Knives
My "killing" outfit
My house
The front of my house
Shadow-my horse

I prefer the ancient way of killing people. I have always fancied the days when knives were our only weapons and horses were our only source of transportation. I don't leave my property except to go to work in my boutique and my other job.

Elly, I think she meant that your character can't be under 16.

oh...teehee oops! My mistake! I'll edit that right away. Thank you:D

Haha. You're welcome. x]

Name: Tom-Tom
Age:21
Gender: Female
Nationality: Japanese
Years of experience: 6
People you've killed: too many to count
Addictions: smoking
Your "normal" job: so rich she doesn't need one
Method of choice: up close, but will use throwing stars or a hand gun if necessary
Appearance: tall, thin, with straight, long black hair and cold, unpitying blue eyes
Who do you live with? No one
Thinking of quitting? it's too fun to quit
What country do you live in? USA
How much do you charge? it depends on the client
Anything else you want to add: she only takes on richer clients, and she loves Starbucks coffee

Can we start soon?

I think the moderator left, so we might as well.

Name: Lucio Adoga
Age: 27
Gender: male
Nationality: Nigeria
Years of experience: 10
People you've killed: 54
Addictions: money
Your "normal" job: fisher
Method of choice: slit thorath or bullet in head.... Accsidents
Appearance: black, short hair, muscular,
Who do you live with? fishing apprentice
Thinking of quitting? no
What country do you live in? nigeria

How much do you charge? deppends on target
Anything else you want to add: no

Are we going to start soon?

you can start anytime I guess. The person who started this hasnt posted anything in it since the beginning of summer, when I joined, so I assume we are in control now.

[ Okay, seeing as everyone seems unwilling to start it, I will. ^_^ ]

Sophia felt the hand of the blade through her pocket of her dress, a small smile upon her painted red lips. Clad in a black cocktail dress that clings to her frame in the most pleasing way. She taps her knuckles on the door, number 345. She hotel she is in isn't the most popular in London, and she hadn't took the time to learn the name. For the past hour she'd been sitting with her victim, making small talk, flirting. Making him want her. Of course, he excused himself, and invited Sophia to join him later. Perfect. The door swung open, and there he stood. He obviously was a ladies man, tall with wide shoulders, obvious muscles beneath his clothes, and a handsome face. Though there was nothing special about him.
Sophia put on a seductive smile, lightly touching his tie, and moving closer, "Are you going to let me in, Charles?"
She watched with pleasure at the flush that appeared at his neck and behind his ears, as he took a step back to allow her inside of his hotel room. Easy. She heard the click as he locked the door behind him. And she spun round, one hand resting on her hip whilst the other falls down her side. She smiles again.
Soon he had his arms around her waist, his lips at her neck. She sighed, and as quick as lightening she took out her knife, slashing him on the cheek. He yelped, falling back and clutching at his bleeding cheek, "What the f..." He didn't have time to finish his sentence, for Sophia slashed at his other cheek. Her once seductive smile turning sadistic as she let out a bark of a laugh. She lunged for him, her knee making contact between his legs, Charles letting out another whine of pain. She sat on his chest, in such a position that she can hold back his arms with her legs. He gasped for air. "What're you...?" He moaned, kicking his legs, though making no contact with Sophia's back. She hadn't expected it to be so easy.
She let the tip of her blade touch his neck, an evil glint in her eye as she looked down at the man she had been payed to kill, "Any last words?" She muttered, he opened his mouth to speak, but as he did so, she had slowly started to push the blade into his neck, and then ever so slowly pulling it across his neck. Blood started to bubble at the corners of his lips as he started to choke for air, the knife still slowly ripping at his neck. She smiled down to him, pulling her bloody knife away, and watching as the light slowly faded from his eyes. His body becoming limp.
She stood, taking a kerchief from her pocket, and cleaning her blade on it before slipping them both in her pocket and taking out her red gloves, slipping them on her dainty hands, and walking out of the hotel room, out of the hotel, as if the past ten minutes events had never even happened. She took out her mobile phone, hitting in a few numbers and putting her phone to her ear, muttering only two words, "It's done."

Rayna

Rayna walked quickly towards her target. She wasn't in the mood for this today, but of course, it's not like she had a choice. Rayna wished more than anything that she could just get away from all of this. Though, it wasn't that easy. It never was.

Despite her flaming red hair, she could easily blend into the crowds. She wasn't very pretty, yet she wasn't ugly either. She was just your average girl, which was quite comical being that she was an assassine.

She took a turn down one of the ally's and into the old run down building. A slightly overweight man smiled at her.

"Welcome Jenna," he said, using her fake name. "Nice to see you."

Rayna didn't smile back. She hated what she had to do, but this was her job and...well, she was good at it. This is what she was born to do.

"Hello, Joseph," she said, her voice not betraying any emotion.

"I assume you've some to buy?" He asked.

Rayna shook her head. She knew there was no escape for him. It was already done.

"Not today," she replied.

"Then why did you come?" He frowned.

Rayna held up a gun and shook her head. "I came for your life." She responded simply as she shot him straight in the chest.

She knew she had hit his heart. He was dead and she watched Joseph's body hit the floor once and bounce slightly from the impact. It was another clean, easy kill. Just like always.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, closing her eyes. She ran from the place before the cops could get there. Tomorrow she would get her money but tonight she needed to forget what she had done.

Rayna knew a good bar a few miles down. She would drink away what she had done. She always did it. It was almost habitual now.

Rayna hopped in her Ford Focus and headed there. It didn't take but two minutes to reach there. She instantly sat at one of the stools, trying to get comfy. She would be there a while.

Too late to join?

I think more people are always needed.
http://peachjuice.deviantart.com/art/fierce-106405103 (her appearance)
Bex

10...9...8...The seconds ticked away slowly, almost painfully. The job needs to get done. I need to finish what I started. As much as I forced myself to believe the words, I couldn't. Yet there I was, gun in hand, finger on the trigger, but I didn't have the will anymore.

"Dammit!" I tossed the sniper rifle at the attic wall, a loud thud echoed, and frustration tugged at my nerves. I sighed in exasperation."Why can't I just do it!" Seven years of experience hadn't gotten me this far just so I could screw up.

I glanced out the window. To think, I had just been about to snipe through it and now my target was being greeted by thousands of guests. Missed the chance...again.

"Shit!" Two years in Hong Kong and no matter what I did my finger still couldn't pull the trigger. My fist pounded the small window frame till it hurt.

Buzz...BuzzMy phone rang and I flipped it open without reading the ID. I knew who it was anyway. My employer.

"Bex?"asked a thick new york accent.

"Yeah, it's me. What do'ya want?"

"Bexie, dear, I gotcha an offer here in the states that should be fairly easy."

Silence.

"You still there Bexie?"

"Ugh, I can't take the offer, Jerry." I clicked the phone shut.

Not being done with my current target was beginning to piss me off.

This is R right?

Roland~~

I slid off the back of the semi easily, only the soft crunch of gravel under my shoes betraying my arrival. I waited for the lights of the truck to fade into the distance before turning to the house. It was large, about three stories with wide windows with dim light spilling out of them like blood from a wounded animal. The light cut through the dark night, illuminating some things, and casting others in to complete darkness.

I don't like the light much. Makes it too hard to see, but if you are in the dark, then it is all too easy to see the fools flocking to their bright deaths.

I stood on the sidewalk, examining the house for a moment longer before making my move. Normally I would have already been in the house, and making my move to the target, but I was in civies now, and no one would think anything was off.

The gates to the driveway swung open on silent hinges, thanks to a good set up. Five P's; Proper Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. Andrew was always using things like that to help, I just thought they were stupid.

I moved up the driveway, going over the lay outs one more time. Going through the motions, remembering where each guard would be, and what he would be carrying. The Walther P99 hung in a leather holster against my side. It swayed as I walked reminding me of what I was about to do.

The gun rasped as it came out of its holster. I put the silencer on in silence, waiting for the queue to move in.

A voice crackled through the little metal circle in my ear, "Cutting power in 3...2...1..."

I saw the power shut off in the building and I pushed open the door. Only one person inside. His head flies back, blood spraying out. I rush to the body and catch it as it falls. Keep silent, stay alive.

Then I went to the next room. Empty.

I drew the short knife out of the sheath against my leg and brought it up with my gun.

I moved slowly, feeling each movement before I made it. The room I was in was tile, a kitchen, but there would be carpet through the next door. I stepped through, and reacted. The knife came up and met flesh, then the pistol shot two times and a body dropped. The sound was muffled by thick carpet, but it sounded like a canon in the dead silence. I cussed under my breath and brought the pistol up. Two men came in, bearing rifles. They fell instantly.

I ran to the hallway and into the next room, checking for guards. So far, nothing off the plan, but you couldn't be too careful. As I moved I calculated the shots left in the gun. One on the first guard, two on the second, and then two more. Five in all, that leaves ten, and one more clip just in case.

I moved up the stairs and onto the second flood but stopped. There was a crash downstairs. I turned to face the noise then realized my mistake. A man hopped out of a room, his rifle trained on my chest. I balled up and fell down the stairs. Fragments of wood showered my body and the flashes of light from the gun killed my night vision. All ears now.

I heard the stairs creak from below me and I shot. A second later a body fell against the wall. Now just that one more guard. I pushed myself against the wall, controlling my breathing and trying to think of a way out. I could stand up and get shot. If I stuck my gun out my hand would get blown away. I pulled the earpiece towards my mouth and whispered, "turn on the lights on the count of three... three... two... one."

The lights shot on and I heard a strangled yelp from the shooter. I pooped up quickly and let off two shots. Blood splattered the opposite wall and the body fell. I stood there, letting my heart slow and my eyes adjust. One thing had gone wrong, and I wasn't about to make another mistake.

I counted to ten then rose. The floor was empty except for a growing pool of blood. I stepped over it and into a bed room. There was a man sitting in his bed, all the color drained from his face. In a previous life he may have been handsome, but now he was a monster. Layers of fat rolled from his body and receding black hair grew from a wrinkled scalp. Even now, when he was lying in bed gold rings adorned his fingers.

A grimace found its way to my lips. This was someone I would enjoy killing. A mob-boss practiced in extortion and murder. Someone who didn't make their own living and who didn't live an honest life. At least I got to kill the truly darkest parts of the human mind. He killed for pleasure.

I raised the pistol and shot him in the knee cap. He screamed in pain, but all I said was, "You've made some bad enemies Mr. Ezio" before I killed him.