head full of dying stars

How easy is it to make them angry? Do they show their anger or hide it?

He’s a pretty irritable dude. He tries to not get visibly angry because how often it backfires, but sometimes someone says something so awful and ignorant that he can’t help but lose it and flip at them.

Do they believe in soulmates?

Not really. There’s people you were meant to meet and that’s enough for him.

Do they have any pet peeves?

People who wear their shoes inside further than the hallway.

Do they have a happy place? Somewhere they go to in their heads when they need to relax?

His bed, easily. Wrapped up toasty in about twelve blankets? Happiest place ever.

At what stage of their life were they the happiest?

Probably his mid-late 20s (so his ‘current’ age within universe canon). Just because it’s a really good point in his life where he’s becoming a lot more stable and successful.

At what stage of their life were they the least happy?

When he was 19. By far.

At the pub/bar, are they more likely to buy someone a drink, or have someone buy them a drink?

He can be a cheapskate, so he’s definitely trying to get people to buy him drinks, but he’ll buy a round with his pals.

Have they ever broken any bones? If yes, how?

Despite all his injuries over the years, he somehow hasn’t! Has come very close to breaking his ribs but that didn’t succeed.

Do they have any memories/experiences they’d rather forget?

Oh, for sure. Way too many, actually.

What is their favourite childhood memory?

His first ever comic convention! He was about five and had the best damn time and it shaped him into who he was.

Do they have a ‘type’ they are usually attracted to?

Not really. He does love taller people (not hard, he’s pretty short).

Do they have any favourite possessions?

Many autographs he has from actors, comic creators and authors over the time.

Do they have any tattoos? If no, would they ever consider getting one?

He has two! The Black Mesa logo on his shin and the Goron Tribe symbol on his back.

Do they have any piercings? If no, would they ever consider getting any?

Only the one helix piercing. He has thought about getting just regular ear piercings but never got around to it. Also briefly considered an eyebrow piercing but again just…never got around to it.

What is their dream house like?

Having a cool cinema is definitely in there, and a lush bathroom to relax in.

What is something about them that people would not expect just by looking at them?

That he has kids. He doesn’t give off the ‘right vibe’, apparently.

How good are they at choosing gifts for others?

Surprisingly good. He’s usually the guy that gets you something you would never expect but is either based on a silly little joke or something kind of practical.

Do they have a certain skill that they’re particularly proud of?

He can walk backwards really well.

How would a stranger they just met describe them?

“…do you think he’s ever washed that t-shirt?”

How would a close friend they’ve known for a long time describe them?

“My favourite depressed bastard.” – Matt

Do they have any personal insecurities?

Basically everything, in all honesty. He doesn’t like to dwell on it though. Maybe focuses on his voice a little more because he hates how nasally he can sound.

What is their highest physical stat and their highest non-physical stat?

Physically is probably defence – he jokes it’s because he’s a big dude, but really he’s just…pretty good at dodging when he’s focused. Non-physical is always gonna be charisma. He’s just oh-so charming.

How would they react to finding out someone lied to them, even if it was for their own safety/wellbeing?

It does highly depend on what the lie is and who is was. Though as long as the person is completely open about the lie and doesn’t try to dodge questions once it’s found out, he can accept it a lot better.

Do they prefer cold weather or warm weather?

Cold so he can wrap up nice and toasty in several blankets.

How easy is it for them to say ‘I love you’?

Some would say too easy, but telling his friends how much he loves them is something very important to him.

How easy is it for them to tell someone about their worries?

Easier than it was. He has gone through…a LOT of therapy.

Have they ever witnessed someone die?

Unfortunately, yes! Not just in terms of his job that occasionally involves slaying vampires, but like…an actual normal person when he was a kid.

Are they ticklish?

Oh, very. Poke his ribs and he giggles.

How high/low is their pain tolerance?

He’s adapted to have a pretty high one due to the amount of nonsense he gets into.

Is there something they secretly wish they could do but are too afraid to?

Have enough spare money to just spoil his kids all the time.

Are they a messy eater or a neat eater?

Kinda messy. More just not noticing he has sauce surrounding his mouth or whatever.

What moment of their life made them feel most unloved?

His entire relationship with his ex, Gabbie (his son Derwen’s mother).

What moment of their life made them feel most loved?

Every time he hangs out with his friends or when Izzy (his girlfriend) holds him.

Which of the senses would they hate to lose the most?

Smell. He loves smelling good things, plus it’s enhanced due to being a shapeshifter.

Are they good at small talk?

Not particularly. He do it, but he’s very noticeably stiff when he does.

If they could ask anyone one question and get the absolute truth, who and what would they ask?

It would probably be his ex Gabbie and it would just be…why him?

If they had the chance, would they prefer to travel to the past or to the future?

The past, but only like…the 70s and 80s to watch some of his favourite horror movies in cinemas.

Who had the biggest impact in their life, both positive and negative?

Once again, in terms of negative impact, it was his ex. Positive though, his parents have been a great influence on the kind of man he became.

Would they rather live life always surrounded by people, or always alone?

That is tough for him, as he likes being alone but needs to break out of it on occasion because too much alone time is usually what leads to him having awful spirals.

Is there anyone or anything that instils fear in them?

This hotel lobby has some of the worst furniture I’ve ever experienced. The old worn leather couch creaks as I shift, loose springs digging into my back. Makes me reach around and massage near the bottom of my spine

I still sit in a particular way because of that day – far too straight and tilted to the side. Helps ignore any lingering ache there. The painkillers I was given around the time helped, but they would do nothing but make me addicted to them now.

I had awkwardly explained to the doctor that I was moving house and lifted the fridge wrong, so that’s why I now had a slipped disc. I wasn’t telling a complete lie – I had lifted a fridge. To flip it over and crush a particularly pesky target in a hurry.

Still. Sometimes it still hurts there. Just a bit. Enough to be noticeable, but not enough that it’s worth getting it checked. Just old pains coming back to haunt me.

            I have a list of things. Will nots. It’s small, but even in this business, it’s useful to have some – pretend you have some form of humanity and morals left. Won’t do kids, for example. Very few people would do kids and the ones who do you pay out the nose. I haven’t broken it so far but…this guy.

I have to keep telling myself – this target is a monster. Destroying this city and taking advantage of every poor soul he’s condemned to live in squalor.

But he did this…he opened this wildlife rescue centre a few months ago. A place they take in sick hedgehogs and deer that have been hit by cars or whatever. And he just seemed so sincere. The way he held his wife as he cut the ribbon, the speech he gave. He genuinely seemed to care. The way his wife looked back at him, she seemed to care too.

They loved each other.

And that’s my usual rule. A question I ask myself. Would anyone care if I got rid of this guy?

And I think someone would. No matter the workers he’s abused, the people he’s left to die, he has a family that adores him through all that.

I push through. Sometimes you have to hurt good people in the process of hurting bad people.

            The animal lover thing is something else. The target is a patron of several animal-based charities, is always pictured with his family dog or horse-riding, and it just makes me think of Ollie. The kittens he used to foster. The cardboard box with an old Star Wars towel in that he kept in the back of his car in case he found some poor injured pigeon on his way to work. Ollie adored animals.

I used to immediately trust anyone who loved animals because of Ollie. If you love animals, you must be a good person, that was my thinking. I was wrong, of course.

Even the target. He came across as the perfect animal lover, but I’d seen the pictures from inside his home the client had gotten me. The mounted heads of various exotic, rare animals he’d shot. His cruelty truly had no limits.

I hadn’t seen Ollie in ten years. Not since his mother’s funeral. I don’t dare check up on him online, because I know it’ll only ruin me further. The one good thing in my life and I just destroyed it.

It’s why this job is such a perfect fit for me.

            Sometimes it’s hard to think of the benefits for this position. The sleepless nights and the distance I must keep from regular society.

I’m a sort of freelancer at the moment. Makes the work harder. But this client, the things they’ve promised me…I don’t know their real name, but they left a calling card from The Scarlet Circle. An agency of some of the best hitmen in the world, well known amongst the sort of people who would wish to hire a trained killer.

Everyone knows what happens if you succeed on a hit given to you by The Scarlet Circle. You’re in. Higher paying contracts, the safety net being amongst your own…it’s the assassin’s dream.

If I do this smoothly, without a hitch, that means I’m in. My work has already been clean enough that they took an interest, so I have to keep going.

            Then again, the payment. The Scarlet Circle are known for giving massive payments, cash in hand, delivered to your residence by courier with ease. How they know where you live, nobody quite knows.

You hear rumours sometimes. That so-and-so got offered a choice – enough money to kick back and never kill again, or to join the Circle, and be part of a group of the most elite killers in history, that they took the money and were living it up in a mansion in the Cypriot hills or something.

Like anyone who still had a shred of themselves left, the thought of quitting was often on the back of my mind. A little voice going “Cut and run whilst you still can. Whilst you’re still alive.”

What if I got such an offer? Money or power. Would I accept the offer to join the Circle? Keep taking contracts, keep killing the monsters that plagued the same airspace as me.

Or would I take the money and go? Quit this life…maybe find Ollie again. Show him I’d changed.

            I’d tried it before. To quit. This would be my first contract in…six months.

That night, I was back in my apartment, scrubbing blood from my fingernails and this wave of sickness washed over me. Maybe it was the way the knife had squelched as it slid between the target’s ribs, or the crack of bone as their neck snapped, hitting the pavement below the bedroom window.

That target had cried. Begged for his life. Fell on his knees and sobbed like a baby for his mother as I stood there.

I was usually quick enough that a target never got a word in. But something about that night shook me. I hesitated. I had spent the last six months walking around like I was in a daze. Potential clients approached me, but I turned them away.

That letter from the Scarlet Circle changed my mind. Brought me out of it.

            Something drops at my feet with a slight thump. It’s enough to bring me out of my thoughts for a moment, as I look down and see a small satchel. Dark brown leather, as worn as the sofa I was sat on.

I looked around, trying to spot whoever could have dropped it. A slim figure in a deep purple suit was the closest I could guess might have done it, but they were walking away through a set of doors with purpose.

It had to be intentional. This was for me.

I lifted the satchel onto my lap and checked inside.

A gun. A sleek pistol with a silencer on the end. Quick and deadly.

A note. Folded up with the hotel’s name on the paper, immaculate writing.

  Room 701. Security cameras will be turned off for fifteen minutes from arrival. Use that time wisely.

  Once deed is done, come back down to reception. Ask for a key to conference room 5. Meet us there.

  We expect great things.

Suppose this was the other benefit of the Scarlet Circle. Someone to help. A team to do things like hack the security cameras to make sure you aren’t seen. Access to weaponry that was usually out of budget.

We expect great things.

And that’s what they would get.

            The doors opened. Joel Christoph sauntered in, walked over to the reception desk.

He didn’t notice me. Targets never usually do. I get to my feet, slink around the corners as he makes his way to the elevator. Just as the doors are closing, I rush over, calling out.

“Ah, wait!” Christoph jumps a little in surprise as I try to push my hand against the door, reaching for the ‘open’ button. I slip inside, flash a smile.

“Thanks.” “Don’t mention it. What floor?” “Oh, same as you.”

The doors click shut. I glance up at the security camera in the corner of the elevator. The light was off. This better work. I reach into the satchel, now on my shoulder. I had brought my knife for this, but a gun…they were the most efficient tool a hitman could own. Even as a threat.

“Hey, wait. The seventh floor is private-“ I lodge the butt of the gun into his throat. Christoph lets out a short gasp, but doesn’t move otherwise, stares straight ahead at his reflection.

“Don’t say a word,” I hiss, “Just take me to your room, and we’ll get this over with.”

Within two minutes, he’s shakily opening the door to his private suite.

Within five, I’m ordering him to the balcony.

He begs. He cries. He offers me money. Promises he won’t say a word to the cops.

I think about the photos of him I’ve seen. The aftermath of a night with him.

This isn’t stirring the same confusion the last job had given me when the target had broken down. No hesitation.

I shot him square between the eyes and he fell headfirst over the balcony, rushing to the streets below.

Distantly, I heard a car alarm go off.

I take a breath.

My work was done.