Ten.

I've been tracking some dickwad for around a week now. He first caught my attention when he was harassing the owner at the noodle shop I normally eat at, yelling at her about some sort of parking rule. As he raises his hand, I see a tattoo on his wrist. A familiar tattoo that I've seen on many dead people. He walks out of the restaurant after flipping a passing waitress' tray full of food. Everyone in the restaurant stares and murmurs.

Nine.

I look out my window and watch him, while pulling a piece of beef to my mouth. I note him kicking the owner's car before going to his own; A clean white Charger. I pull a pen from my pocket and write his license plate on my napkin before stuffing it in my pocket. I made sure there's no risk doing so- the surveillance system has been busted even before I frequented here, and everyone eating was facing each other. I finish my meal and head out.

Eight.

I have a contact who works in vehicle registration. He is a childhood friend of mine. My skills came in handy when it came to him finding this job. He is in my debt, and is willing to help me with my needs. Even though he knows who I am, and what I do, he doesn't truly know about me. About the organization. It's for the better if he didn't anyways. Even so, he is an invaluable asset to me. I find out the asswipe's address and leave. Well... Not before making plans to head out for a drink of course.

Seven.

We meet up at a bar a few nights afterwards. Following the suspected mobster, I found out that he frequents a bar off the west side of Miami. My friend meets up with me and orders a beer. I ask for a glass of 80 proof whiskey before watching the target. After a few minutes of watching and idle drinking, his friends arrive.

Six.

Six people barge through the front door, making noises that even I could hear over the loud music. Everyone turns their head to look at the group, all dressed in blue shirts and white jackets whooping, making their way to my target. They all greet him like old friends, and drink. My suspicions that my target is indeed a mobster were validated. I now had a clear mission. I talk to my friend while keeping tabs on the group. I keep my drink half full- I do not want to get drunk.

Five.

After reminiscing and talking, my friend decides to leave. He needs to go back home and has good faith in me that there will be no kinks. As usual, he leaves behind a snack bag with two cookies. His daughter loves to bake, and loves spending time with Uncle [MITIS]. I make a mental note to go over to my friends house soon before biting into a cookie. Chocolate chip...

Four.

Sensing that the group is about to leave, I myself step outside and walk to my car. I know where the target's house is, so I parked my car in such a way that I am in the perfect position to follow. I wonder again why I don't just wait for him at his house, but I remember that in case there are more people than expected, at least I won't be surprised. After a couple of minutes, the group goes outside and gets into two separate cars, and drive off in the same direction.

Shit.

I follow very loosely behind, making sure they do not escape my sight.

Three.

The group arrives at the target's house. I scouted the place earlier while the target was away to check the layout. I note the amount of narcotics stashed in areas like broken coolers and under the bed. They all get out of their cars, stumbling through the front door. Once they were all inside, I park my car, put on a change of clothes kept under the passenger seat and hide my mask underneath my hoodie. I walk on the side of the street where the two mobster cars are parked and see that they left their guns in the car. There were twelve guns in total. One assault rifle and one pistol for each, I presume. I note the fresh white power on the seats and driver's wheel. Thinking, I went to the rear of the car, where spare tires are kept. The spare tire was at the rear and underside of the car. I feel around the wheel and find a handgun and a knife. Useful. Bringing my own gun, I decided to leave the handgun, but took the knife and slid in in between my belt and pants. I take out my mask, put it on and go to the front door.

Two.

I pull out the knife and knock on the front door, my finger covering the peep hole. I wonder if I chambered my pistol, but the door opens just as I was about to check.

Shit.

The mobster that answered the door was holding a bottle of vodka and stared at me. I saw that he was about to laugh, but I panicked and stabbed him in the throat. As soon as I pulled the knife out I saw another mobster to his right as he collapsed. Still in a panic, I threw the knife and watched as it got wedged in between his eyes. I pull out my pistol and chamber it clumsily as his body slumped as well. I look up and see three more wide-eyed mobsters, each dropping their drinks and reaching for their weapons. I thought I had no chance...

Until we all realized that they left their guns in the car.

I quickly killed the three with rapid bullets to the head before pulling the knife out from the second mobster's head. I walk forward to the pile of bodies when I hear a noise from my right. A mobster was rushing at me from the kitchen! Without thinking, I whip the knife in front of me, brutally showering me with neck blood. The sixth mobster's body slumped onto me before I pushed him off and popped a round into his forehead to be sure. I hear heavy thumps upstairs.

One.

I go to the stairway close to the front door and push the second mobster's body off it before heading up. I walk slowly, being as quiet as possible while at the same time keeping my weapon at the ready. I check a room before I hear rapid and heavy steps behind me. I turn around and see that the target fled down the stairs.

Shit.

I run after him, in pitch darkness. He reaches and dives behind one of the mobster cars. The same one with the tire on the rear.

Shit.

He peeks from over the car, gun drawn and pointed at my head. I freeze and realize I have my arms at my sides. He breathes heavily before laughing.

Fucking Shit.

He fully exposes himself by walking out from cover. He knows that he has the upper hand here.

God fucking damn shit.

'So you are one of the animal mask fuukers, hrm? One of 'hos peeple making trouble whit' us, hrm'?'

'......'

'No need for words, my friend. Not anymore.'

We stare at each other in silence.

...

He pulls the trigger.

..............*Click*

'What??'

With a slight smile, I reveal the object in my left hand. In my hand is the magazine for the mobster's handgun. The mobster stares at it, open-jawed. With my right hand, I raise my handgun and aim it between his eyes.