Calm and collected. Stay frosty. Cold and calculating. The mark of an assassin. The hit is a job, nothing else. Not personal. No feelings at all.
As the sweat beaded and continuously rolled down her neck, her cheeks, she again questioned the profession. This one was no different or was it? Who was this Boss she had only heard of spoken in whispers? She knew she was good, the best as a matter of fact. Her personae was much of the reason for this. Standing only 4'11", slim, petite, pert breasted, no one to this point suspected her occupation.
She worked alone, her and her long gun, no spotter, no confusion. Only given a first name and descrip