Warnings: Very graphic descriptions of death and violence. This applies to the whole story.

No such thing as a legal assassin existed. The only difference between a hired killer and a serial killer was the ability to "slip past" the radar. No one batted an eye when people went missing if it was convenient, especially for the government. The journalists never caught on it, simply because the government could afford the very best of the trade.

Assassinations weren't what people mostly thought – 9mm uzis with silencers, clean shots to the back of a head in the middle of a crowd or the work of an ex-military sniper, a Cheytac .408 cal like an extension of their arms. That would warrant attention. That was an unnatural way to die, most of all – suspicious.

Death, in its essence, was natural. From getting in a car crash where you get identified from dental records to puncturing your lungs while falling down the stairs. People went missing every day, from running away from home to being sold in the sex industry. All kinds of information could pop up once someone was six feet under, the kind that explained everything. Crimes of passion, manslaughter, robbery.

Shoot someone in the chest, take their TV and the public won't question it.

Death just happened. The damage was done. Those who said the accidents were a set-up or saw a pattern in how there were no witnesses would be called conspiracy nuts. The government allowing it? Here's your tinfoil hat. Active protesting or resistance against the carefully carved system? Here's your free pass to a mental institution.

Things like that didn't exist.

Therefore, Levi didn't exist.

That was what he told himself while slitting the neck of a man.

37 years old, 185cm tall, 82kg, father of two. He'd read the file. Johan Stewart, banker, hobbies included fishing. Just someone who stood too close for comfort to someone else, the only difference was that one of the parties stood higher on the food chain.

He didn't care that Mr. Stewart was actually a high-rank smuggler who had returned from a drop-off. Not all his hits were "bad guys" like he appeared to be. They all had the same look on their faces when dying, they all knew fear. People were all the same and none of them deserved this.

Levi didn't have morality issues. He paid his taxes, gave his seat to older people on the train. He got paid to kill people and didn't ask questions. Job's a job in these harsh times.

And he was good at it.

In most cases they didn't even need to send a clean-up team, Levi knew they'd do a shit job by his standards so he ended up spending three hours in someone's garage, mopping blood up from concrete.

He preferred to clean up his own messes. And blindly counting on getting a clean shot or stab, everything going as planned, was simply idiotic narcissism at the cost of a failed hit, broken bones and maybe even life.

His number one rule was to never underestimate the strength of someone who had their life on the line. Always have a hunting knife strapped away somewhere convenient, because the gun could be kicked out of your hands, just like now.

Never count on your plan A; always have a dozen back-ups. Thanks to that he was now covered in blood, his legs and ribs ached and he suspected a sprained wrist. But he was alive; he was the killer, while the life of his victim slowly seeped out of the gaping wound, further staining his clothes.

The man's muscles were still twitching as the remains of the chemicals ushering him to fight from the brain still coursed through the rapidly emptying bloodstream.

It was too sticky and warm and Levi felt the cooling layer of sweat trickle down the side of his head.

'Maybe I can still become a math teacher.'

He promised himself to take a week off soon. But now it was time to get out the cleaning supplies and a bodybag.

I ran out of valium and felt like writing something violent. Then I remembered wanting to write a mystery AU bordering on sci-fi and violence that would rival SNK's own while everything is drowned in UST and homoerotic undertones (yeah, right, more like overtones, who am I fooling). So there you have it. I'll post the next chapter in a few days, but I'd like to know what you think of the idea so far. Too cliché? Already done? What side pairings you wouldn't mind seeing?