Survival with an Assassin (#1)

Oh, you're back? Good, let me get you back to where you left off, shall we? -nervous laughter-

“You're... dead...”

The voice uttered, close to a whisper. The dagger was raised and-!

It stabbed the wall instead of Preacher, “dead stupid, if I'm wrong-!” the assassin called out in anger. The voice resemble more to a woman, more likely to be high-pitched. The protagonist slowly opened one of his eyes to look at her as she pulls off her mask, she was wearing to hide her identity.

Wait, he's not dead-? Oh, thank goodness... My job is safe...

Preacher scoffed at the narrator as he glanced over to the assassin. A baby faced, short haired blonde with piercings and her eyes are outlined with black eyeliner. For a moment, he thought she looks cute now that he has a good look of her face now.

When she noticed he was staring, she pulled out the dagger in a swift motion, startling the man and the narrator as well. “You're a dumbass to think that you should be out here, where you could've been mugged-! Or worse, killed-!” she pointed the weapon at him.

'Boy, she nags...' Preacher thought as he instantly pulled his hands up the moment she pointed the dagger at him. “Okay, okay- Jesus, lady. Watch where you swing that thing.” The poor man thought he'd be meeting some nice ladies.

However, the narrator didn't say some would be nice at all. He said lovely ladies.

Oh, my. Preacher had appears to be caught by an assassin. An assassin who protects the neighborhood since she's paid to attack her targets that was said to murder thousands in the apartment buildings. Hence, why she's staking out on top of the said building. Ah, scripts I didn't shred. Thank lord. -clears throat- her name is Connie, Connie Casanova. Tho her last name was misleading, she's known for her super human strength from a tragic past of hers. Appears to me like she is this world's Batman I presume.

The protagonist took a moment to glance at the sky and mouthed, “yeah, I noticed,” he glanced back at her once she put away her dagger. “State your name, because you don't look like my targets, and you don't look like the people in the apartments either.” she placed her hands on her hips.

She's also bossy, just so you know.

“Shut up, Gray.” he mouthed once again before clearing his throat and stated. “I'm Preacher. Sorry, I just stumble upon here ya know? Crazy stuff with drinks,” he half lied, he did stumble upon the alley due to a certain someone. He gave a mere side glance at where the narrator could be.

Oh, did I mentioned, she can smell a lie, even if it's half true?

Her hazel brown eyes squinted the moment she heard that lie. “Yeah, heard that thousand times before, now, tell me what were you doing? Because a moment ago, I never seen you get in or out that alley,” she interrogated, her arms crossed with a stern look, and she has a weapon if Preacher made the wrong move.

Alright, listen. Preacher-

'I am listening, dumbass-' The protagonist thought aloud. He was sweating, glancing about to see if there's by chance a distraction, so he could get away from this topic.

Just by your nervous look, I'm assuming you're listening. In a few minutes, the targets she was talking about would sound off a sound that would keep her distracted but there's a chance you could get hurt in this predicament-

“WH-!?” Preacher exclaimed, but he was instantly muffled by Connie when she hushed him angrily. “Shut. Up.” She glared, she tugged his shirt down to give him a straight forward warning. “One more peep out of you, I won't hesitate to turn you in as another one of my targets...” she threatened.

Oh! I see now. Since you two are deep in the dark alley, the lamp post merely lights up the alleyway only. They could see a couple more figures walking by, holding suspicious duffle bags. Connie squinted and then pulled the protagonist to a corner and pushed him near a pile of trash bags.

“Ow-!” he whispered and shouted at the same time. His ribs could've broken with her strength but to her, it's merely a light push. “You sit there, and zip it. I'll be right back.” she zipped her mouth as a gesture towards Preacher as she went and followed them to investigate.

The protagonist rubbed his chest in pain, “ow... no doubt she has super human strength, Gray...” He mumbled quietly.

I agree, although... you seemed... interested in her.

“Uh... I was, but she's not my type, a little bossy.” he shrugged. He lean back against the garbage. The pale skinned man doesn't care about the smell right now, though he's slightly worried he might get hurt here. Then again, he's not with her right now that she could possibly throw the man off the building if she's ticked just enough.

Any injuries?

The protagonist checked inside his shirt to see if there's any, gladly there's none, so he'll live. “Hell, that's how I'd describe. A light shove, felt like I've been hit by a chair...” he hissed softly, rubbing the part of where he was shoved.

But no lethal injuries right?

He scoffed and rolled his eyes once again, “dude, It's a small shove, not a gun shot.” He settled in the trash, blending in with other trash because he considers himself trash more than a cyber genetic human. Judging by the visor and the robotic hands.

Ah, good. My job will be safe after all.

“To Hell with your job to, why am I getting hurt?” He pointed at the sky.

Like I said, Preacher. Better you, than me.

He groaned in irritation, “Just Preach, the name Preacher sounds like I'm a priest or something...” he cringed and shivered at the image of himself being a priest. He committed too many sins to even being called 'Preacher'.

Preach T. Sheldon?

“My other nickname is PTSD but no one ever calls me that. Says its offensive or something...” He folded his arms behind his head as one leg was draped over the other… The protagonist mainly focused on the sky at the moment, wondering how in the world has it not rained yet. The moment of silence is not really a good thing, knowing there could be more assassins or murderous targets.

-scoff- I'm going to get some coffee, this could take long... -sound of a chair moving and footsteps slowly fading away-

“Later, Gray.” The man hummed.

After about 5 minutes or so...

The pale man had decided to doze off to pass the time, his visor showing a line of z's. Unexpectedly, he was shortly awakened by some sort of beeping noises. He started to grumble, trying to ignore it by blocking the sound off and get back to sleeping on the foul smell of decaying food waste and other disgusting garbage.

Then the beeping began to go faster until-

A loud explosion erupted from the wall, bursting a hole into it. Bricks are flying to different areas, debris scattered everywhere, what makes matters worse was that the protagonist is apparently underneath most of the rubble. A crack on the visor and two swirls indicates he's injured and almost unconscious, black liquid leaking out of his mouth. He groaned softly yet it was unheard because of the 4×4 vehicles drove through the hole in the wall, almost crushing the man underneath all that debris.

The sound of gunshots was heard but that's all he heard before he completely blacked out.

However, his salvation and possibly his death finally came around after losing her targets. Connie hissed at the damage that was ensued by those lunatic. She pushed the rubble away with a grunt, finding Preacher bleeding as well as his visor releasing sparks and needs to be repaired as soon as possible. The blonde scooped up the unconscious yet also injured man into her arms and sped off to her hidden fortress.

'I don't get paid enough for this bullshit...' She thought silently.

Meanwhile, …

A man, standing in a white room. The lights bright, you could barely see any shadows. The dirty blonde hair all sleek nicely, wearing a simple white collar shirt with a black necktie. His spectacles look stunning to his eyes as he's taking a momentary break from the irritating man. Out of all the other protagonists in the world and other worlds. His boss has to choose this one. He frowned a little, remembering what he was supposed to do and what would happen if anything goes wrong.

...

“A narrator? Ma'am, isn't there another job for me to do?” He jolted when he felt the gun to his back, sitting across from him is a woman in a suit. Messy and curly hair, an eye patch stitched on her right eye. “You put down all my other jobs for you, I have no choice but to give you this one.” Her thick New Jersey accent sent shivers of fear into his spine.

How did the man get here is with a couple of unfortunate events...

He froze once again. “Alright-! Alright-! I'll take this job-! Just... don't kill me ma'am...” he let out a small whimper out of cowardice. The boss took a small sip of tequila from her glass margarita. “Any more screw ups and whining, you're out and swimming with the fishes. The dead ones. If I ain't clear enough for ya.”

The moment she said that, her lackeys cracked their knuckles as well as a click of the gun at the back of his neck.

“Y-yes ma'am-! Thank you ma'am-” The man was cut off once again, “but. Yer name needs to be changed... from now on, yer Narrow Gray and nothing more. The last guy that tried to get his name back is in the basement getting fried.” she taps her fingers together, one leg over the other. He open his mouth to object, but he was cut off by screaming from below, and by the sound of it, he wouldn't want to be in that situation. That's all that it took for him to finally swallow his anxiety and compute. “Of... course... ma'am...” He nodded, standing up.

“I got ya yer first guy, odd fella' and his name is Preacher Tine Sheldon. That's the guy yer aiming for.” She lean back on her chair. The man's face went from relieved to worry. “What? But-” She cut him off once again with a hand firmly slammed on her desk. “No buts. I don't care whatever ya had to do with the guy, but he's going to be your first. Protagonist.” The boss snapped her fingers to alert her guy to bring in the things this new narrator have yet to achieve.

Another man with a mask and a strong figure of a body builder, had a few stacks of files and paperwork ready to be used for Narrow's job, he handed them to the smaller man with a grunt.

“Don't mess this up, narrator. Especially, since it's pretty easy, follow the scripts and don't get him killed or you're first.” That was the last thing she said before the man was transported with a strange device, he was sent to the white room where he had everything he would ever need. As well as the same device from his boss.

A digital clock was on his desk, 5 years and counting. Indicating he has about that much time to prepare for his first protagonist. He hoped his first job won't be too complicated.

...

And yet here he is. A few of his other scripts are shredded out of his careless endeavors and this so-called protagonist is a piece of work than he expected.

A moment of spacing out has cost him about 15 minutes wasted, he shook his head as he heard his smartphone ranged in his pocket. He picked it up, after putting his cup down on his desk.

“Hello? (...) M-Ma'am-! It's been a few years, um, how have you been? (...) Oh, no, no, no-! He's doing fine-! Swell even! (...) Nothing bad, just a few bumps but I'll make sure everything goes back to plan!” He heard the faint sound of explosion. Narrow sweated out of nervousness. “Um... Ya know what? I think my break is over, times are wasting, yes? Alright okay bye-!!!” he hung up quickly before rushing over to the microphone, putting on his headset and watched what's the commotion. He saw the debris and immediately felt like his life would end soon.

Oh, don't die yet...

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