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Vincent tried to remember the poor bastards name, or even what he looked like. He had killed him not a few hours ago in the early evening, in a crowded bar right across from a diner that was popular among cops, both new, old and retired ones, and was even chased off by Jim Gordon himself. It was such an obvious job, one that would stick with most men for the rest of their lives. But he wasn't like most men. He didn't see faces when he killed or harmed someone. Young or old, male or female, saint or sinner, he didn't care. All he saw, was the money he would get paid for doing the job. That he remembers, he always remembers the money.
Southside Gotham. Five hours previous.
He hated the wait. His target would arrive soon, but still he was impatient. He hated standing still, too obvious even though he was in a dark alley where nobody could see him. His feet ached from standing still for so long, and it was cold in the alley. He'd hive anything to be able to have a smoke right now, but he waited.
People were laughing inside the bar. Carradale was a bar like no other. Not because of the name or even the drinks. For the most part it looks like any other drinking establishment. Until you met the people. For the most part they were crooks. Thiefs, murderers and made men gathered here. But even that wasn't the main part that made it interesting. What made interesting was that it was right across from a diner that was popular with Gotham PD. Even retired cops went there to meet their old pals and to talk to the young blood of the force. Nobody inside the bar would even fight, but they still went their to feel superior. To feel untouchable because of the cops outside, and the killers inside. It was the perfect place to set an example. The Bertinili family was making a come back, and they wanted everyone to know it.
The target finally rocked up to the bar. Right on time as always. He parked outside and went on in, he even vrought a couple of dates along with him. He was a nobody really, just some low level mobster. But he was the most recognised out of the crime families besides the higher ups. He was flashy, arrogant and creepy. If he wasn't a made man, he'd be dead in a gutter. Vincent didn't care about him being a made man. Ge wasn't getting paid to care. Only to kill.
As soon as he went inside Vincent made his move. He left the alleyway and made his way across the street. He looked over at the diner and saw that their were a few cops inside, mostly retired ones. Perfect. He slipped inside the bar and looked around.
There was cigarette smoke in the air, as well as the smell of stale beer and even staler vomit. The cump was in the corner, an arm around each of his dates. He wasn't facing the door. Nobody saw him enter. Brilliant. Vincent walked along the bar floor, being careful not to bumo anyone. It took him a little while, but he finally slipped behind his target. He leaned down close to the mans ear and started whispering.
"Sir, I have an urgent message for you."
The guy didn't even look up, he was staring at the blonde bimbo on his left arm. "Yeah? What is it kid?"
"The Bertinili family sends its regards." Vincent then pulled out a corkscrew, and stabbed the mafioso in the neck with it.
The guy started gurgling on his own blood, the bimbos on either side of him screamed, but Vincent wasn't concerned. He jerked out the corkscrew and stabbed him twice more with it, leaving it impaled in his throat. Then, Vincent just walked calmly to the exit. No one had any idea what was happening, until they saw the body. By then, Vincent was out the door.
He walked calmly towards the alley he came from, when he saw a guy step out of a car in front of him. He knew who the guy was instantly. Jim Gordon, the Jim Gordon. Oh shit. Vincent kept calm and continued onwards, calm as a cucumber. Until the bar door slammed open. It was one of the bimbos, she pointed at Vincent and screamed one word.
"MURDERER!"
Uh oh.
Vincent looked at Gordon. Gordon looked back. It was like a scene from the movies where two characters stared at one another before something big happened. Gordon opened his mouth to speak, but before the words even cane out, Vincent took off running.
He heard Gordon shouting behind him, but he didn't look back. The alley was too narrow for a car, so it was a foot chase. It didn't last long. The alley was a maze of twists and turns, and Vincent knew which ones to take. Within a few turns, Jim Gordon's voice started to fade away. By the time Vincent reached his car on the other side of the maze of alleyways, he couldn't hear the old windbag at all.
Vincent smiled to himself and hopped in his car. He would be home in a bit, and as soon as the late night news was on, his paycheck would practically be in the mail. There was one problem though, h3 had no idea who he killed. Oh well, it will come to him eventually. If not, he hoped his employer would tell him at least, or he'd find out in the news.
Just another job like any other. Another day, another dollar
Southside Gotham. Five hours previous.
He hated the wait. His target would arrive soon, but still he was impatient. He hated standing still, too obvious even though he was in a dark alley where nobody could see him. His feet ached from standing still for so long, and it was cold in the alley. He'd hive anything to be able to have a smoke right now, but he waited.
People were laughing inside the bar. Carradale was a bar like no other. Not because of the name or even the drinks. For the most part it looks like any other drinking establishment. Until you met the people. For the most part they were crooks. Thiefs, murderers and made men gathered here. But even that wasn't the main part that made it interesting. What made interesting was that it was right across from a diner that was popular with Gotham PD. Even retired cops went there to meet their old pals and to talk to the young blood of the force. Nobody inside the bar would even fight, but they still went their to feel superior. To feel untouchable because of the cops outside, and the killers inside. It was the perfect place to set an example. The Bertinili family was making a come back, and they wanted everyone to know it.
The target finally rocked up to the bar. Right on time as always. He parked outside and went on in, he even vrought a couple of dates along with him. He was a nobody really, just some low level mobster. But he was the most recognised out of the crime families besides the higher ups. He was flashy, arrogant and creepy. If he wasn't a made man, he'd be dead in a gutter. Vincent didn't care about him being a made man. Ge wasn't getting paid to care. Only to kill.
As soon as he went inside Vincent made his move. He left the alleyway and made his way across the street. He looked over at the diner and saw that their were a few cops inside, mostly retired ones. Perfect. He slipped inside the bar and looked around.
There was cigarette smoke in the air, as well as the smell of stale beer and even staler vomit. The cump was in the corner, an arm around each of his dates. He wasn't facing the door. Nobody saw him enter. Brilliant. Vincent walked along the bar floor, being careful not to bumo anyone. It took him a little while, but he finally slipped behind his target. He leaned down close to the mans ear and started whispering.
"Sir, I have an urgent message for you."
The guy didn't even look up, he was staring at the blonde bimbo on his left arm. "Yeah? What is it kid?"
"The Bertinili family sends its regards." Vincent then pulled out a corkscrew, and stabbed the mafioso in the neck with it.
The guy started gurgling on his own blood, the bimbos on either side of him screamed, but Vincent wasn't concerned. He jerked out the corkscrew and stabbed him twice more with it, leaving it impaled in his throat. Then, Vincent just walked calmly to the exit. No one had any idea what was happening, until they saw the body. By then, Vincent was out the door.
He walked calmly towards the alley he came from, when he saw a guy step out of a car in front of him. He knew who the guy was instantly. Jim Gordon, the Jim Gordon. Oh shit. Vincent kept calm and continued onwards, calm as a cucumber. Until the bar door slammed open. It was one of the bimbos, she pointed at Vincent and screamed one word.
"MURDERER!"
Uh oh.
Vincent looked at Gordon. Gordon looked back. It was like a scene from the movies where two characters stared at one another before something big happened. Gordon opened his mouth to speak, but before the words even cane out, Vincent took off running.
He heard Gordon shouting behind him, but he didn't look back. The alley was too narrow for a car, so it was a foot chase. It didn't last long. The alley was a maze of twists and turns, and Vincent knew which ones to take. Within a few turns, Jim Gordon's voice started to fade away. By the time Vincent reached his car on the other side of the maze of alleyways, he couldn't hear the old windbag at all.
Vincent smiled to himself and hopped in his car. He would be home in a bit, and as soon as the late night news was on, his paycheck would practically be in the mail. There was one problem though, h3 had no idea who he killed. Oh well, it will come to him eventually. If not, he hoped his employer would tell him at least, or he'd find out in the news.
Just another job like any other. Another day, another dollar