"Yeah, that's right you corrupted, two-faced, stealing bastard. Yeah, grind that whore." Alexei smirked as his scopes aligned on the businessman. "Everyone thinks you're an angel sent to Nevada, but let me tell you this... If you're an angel, I'm the demon." the lad chuckled as his finger rested on the trigger. "Send my regards to hell, you son of a bitch." His finger pressed the trigger as the bolt sounded. The bullet pierced through the stained-glass window, sending crimson liquid flowing on the ground with the businessman's corpse sprawled on the prostitutes panicked body. Alexei stood up, and picked up his sniper, ready to pick up his pay, and ready to kill another day.
Or so he wished....
Here he was, sitting in a cramped-ass bar with these freaks like him. He was busy chugging down a glass of milk with nothing but his clothes, and his pistol hanging by his side. Alexei eyed his so called 'team'. They weren't much, but they were worth being used for now. Perhaps, Alexei was sure that his team understood that his loyalties didn't really lie with them; rather, the gunman was just using the group as a fallback when he would fall in hot water.
Alexei eyed the bar owner, Jake. Now that man was one hell of a fanatic when it comes to heroes. Well, hopefully, Jake understood that Alexei was no hero; only an assassin. The young assassin knew that his team didn't like him for his disgusting disregard of human life.. correction, corrupted human life. Alexei was willing to dip his hands in blood when his team would pussy out of it. Now, a distress call echoed in their 'hideout'... Normally, Alexei liked distress calls, but this time, he knew who was causing trouble.
That Mr. Winters... a pathetic excuse of a villain.
Alexei eyed his companions as he grabbed his pistol, and aimed it at the cup at a further table. The gun fired as the cup shattered in a hundred pieces.
"Now... Would someone like to fix that old man before he kills himself? I mean, I could do it, but I could kill him." Alexei, known as Deadbolt to his companions, spoke in a bored tone as he twirled and placed his gun back into his belt.