Hitman!tommy - Tumblr Posts

Tommy knew he was waist deep in shady shit, but the money offered was too much to say no.

The gun pointed at his head helped too, he guessed.

He'd known that once he got himself involved in the illegal hitmen scene, he was never going to crawl out of it alive. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Neither he nor his roommates were making enough to make ends meet.

So here he was, sneaking into some snobbish rich kid's room with the intention to kill. He had snuck in to the house - no, mansion - fairly easily. A little too easily, considering that this was a rich family and they really have ought to invest in better security measures.

It was the middle of the night, when no sane person would be awake. The only light source Tommy had was the moonlight reflecting off his knife blade.

He crept quietly into his target's room, zeroing in on the lump of person under the blankets (those were really thick duvets, god these people were rich). Tommy only hesitated for a second, questioning the same question he always had whenever he did a hit:

What did this person do to deserve such a fate?

A flash of pink barely caught his eye as Tommy starts bringing the knife down, but before he could land his strike, Tommy's being pushed backwards. He topples onto the floor with a disgruntled yelp, his victim-turned-attacker pinning him to the ground, one forearm pressing dangerously on his throat and one hand holding down the wrist which held his knife.

In this awful predator-becomes-prey moment, Tommy makes two very annoying observations: his victim's hair was pink, not brown, and he was pretty certain snobbish rich kids weren't supposed to be this agile.

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed.

The figure holding him down raises an eye at him.

"What do you mean what the fuck? You just tried to kill me!"

Tommy's eyes darted around, trying to find a way out while struggling under the man.

"I know that, why the fuck are you so hard to kill? They told me you'd be this lanky-ass brunette." The words came spewing out of Tommy's mouth as if they would help him out of the predicament in any way.

"Brunette? So you are here for Wilbur."

"Yeah, Wilbur Craft - wait, so who the fuck are you - "

The bedroom lights switch on suddenly, a tall brunette man at the door. Silence fills the room, and something in Tommy clicks that the man was Wilbur Craft, the hit he received. But before he could take advantage of the small distraction, Wilbur is talking:

"They sent a child after me?"

A/N: Am I uploading a Neapolitan Trio blurb/writing idea instead of working on my WIPs? Yes, and you cannot stop me.