Nothing Gay About Two Hot Strangers in a Hotel Room

"Someone as cute as you can afford to run late," he said, chuckling. "Nobody will remember you were late once they see you."

"I don't see women often," he replied, giving Crow an odd look. "I use tactics that impress men."

He chuckled.

"You'd be surprised at how many assassin's swing both ways," he smiled.

"I'm not one of them," he replied, shrugging. "Homosexuals are kind of disgusting, don't you think? I mean, what's wrong with women?"

Seagull had never actually been with a woman, but the pictures in porn were pretty nice.

"There's nothing wrong with women, or men, or anything inbetween if that's what you like," he shrugged himself, toying with the end of his braid. "Some people don't care who they sleep with as long as they're attractive."

"I don't get it," he replied. "I don't want to. I'm a businessman first and foremost."

-x-

This had been one of the more interesting jobs, Crow had to admit. He had been paid very, very good money to kill the man so coldblooded. He had humiliated him and then killed him in cold blood. He liked more interesting jobs. It gave him something to do.

He had taken pictures and was to give them to the man who had hired him. Fairly standard procedure for something as specific as this. He just had to clean up the body now.

Seagull walked slowly into the warehouse, his gun at the ready.

When he had arrived at the apartment, there had been no one there. Any normal person would have gone home at that point, but with almost a decade of experience in the business of killing others, Seagull was no normal person. Instead, he hurried to find Chernikov's trail before it grew cold; after hours, his search had lead him to this place, a small warehouse not too far from the docks. Things weren't looking good.

He quietly inched toward a corner and pressed his back against the wall. He held his gun at the ready, bracing himself to turn and face the rest of the warehouse. He barely permitted himself to breath, but his heart felt as loud as a jet turbine.

Crow was busy cleaning the blood as well as other bodily fluids. He had his arms folded and his hair braided down his back as he rubbed at a particular stain with his over the rag. He was no fan of the clean-up process. Maybe he'd hire someone.

When Seagull finally turned the corner, he faltered for a moment and almost dropped his gun. As he did so, he took a loud step forward, then froze.

He was too late.

Crow had his gun drawn and pointed at Seagull before he could react. Then, he hesitated for a brief second. But he couldn't be sure it was who he thought it was.

"Who are you?"

"I should be asking that," he replied, keeping his gun aimed at Crow. "Only, I think I know--Crow, isn't it?" The voice was unmistakable, and his hands tightened on his gun.

"So it is you, Seagull," he replied, and now his grip on the gun tightened. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing to Cherni...my target?" he asked, his voice cracking as he spoke. "Why did you kill him?"

"Me? Your target?" Crow thought for a moment, thinking back on the information he'd been given. The man who had hired him said nothing about hiring anyone else. He had lied. Or, Seagull was lying. But considering the fact that he called the target by his name, Crow was near certain that the man who'd hired him had failed to give him all the details.

"I was hired to kill him," he replied truthfully. "I wasn't told of anyone else's involvement...which means I was lied to."

"...Keep talking," he said, not lowering his weapon. "Who hired you?"

"I suspect the man who hired you. He didn't give me his name, but he enjoyed wearing oversized jewelry and sweatpants," Crow explained. "Are you through with pointing that gun at me? I'm tired of pretending we're going to kill one another."

He swore loudly in Russian. "Yes, that would be the man.

"On the other hand, I have no intention of dropping my weapon. Who said I was pretending?"

He nodded at the mess Crow had been cleaning. "I knew him. It would be fair if I killed you."

Crow scoffed at the mere idea.

"Don't be ridiculous. We're both assassins here. You knew when you said yes to your first paid killing that you'd eventually have to kill someone you knew. Don't pretend you didn't expect this to happen."

"Sure, sure. But I didn't kill him--you did. Shouldn't you die, just for that? For stealing my job?"

His hands ceased their shaking, and something about his posture became unnervingly calm.

"If you want some form of justice for me stealing your job, then fine. I'll make it up to you, but not with my life. That's ridiculous," he replied. "I'll do something else, but I won't die."

"And what exactly do you propose?" he asked.

"Whatever you want," he said, smiling. "Just not my life."

"I don't know, taking your life seems pretty fair--almost poetic, huh? And just think, if I kill you, I get to be the number one assassin."

Crow laughed despite himself.

"That's not how it works," he replied. "Furthermore, I don't think you can kill me anyway so don't waste the effort. You'll just end up dead."