Ryan Morgan had used several resources to canvas this hit. He was tired of it. The man had a simple routine. Every day he woke up, swam, showered, then went to work. It was clockwork. He was at work for 5 hours, then drove home before doing investment work. Ryan had looked into his portfolio and found that he was doing surprisingly well, given the state of his company. After investments, the man went for a run, then ate dinner with his wife, sitting in the same place every night, drinking the same watered down whiskey. The man read the newspaper for an hour, then proceeded to go to sleep. The contract taken out on this man was for well over $12 million, although, from what Ryan could see, there was no reason that this man was worth that much to kill. He had a will giving his possessions to charities, leaving his wife with money and then some. No one would ever get to it. He dug deeper and found that the man was smuggling cocaine in through the Mexican-American border, but figured that would be for the DEA to take care of. Why then had someone taken out a hit on this man?
Ryan shook his head, pulling his backpack tighter. Ryan was 21 years old, and could have had the world. Instead, he chose to be a contract killer. That's what happens when your father puts you into every martial art known to man, teaches you how to shoot a gun better than special ops, and use other weapons to deadly effect. The military had made his dad into a cold, callous man, and it showed in the way Ryan grew up. He wasn't "Son", instead, he was "Little Shit" or "Bastard". When Ryan was 14, he killed his first man, his father. From then on, Ryan only got better. He learned chemistry, languages, physics, law, politics, botany, and anything else that would help him get his target. So far, he had never missed.
Ryan quickly checked to make sure his H&K Mk 23 was in place, as well as the 4 daggers and 3 throwing knives. His backpack actually housed an MSR chambered for a .338 Lapua with a custom built suppressor that would make sure no one knew where the shot that killed the target was from. He made enough enemies, no one would suspect an assassin.
As Ryan was walking away, his hand quickly slipped to his back as he saw a young woman walking around. He had seen her a few times while canvasing the house, trying to find the best way to kill the old bastard before deciding a long range shot was the best way. Hey, the buyer didn't say it had to be private, but he wanted results. The woman didn't bother him, and didn't pose a threat. The threat was the 2 men in black suits with gloves quietly following her. Ryan didn't know why, but suddenly he fell in behind them, waiting to see what this was all about.
Ryan shook his head, pulling his backpack tighter. Ryan was 21 years old, and could have had the world. Instead, he chose to be a contract killer. That's what happens when your father puts you into every martial art known to man, teaches you how to shoot a gun better than special ops, and use other weapons to deadly effect. The military had made his dad into a cold, callous man, and it showed in the way Ryan grew up. He wasn't "Son", instead, he was "Little Shit" or "Bastard". When Ryan was 14, he killed his first man, his father. From then on, Ryan only got better. He learned chemistry, languages, physics, law, politics, botany, and anything else that would help him get his target. So far, he had never missed.
Ryan quickly checked to make sure his H&K Mk 23 was in place, as well as the 4 daggers and 3 throwing knives. His backpack actually housed an MSR chambered for a .338 Lapua with a custom built suppressor that would make sure no one knew where the shot that killed the target was from. He made enough enemies, no one would suspect an assassin.
As Ryan was walking away, his hand quickly slipped to his back as he saw a young woman walking around. He had seen her a few times while canvasing the house, trying to find the best way to kill the old bastard before deciding a long range shot was the best way. Hey, the buyer didn't say it had to be private, but he wanted results. The woman didn't bother him, and didn't pose a threat. The threat was the 2 men in black suits with gloves quietly following her. Ryan didn't know why, but suddenly he fell in behind them, waiting to see what this was all about.
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