A/N: Yo, it's tradition for me to create a oneshot every end of the year! What do I do? I pick an OTP I have and an AU and I write about it in at least 10k words but not go beyond 11? So, this year is Assassin AU with a couple I haven't written as a main couple: Amberprice!
Enjoy.

My job was pretty complicated. I usually told people that I "take people out" for a living and they think I mean like dating or taxi service, which makes me laugh every time I hear either of them. As much as I enjoy people's guesses, letting them think that way was way easier than really telling the truth. How the fuck would I explain it? "Hey, I actually sit in a dark room for hours with a sniper rifle and a single brick out of my wall and that's where I shoot people from. People pay me to kill them."

Yeah, great fucking conversation starter.

I lived in a building far off from any population, yet I was near enough to scope out and find someone for miles. It has been up for abandoned and standing alone for a while, since before I started this job, and finding this place was just my fucking luck. In the four years I've lived here and do this, I've killed at least two-hundred people and some change. With the prices I make, I get to do plenty of things: buy more ammo, buy weed, clean my clothes, and buy food. That was to name a few, but those were the basics I've been living off of.

Adding more to my luck, most clients coincidentally also live in the same city I stay and finding the targets were easy. The sidewalks and streets were always busy, making finding my targets hard, but finding me harder. Once in a while, I did get to travel, but it was for politicians, gang leaders, or actors. It cost me, for both me and my client, but the pay off has never tasted so good.

Right now, I had a target locked on. My old reliable sniper, a Barrett M82, has never missed a shot. Sad sap was walking alone and there were more cars than other people. It was a college kid, some trust fund shit from what my client said, and he went around sexually assaulting other dudes. I never ask for reasons why or who my clients were. All I wanted to know was my target. He was walking through the street, talking on a phone and bumping into pedestrians. I squinted my eye, getting a better angle. With a flick of my finger, the shot went right through his forehead, killing him instantly. I withdrew and put the brick back into the wall, heavily exhaling.

No matter what, I always felt nervous during every shot. I took my phone out of my jacket pocket, a burner phone, and called my customer up.

"Well?" I heard on the other side.

"The fucker's dead. Wire the cash."

"Pleasure doing business with you."

I ended the call and tossed my phone to the side. I sighed and lied down on the dusty wooden floor. All in a day's work.

After every assassination, I smoked and relaxed from the adrenaline. I go through at least two joints per day, lying down, and thinking how in the hell my life got here. I never thought about it too long, because I had a lot cash.

I still had daylight to burn, so after finishing a joint, I left there casually. I never had to pass by police or crowds. Though, lots of people have seen me and I could tell they thought I was homeless from my fucked up clothes and the place I lived in. In a way, I really was homeless and I only owned about three shirts, but I washed them like I mentioned before!

"Yo, Max," I called my friend on my real phone, "Are you done with that photo shit?"

She laughed, "Yeah, I finished now actually. Did you want to meet up for early-dinner or something?"

"Yeah, my treat," I smirked.

We only met at fast food restaurants, today was a classic McDonald's, and I always paid with the crumpled pieces of cash I had in my pockets. Max was my best friend and photographer extraordinaire, but not even she knew what I did for a living. She doesn't even ask. I stood by the entrance and waited for her to swing by any moment, hands in my pockets, and taking a deep breath of the deep fry smell.

There was a bus stop nearby and one stopped, and out came Max Caulfield, still dressed like a boring and awkward adult. She approached me with a smile and greeted me with a hug.

"Hey nerd." I patted her on the back. "How was the shoot?"

It was a pun for both me and her. She'll never know.

"It was fine. Still taking pictures of life as it is, boring, huh?" She rubbed the back of her neck.

"Nope, at least you're not homeless like me." I kept that shit up. Believable and yet also true.

"You could stay over for the night again, if you want." She grabbed the entrance door and opened it for me. "Kate won't mind."

"I know that." I said as I walked through. "Thanks, but uh, wouldn't want to barge in on you and your girl knocking boots or something."

She rolled her eyes, "Whatever, you're still welcomed whenever."

I chuckled, "I just might, since you insist."

We ordered our food, two of fries, ten-piece nuggets, and ice cream sundaes, and didn't talk again until we had our food in front of us.

"How's the wife anyway?" I asked her. I barely remember her wedding. It was too formal, because of her Christian wife, and it was so fucking boring and it went on for so long. I had to have gotten drunk that night.

"She's good. She published a children's book recently." She played with the silver ring on her finger.

I wasn't sure why, but I was angry at both of them. I hated to even fucking admit it, but I think I was jealous. Max was living her gay ass dreams and my ass was living alone with a gun and a bag of weed! Saddest shit on the planet, but I was living way a really good life right now. It was shocking to me too. I continued to eat, pushing my feelings down to the pits of hell, and continuing to make small talk with her.

Avoiding anything about myself and my work was getting easier by the day. I decided the least I could do was take Max home—I did hide my equipment under some shit I had beforehand—and rode with her on the bus to her house. Max kept asking me to stay over for the night, talking about how they recently bought their own house and so happy to not be in an apartment anymore, but I said I would prefer to go "home." Or sleep in my own place, but I said I would stay over some time soon. We still had to walk for a few blocks, which sucked.

"Are you sure?" She asked.

We stopped in front of a two-story blue house. It was white fence and grass and it was just an average suburban house. Her life was... complete.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure." I nodded to reassure her. She looked really worried, but she really shouldn't.

"Okay." She said in a sad way. "Early dinner tomorrow again?"

"Yeah, promise." I saluted her and left on a walk.

I felt a sudden chill go down my spine. It was the evening of springtime, so I wasn't cold. I remembered what I did earlier and how it was so different from what I was doing at this moment. I was killing people. I shot someone, passed the crime scene, and went out like it didn't happen. It was a second life that made me a monster and it was something I was going to have to live with. I've gotten used to it, but... I doubted that sometimes.

Speaking of the crime scene, I wasn't sure if I was going to check out the scene or not. Once in a while, I do some "hiding in plain sight" shit. It has worked every time, but I didn't want to test my luck. I headed back to the abandoned department building and waited for more work to be given.

Back at my house, I took all of my crap out of hiding and went on my laptop. I paid some dude a while ago to program it to be hidden from being tracked or found. It was useful and I've been using wifi from some motherfucker out there and checking more work and my account where all the money goes to. I was a part of a website full of hitmen, yet I was the most popular one.

I saw I had a new message. I clicked on it and started to chew on my thumb nail as I read through:

"Kill her. Rachel Amber. She's in Los Angeles right now and she loves going to clubs during the night. Call this number for more information."

A message that started like that was never a good sign. The person behind it clearly hated whoever this was and wanted her dead as soon as possible. It was vague, but something about the name pulled me in. It was smooth, rolled off the tongue, or something like that. I took the burner phone out and called the number.

"Hello?" A chick's voice answered. Kinda bitchy and really superficial from what I could hear in that greeting.

"Let's talk business. Tell me more about this Rachel Amber."

"Ah, she's a girl I go to university with. I'm sick of her being miss popular and sick of her getting everything I ever wanted. We've been "friends" for a few years, but I think now is her time. She comes from a wealthy family and I fucking hate her. She should be out right now at Create Nightclub."

"Ten grand and you have a deal."

"Perfect. You could find her with the blue feather earring on her left ear. Blonde and dragon tattoo on her leg."

She hung up after that. I tossed the phone and went through my laptop to see any news on the other guy I took down earlier and there were already a couple of reports. I didn't read any of them and went ahead to my task. She said she was out right now, so I took a different brick off another wall, and the nightclub was just angled enough that I could see the back or side of people in line. I moved my rifle and looked through the scope, trying to find a blonde, feather-wearing, and tatted up college girl partying on a Friday night.

I found her. She was in the middle of line with a couple of friends she was talking to, wearing a little black dress, and a dragon tattoo on the back of her right calf. For some reason, I started to breathe heavily. I felt my heart skip a beat. I told myself that I was nervous and I was still fucking jittery from earlier, so I gave myself a hard slap in the face and focused. I waited for the right moment, my finger right over the trigger.

There was a perfect time, her friends left her alone and she was looking down at her phone in line, then she looked up, distracted and looking across the street, enough to see her face. It was the exact moment I waited for and the pad of my finger was against the trigger, but... I wasn't pushing it.

I couldn't. I felt my mouth become very dry and my breath was caught in my throat. She was very pretty. But, what the fuck, just pull the damn trigger already! I never cared about how the person looked or even had second thoughts! I retracted from the scope, taking my hand off of my rifle.

Shit! I threw my beanie off, huffing and groaning, but I had to do it! She was a target! She had to be dead.

"Come on, bitch, you've done this before!" I gritted my teeth and look through the scope again. When I looked though, she was gone. She went inside the club and my chance was fucking gone.

"Fuck!" I slapped my hand down on the wooden floor.

I was stuck waiting there, staring at the club entrance, waiting for Rachel Amber to leave. I felt fucking pathetic. Hesitation wasn't my thing, but... I couldn't help it. Something in me didn't want to. I cringed at myself for feeling that way. I called myself a bitch two trillion times and when she finally came out of the club, she was a stumbling, fucking mess. She couldn't walk straight and she was tripping over herself.

It was another perfect opportunity. She was lost and out of it and she was alone. No one was helping her get home or even stand right, I had to take the shot!

Yet... I didn't. As much as I called myself a bitch, my finger wouldn't push the trigger.

"What is your deal?!" I yelled. There was a little good in me building up. It was kinda weird and tingly, but also kinda annoying. I actually wanted to help her? Like, okay, being shot sucks, but being assaulted was worse, right? Like, a lot worse? I debated with myself, running back and forth between the door and the window, stomping around, until I shoved my pride aside and ran out and not thinking twice of it.

I ran at full speed, going to Rachel Amber as she was walking into a dark alley, and hating myself for whatever I was doing. It was like she looked right through me and I had to grab her by the shoulders and shake her a bit. She blinked a few times and finally focused on me.

"Are you alright?" I asked out of breath. She didn't answer. Or, more like she couldn't answer. She had a distant look on her face and was swaying from side-to-side in drunk blindness. If she wasn't able to reply and since I don't fucking live anywhere, there was only one place I could take her safely and not-many questions asked.

I was basically carrying all her weight as I took her on a bus trip. She was resting on my shoulder as we sat down, reeking of alcohol and she threw up on me a couple times. The only place I knew was Max's place. She would hate to be awaken at eleven-thirty, I would too, but this girl was a fucking mess. When we were close by to her house, I put her arm on my shoulders and carried her all the way to the house.

I took my phone out and waited for Max to answer.

"Pick up, Max, come the fuck on." I said after the third missed call. I expected nothing less. After another two calls, she finally picked up.

"Chloe? Why are you calling so late?"

"This will be shocking, but," I took a deep breath, "I'm in front of your house and I have a drunk girl."

"What?!"

It took a couple minutes before Max swung the door open and quickly brought me inside. I saw the black futon couch they had in their living room and just tossed Rachel onto it. She fell with a thud, but she already passed out.

"Did you just randomly pick her up?" Max closed the front door. "Chloe, I taught you better—"

"I'm not gonna take advantage of her, holy shit!" I pushed her hard. "I saw her at the club and your house was closer, so now I'm here."

I wasn't lying to her, technically.

Max sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm gonna grab a blanket from upstairs. You should take off her shoes in the meantime."

I groaned. I already carried her around and had her barf on me, now I had to do more shit? I did as I was told and started to unbuckle her confusing heels. I tossed them behind me once they were off, hitting the floor with thumps. I heard a whimper behind me and I looked, faced with a sad-looking tiny dog. A brown, cocker spaniel I think?

"Oh, shit, sorry, Lady." I petted the dog on her head. I turned back to look at Rachel.

"You don't think I'm taking advantage of her too, right?" I asked her.

"I would hope not."

Not gonna lie, it was pretty late and I thought this dog really spoke to me. But, when I turned back to question the dog, I saw a blonde girl in a white robe standing over me with a tired smile.

"Oh, hey, Mrs. Caulfield." I weakly chuckled. "I hope I didn't wake you up or some shit like that."

"You did, but I don't mind. Max told me you just brought her here from a nightclub. It's admirable to take her in so she's not in any danger."

Fucking hell, I was the danger. She should have a bullet wound in her forehead, but instead, I was with her in my married-friend's house and she was really drunk. It was for night, I had to convince myself, one night and I'll act like this never happened.

"Also, don't call me Mrs. Caulfield. That's so weird."

"Do you want me to say your first name?"

"It's preferred."

"Will do, Kate."

Max came back from upstairs and had a large blue blanket folded in her arms. She shoved the blanket right in my face. "You do it."

"What the fuck—"

"We have work tomorrow, Chloe. We need to sleep. We'll make it up to you in the morning, okay?"

I sneered, but I grabbed the blanket out of her hand. "Whatever, goodnight."

They left upstairs and Lady followed them up. I stood up and unfolded the blanket, draping it over Rachel from the shoulders down. I went upstairs, passing wedding photos, photos of their pets like their dog Lady and their rabbits, Roger and Bugs, and various pictures of places they've been and hobbies they did. Their lives were just so... so fucking perfect.

Ugh, I was happy too! Not with how I got here, but all the cash I had was so awesome. I think.

I kicked my shoes off, and took off my jacket covered in vomit, and jumped into the guest bed, arms behind my head, and loudly sighing. For the first time, I let a target live. Somewhere in my body, I wanted to be proud of that, but I knew better than to do this. I wanted to scream and punch the walls, but I wasn't all that mad. I hated that so fucking much. I turned on the TV in the room to distract me from my thoughts.

"Twenty-three-year-old Nathan Prescott was found dead today while on his way through Downtown L.A. This is believed to be an assassination and another victim in recent sniper killings waving over Los Angeles. More at six."

That didn't help whatso-fucking-ever. I turned it off again, lying in the dark. Somehow, even after shooting everyone else, I wasn't going to be able to sleep because I let her live.

When I woke up the next morning, my door was open and it wasn't all that bright out. Fuck, waking up early was the worst. Waking up early in a house that wasn't even mine topped that. I got up and strapped my boots on, stretching and cracking my back, arms, and neck, and heading downstairs to the kitchen for a snack. As I went down, I remember Rachel was down there and I was scared she was up before all of us.

And my biggest fear came true. Rachel was not in the futon, but her heels were still in the same spot I left them.

I never found the living room creepy until now. It was a simple and brown-colored living room, but as I turned on the light, I was put off from the different vibe.

Before I could think more, I was hit over the head and back and I fell down to the ground face first with a scared, inhumane screech. I grunted as I turned around and saw Rachel with a camera tripod over her head, ready to swing again.

"Wait–wait–wait!"

She swung down again, crying out as she put all her strength into it. I rolled to the side and out of the way. She continued to yell and swing at me until I hit a wall. She was able to get another hit on me.

"I can explain!" I got up, losing my balance for a second, and grabbed the tripod. "Listen to me!"

Her eyes were wide, she was breathing heavily, and she was still kinda drunk. She put the tripod down, but didn't say anything.

"I saw you at the club and you were walking out all drunk and shit." I let go of the tripod and kept my hands up defensively. "I was scared for you so I took you here. This is my friends' house. They're married and gay. We're not gonna murder you."

Or at least, they weren't gonna murder you.

She calmed down from that, sighing deeply and running her hands down her face. It ruined her makeup slightly, especially her eyeliner that streaked down her cheeks. I didn't know if I even felt bad or whatever, I was as confused as her!

"Thanks, I guess." She sat down on the futon, resting her head on her hands. "God, I'm such a wreck."

"Hell yeah you are. You ruined my jacket."

She looked up at me with an angry look on her face. "Fucking blow me, you didn't have to take me home!"

"Well sorry for thinking about your safety!" I scoffed and folded my arms.

I was really regretting it for a second. Just a second, because I knew she was feeling like shit. And she wasn't mad for that long. After that little burst, she was calm again and really taking in the situation.

"I don't remember anything..." She admitted. "The last thing I saw was going inside the nightclub and that was it."

"You party pretty hard, don't you?" I shrugged my shoulders.

"Maybe," She stood up again and passed me, picking her heels up again. "But, I'm going home. I don't stay in strangers home all that much. Thanks for taking me in for the night. See you around."

She left out the front door without looking back at me. I should leave too, but I think Max would prefer to see me for the morning. There were so many chances, we were alone and I could have done something while she was passed out even! What the hell was I doing?

After taking a really long shower, I left with my jacket hung on my arm. On the way out, I dropped my burner phone and stomped it under my foot, kicking it to the side on the sidewalk. I took another bus and walked the last mile to my building. Like I expected, I felt a lot worse for not killing her. I also hated how I was still thinking about her.

I had to get my shit together as I went back to the highest floor and checked up on my work. I huffed, yelled "shit!" and then went back to what I was doing. I got a message on my computer, but it wasn't a new customer.

"Is she dead yet?"

Fuck, this person needed her dead right now. I had to come up with an excuse, fast. Though, telling them to fuck off would be really fun to do. What was I saying? I had to shoot her! I had to stop developing this stupid emotional attachment to her.

"Target is still alive. She was out of range and constantly moving. Deal still on?"

I looked through my scope again and didn't see much. The streets were full of speeding cars, getting to work or school, and making nearly impossible to find anyone significant. I checked my laptop for a message.

"Yes, but if this happens again, I'll lower the price. Find her at AADA."

Damn it, a price has never been lowered before. If I wanted cash that badly, I had to travel. I wasn't sure what the hell the AADA even was. But, it sounded like it was towards the middle of the city. I huffed as I moved my rifle and shoved the brick back into the wall. I stood up, hearing my knees crack, and started cover up all of my shit before I left. I had a gun against my back in my pants and a knife in my boot—in case I couldn't shoot her from a distance. I left again, disappearing into the streets of people.

Turns out, AADA was a school for dramatic arts. It was an acting school apparently, so another fact about Rachel Amber: she was a hell of an actress.

The school building was a reddish-brown and surrounded by a metal, white fence. I wasn't going to be able to get in freely, so that was out of the question. As I circled around and staring up at the building more than where I was going, and I ended up bumping into someone and falling on my ass.

"Watch where you're go—" I couldn't finish yelling at the person. I already knew who it was.

"Oh," I got up and dusted myself off, "It's you."

Rachel stood in front of me, pissed off, and just as shocked to see me again in the same day.

"I should saying that to you." She folded her arms. "What are you doing? Following me?" She walked passed me, bumping her shoulder into mine.

"What, am I not allowed to walk around?" I yelled. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the futon today. I scoffed and was ready to walk away, but then I suddenly heard laughing behind me. I had to turn, and I saw Rachel smiling and coming back to me.

"How was that?" She asked.

"How was what?" I raised my brow, completely confused.

"This is an acting school, you big dummy!" She stated. "I was acting. Did I get you?"

"Yeah, I was ready to slap the shit out of you." I smirked, both impressed and still pissed. That feeling was going away fast though; her smile was becoming more contagious.

"I'm so scared." She rolled her eyes. "I'm glad to see you again, actually."

"Oh," I physically froze up. For whatever reason, I couldn't move. Maybe it just felt good to be around someone that wasn't Max, Kate, or dead. "Really?"

"Yeah, I wanted to thank you, seriously, for taking me somewhere safe. Turns out, I had a little too much." She said with more sincerity.

"No bullshit?"

"Nope." She shook her head. "Judging by the pictures I looked at and the label on your jacket, the two that are hella "married and gay" are Max and Kate and you're Chloe. I'm also sorry for throwing up on your jacket."

Like a lame ass, I had my name written in marker on the label of it. It was really childish and had no purpose because I wore it every day. I couldn't be embarrassed by it, since she already saw it.

"That doesn't explain why you attacked me."

"We're strangers and I was hella drunk in a home I didn't know? Hell, we're still strangers right now."

I wanted it to stay that way! I actually wanted to talk to her and hold a damn conversation, what in the actual fuck was happening to me? I already knew everything I needed to know about her, so why should I keep talking to her? I could walk away like a rude ass, but my legs weren't moving.

"So, Rachel, drunk ass you found on the street." She introduced herself. Yeah, tell me something I didn't know already.

"You already know my name, so there'd be no point for saying it."

"That's all I know. And the fact that there was a picture of you hella off your ass at a wedding." She chuckled. Hella? What kind of fucking word was that?

Yep, that was... I was really fucked up. I was proud in a way, fucking it up, but then again it was documented forever in a single photo of me dead as hell on a table. Nothing screamed "best woman" better than that shit.

"I was fucking it up." I shrugged my shoulders.

She lightly laughed. Something in me laughed too, weak and forced down, but a smile was on my face. I cleared my throat and avoided any more eye contact, because I knew I was taking it too far—maybe even further than that—the longer this went on.

"Hey, you should come along with me." Rachel grabbed my wrist with a firm grip.

"What?" I was taken aback by that, however, I didn't want to say no. Something about this Rachel was so... fuck, I didn't want to say no and I didn't know why!

"I know this hella cool place we could go. I do it all the time. Come on, Chloe." She started to pull me along towards the opposite direction of where I came from.

I still didn't refuse or protest and followed her to wherever she wanted to take me.

I felt like I was gonna pass out. I never interacted with people who I had to kill, let alone walk by them. This shit was making me lose my mind, because my brain and my body had two different ideas. What could I personally gain from doing things like this? I had to push that shit aside, she wasn't Rachel, she wasn't a friend, but she was a target. She was worth ten grand and that was it...

But, she was Rachel. It felt like she wanted to be friends with me. She wasn't anything else at the moment, except Rachel Amber.

Rachel pulled me along the whole way. She took me to an abandoned building, thank fuck that it wasn't the one I was living in, down and deep within a street no one fucking lived in. It used to be a business, maybe a technology one based on the broken sign at the very top.

"You do this a lot?" I asked her.

"You could say that." She grabbed the rusty metal door to pull or push it open, but it wasn't budging open. "Shit, we need another way in."

I couldn't back out now. I had another plan in mind, since I was gaining her trust quickly. The plan started with the person that wanted my service in the first place, give more time for a different attack. I've never had to use a handgun or a knife, but with everything working out like this, I had no choice. I didn't notice that Rachel had left and searched around the building for an entrance. When she came back, she hit me on my arm for my attention.

"Hey, have any ideas on how to get in there?"

"I'm pretty average at picking locks." I grabbed the doorknob again, making sure it was really locked. "If you give me some time, I'll get us in here."

Rachel folded her arms and watched me as I squatted down. "Do you have anything that could help with it?"

She started to dig through her pockets and her bag. "Uh, I have a few bobby pins." She whipped out five from her back pocket.

"Good enough." I took two from her and started to use my mediocre skills to the test. I doubt I was going to actually get in, but for whatever fucking reason, I still wanted to try and get in somehow. I bent the bobby pins and started to bend and turn in any way I could, doing the trial and error shit.

Five literal minutes passed and it still wasn't budging.

"Fuck you door!" I punched my fist into it, but I still continued to play around with the lock. I heard Rachel chuckle behind me.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"I got this, Rachel." I said with full confidence. I eventually found the click I needed that unlocked the door. I pulled the bobby pins out and kicked the door open, making dust and dirt fly everywhere around us. As we swatted away at it, I threw the bobby pins on the ground, since she didn't need those useless shits anymore.

"Good job, Chloe." Rachel praised me. She grabbed my wrist and started to explore around the abandoned building.

The first thing I've noticed was how some of the rooms seemed burnt and, in the back of the building, there was a giant, gaping hole going out one room. It seemed to be abandoned because some shit blew up or caught on fire. There was still furniture and pictures on the walls, fucked up and had lost their colors. The only thing I could think of was how Max would lose her fucking mind in this place and how she would take so many pictures that she'll run out of film.

Rachel was busy looking through and finding things for herself, keeping little items like light bulbs and forks into her bag. I couldn't judge her, my place basically looked exactly like this place, so her keeping souvenirs wasn't the weirdest part about this. We then found a door leading to the emergency stairs, leading to the very top on the roof. At one point when her back was turned, I slid my knife out of my boot and had it ready in a stabbing position. I was pretty close to her, nearly pressing the edge against her, but that voice in the back of my head made me put it back.

"Catch me if you can!" Rachel yelled and then ran up the stairs. I caught onto her pretty quickly, grabbing onto her shirt and arms, but she got out of my grip right away. I was really laughing with her, not forced or faked, but it was very genuine and it was kinda scary to me. I was actually having fun and enjoying her company. We arrived to the roof, sun shining above us. The roof was covered in graffiti, stuff about "Dead Here" and "silence kills you faster."

"What now?" I said out of breath. Was she gonna jump? That made me feel... nervous? What the hell...

"Well, I like watching the sunset." Rachel said. "And I stay until I see the stars." She walked towards the ledge and sat down, letting her legs hang over the side. I heavily sighed, but I followed her anyway.

"You like space?" I asked.

"Stars are hella pretty to me," she said. "They remind me of how much there is out there, you know?"

I hummed, "Right. You just go to buildings and watch the sunset and look at space and that's it?"

She chuckled, "If you word it like that, it sounds boring. Where I have to stay... It's pretty shitty. My roommates don't really like me and it gets hella lonely, so I go to places and, somehow, places like this felt more like home."

I said nothing. What could I possibly say in this situation? She found junk and light-years of stars was more comforting to her than a real person. That... made me feel shitty for what I had to do.

"Sorry, that was probably more than you wanted to know." Rachel forcibly laughed.

"It's cool." I gave a side smile to her. "Why did you take me along with you? I thought you said we were stranger and shit like that."

"You're way more trustworthy than anyone I already knew. My friends and my roommates would have left me out there. And I've never taken anyone with me to places like this before, so I decided, right in front of my school, to take you with me."

To use her word, everything she was venting was making me feel hella shitty. This was how it was like: getting to know your targets and thinking of them as human beings. Hesitantly, I put my arm around her in a sad attempt to make her feel... wanted? Was that the right word? That girl that hired me to kill her, she said they were friends, or she faked to be. Just the thought of killing her made me guilty.

"That's... hella fucked up." I mumbled. She weakly laughed and rested her head on my shoulder.

"You use that word too?"

"I'm using it because you use it."

"It's a California thing."

After that, we went on a long conversation about basically anything we could think of. We learned we had the same music taste, same ideas, and the same future plans of getting out of Los Angeles and do something more. I learned more about her than I wanted to, but I didn't hate it. I didn't hate myself anymore. She wasn't ten thousand dollars to me anymore; she was just Rachel Amber.

We were so invested in talking that we missed the sunset and we were now surrounded by a purple sky and billions of twinkling stars.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Rachel asked.

It was fucking cheesy, but I looked at her and said, "Yeah..."

"This is hella nice. Thanks for not running away when I acted like a dick to you."

I chuckled, "Eh, I've dealt with worse."

She sighed and got off of me, making me put my arm down. "We should get going. You need to get home and I'll be locked out in the hallway again if I stay out too long."

Yeah... Home...

"I'll walk you back then." I got up from the edge and helped her up. "I could run or take a bus to my place."

"You don't want me to walk you home? I did drag you here after all." We started to walk together down the stairs again.

"Nope," I shook my head. "I stay out all the time, so let me take you home."

She smirked and bumped her arm into mine. "Next time, you can drag me around somewhere."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Halfway down the stairs, I was feeling uneasy. I was almost on guard. Like, there was something wrong nearby or dangerous. I didn't want to stop her or make her worried too. I kept that thought to myself. We were on the third floor when we heard movement. Rachel and I stopped and looked at both of each other with wide eyed looks. She lifted a finger to her lips, silently shushing me. She went down the stairs and went down the hall to follow the noise. She kept her feet quiet as she approached each entrance.

At the forth door, a gloved hand reached out and grabbed her neck. She was pulled in, not able to let out another sound.

"Rachel!" I called out.

I ran down the stairs and went into the room, hearing Rachel's choked gasps and coughs. I took my gun off my back. I held it up, ready to aim and fire at whoever was there.

"Don't get fucking closer!" A girl's voice. The streetlight outside barely lit up the room. I could make out one person wearing only black and Rachel in her grip, hand over her mouth and a hunting knife against her neck.

"What do you want from us?!" I demanded. I kept my gun up.

"I want this bitch fucking dead, that's what I want!" She yelled. "It's been a long time coming!"

I could see Rachel was afraid. Her eyes were as wide they could be. Her hands were shaky. She desperately wanted to move. I took one step and the stranger yelled, "Don't take another step!"

"Let's talk about this!" I yelled, sweating bullets. "Take me instead!"

"I don't want you! You could walk away right now and forget this. Forget her!"

I breathed heavily through my mouth. I had to think of the worst way this could go. I couldn't shoot for the head, I could get Rachel. I couldn't shoot anywhere else, the knife was too close. I had to talk it out or take a shot.

"You're pissing me off, leave! Now!" She pointed the knife at me. I started to walk slowly. I still couldn't tell who it was.

"That's it!" She threw Rachel to the side, crashing to the ground with a thud. The stranger charged at me with her knife. I panicked and shot at her legs. Getting her right in the thigh, making her fall and throw the knife. It cut my arm, right near the shoulder, deep enough for blood to go down my arm. I shot again, putting holes in her arms. She was screaming in pain, but it was my chance.

I put the gun on my back again and helped Rachel up from the ground. She was still stunned and stiff as she got to her feet again. The only thing she said was, "Your arm..."

"Come on, Rachel!" I cried. Now I was the one pulling her. We ran out of the building as the stranger screamed, "Fuck you!" over and over again at us.

When we were outside, we continued to run until we were out of that rundown part of town until we saw a bus stop.

"Run home," I told her, "I'll be okay."

"No," she started to take her flannel shirt off. "You're gonna bleed out." She crumpled it together and shoved it against my arm, soaking up my blood and hiding the rest that had drenched my arm.

She continued, "I'll take you to my place. There isn't much and we might get locked out, but I'll find a way. Let me take you home."

We took a late-night bus ride to her house. She helped me by putting my arm around her shoulders, letting me rest my weight on her. Small, enough to fit four people, and was on her campus. It was next to similar looking houses of different colors. Her house, however, had no lights on.

"My friends left to party." She said. "Shit..." She then took my arm off her and bent down to look under the welcome mat. She happily gasped as she stood straight again, holding a key in her hand.

"Finally, some thoughtful fucking roommates." She unlocked her door and helped me inside.

When she turned on the light, the living room and kitchen was fucking messy and covered in dirty clothes and food everywhere. I was more impressed than disgusted; Four girls could create hella damage.

She locked the door, "Okay, come on, you have to clean up." She helped me again, getting through the piles of clothes and old food towards a bedroom. The room was insanely clean. I didn't have time to really look at the whole room as Rachel took me into the personal bathroom and closing the door. She started the water in the tub, waited for it to get hot, and turned to me again.

"Okay, take your shirt off."

"Excuse me?"

"Take it off." She reached out and held the end of my tank top, lifting it slightly. "And give me my flannel back, I have to wash that too." I handed her shirt and hesitated to take my own off, but did so, giving that to her too.

She stared at me, up and down, and then cleared her throat. "Okay, um, shower and I'll be back to treat your cut."

She left and sneaked one last look at me. I smirked. This night was becoming very interesting.

I showered in warm water, got all my blood off my arm, and cleaned my wound with soap. When I turned the water off, there was instantly a knock on the door.

"Can I come in yet?" It was only Rachel.

I scoffed as I got out and dried, putting only my boyshorts again. Being the asshole I was, I wanted her to just walk in while I was still just in this, just to mess with her for a bit. After I dried my hair enough, I said, "Sure, I guess."

She walked in and then was shocked to see me nearly naked still. "What the fuck, you could get dressed first!"

"You're still looking." I smirked.

"You're not gonna get dressed?"

I folded my arms, "Nope."

She groaned and rolled her eyes, "Okay, fine, whatever." She had bandages ready in her hand and started to wrap it around my cut. She was clearly trying to avoid looking anywhere else but my arm, even when she had to cut the bandage and put tape to hold it down. The smirk hasn't left my face yet.

She left the bathroom, refusing to say anything else. I chuckled under my breath as I left too, still only wearing my underwear.

"What are you doing?" She asked, almost amused. She was sitting on her bed with her phone. Her room was purple, with lots of acting-related stuff hanging on the walls and various items resting on her desk, dresser, and hanging on her wall, probably the things she took from her explorations.

"I'm hella comfortable around you, so here I am." I shrugged my shoulders.

"You're lucky the door's locked." She tossed her phone to the side.

"Are they here?" I nearly panicked. Damn, I wanted to freak her out, not everyone else.

She laughed, "No, but now I wish they were."

I forced a laugh. My mind wandered back to my mission, my real mission. It was another perfect opportunity: home alone, in her own place where she was safe, and my weapons were still hidden in the bathroom. But, it was the worst feeling in the world right now. I didn't know what I truly wanted to do or what I wanted at all.

"You're not gonna tell me to change?" I awkwardly chuckled.

Rachel stayed quiet, gazing at me. She got out of bed and came up to me, still looking at me with a seductive look in her eye. They were beckoning and I never used that fucking word. She pulled me into a deep kiss, hands on my face and neck, and slipping her tongue into my mouth. I pulled her in, holding her against me, as if my life depended on it. It was demanding and breathless and we just wanted more. We continued to kiss, harder and deeper with a want and need, clumsily walking towards her bed and landing on it. Listening to her moans, sharp gasps, and low, raspy curses in between our lips made me hot and wanting to hear it louder. I lifted her shirt off and threw it off to the side, kissing and sucking on her neck and collarbone. My hands fumbled for her pants, unbuttoning and unzipping it, pulling them off her.

"Want to keep going?" I asked in a low growl. It felt like I was asking myself that out loud.

She seemed dazed as she giggled. She pulled me in again for a deep yet gentle kiss, using all her strength to flip us around, making her straddle me, "Yeah, do you?"

I was in this far. I replied by kissing her again. She pushed me down as she kissed, licked, and sucked down my neck, chest, and stomach. She gently kissed my thighs as her hands grabbed onto my underwear and pulled them off.

The night was unforgettable. She started out dominant, but when it was my turn, she was weak under me. Rachel was scratching my back, but I stayed slow and gentle with her. It was different from the kiss and from how I acted, but the way she sounded and how vocal she allowed herself to be was a huge turn on.

I woke up before her the next morning. She was lying on top of me, head against my chest, and sleeping peacefully. Shit, I really let this happen... I rubbed my eyes and let out a yawn, thinking about what just happened. I had sex with someone I was supposed to kill for ten thousand dollars and I was now in bed with her, completely naked, after said-sex. Was there regret? No. Did I have true feelings for her? ... I wasn't sure.

Rachel then mumbled and lifted her head up, rubbing her eyes and blinking at me. She smiled and giggled when she saw me, "Good morning, stranger."

"Oh, I'm still a stranger?" I cocked an eyebrow. "Even after everything we did?"

She gave me another kiss, "Good morning, Chloe. Do you want to talk about last night?"

"It was hella amazing." I smirked. "What did you think?"

She sighed dreamily, "I was gonna say that." She sat up and stretched her arms. She grabbed her shirt from the ground and put it on. She putting her clothes back on until I asked, "What are we?"

She walked back to me, kissed my cheek, and just smiled.

After that, I was focusing more on her than my job. I did go back to my abandoned building and continued to do my work, but worked with other clients and thoroughly ignoring the one that called for Rachel. I was working with clients for higher prices and over time, I didn't really give a shit anymore about it. About six months passed before she decided to stop messaging completely. I was able to take care of Rachel with everything I had, but the longer we were together, the more she wanted to see my house.

I stared through my sniper scope as I focused on my target. It was nearing midnight, she was standing alone at a bus stop. I flicked my finger, taking her out instantly and shattering the glass of the bus stop behind her. I was a thousand dollars richer.

I let out a huff and grabbed my real phone, calling up Max. I had to call two times before she answered.

"Hello?" She sounded hella tired.

"Yo," I greeted. "What's up?"

"Chloe, it's passed midnight, what's up?"

"I wanted to ask if I could see you tomorrow? It's the weekend after all and we haven't seen each other in a couple months."

"Uh... sure. Come over during breakfast, we'll treat you to some grub."

"You're awesome, Mad Max. See you tomorrow."

I hung up and pressed my hand against my forehead, heavily sighing as I thought about, well, Rachel. I've been spending time at her place and met her roommates, two of them and they were fucking pricks. We haven't fucked again since that one night, which was kinda comforting. Rachel didn't talk about being lonely anymore, but she took me to abandoned buildings a couple times. This job was taking a toll of me, slowly, because I was being dishonest with her.

My phone suddenly rang again, scaring me out of my thoughts. I checked the ID and it was Rachel and her smiling face.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Chloe! Help! I'm at the same building—" Scared. She was scared. The call didn't end, but it sounded like she was far.

"Rachel?! Oh, my god, Rachel where are you?!"

"Hello." It was a familiar voice. The girl who called to get Rachel killed.

"What did you do to her, you fucker?!" I slammed my fist on the ground.

"Oh, nothing, just got her tied up and holding a gun against her head, so please cooperate and no one will get hurt."

I gulped, dry and breathing hard. "Okay, anything... don't hurt her."

"Tomorrow. Go to the building Rachel talked about. The first one. Come at six p.m. sharp with your rifle. Don't be late." Then she hung up. I dropped my phone and started to hyperventilate. Clutching my chest, I had so many thoughts running through my mind. That person knew who I was. I had to see Max. Fast.

I couldn't sleep that night. I fixed my rifle, taking the bullets out and putting the safety on, and put it in a bag I had for it. This life... This life was fucking shit. I had hella cash, but it wasn't worth putting Rachel's life in danger. That morning, I went straight to Max's house and finally admit what I've been doing the whole time. I was so fucking nervous, I felt like I was gonna pass out at any second. The first thing I did when I got to her place was bang my fist against the door.

Max opened the door, looking like she was worried and shocked at the same time. "Chloe, why are you—"

"No time to explain." I entered her home and placed my bag down on the couch. "I have to tell you something."

Kate didn't seem to be home; she must have left already for work. I paced back and forth in the middle of the living room, letting anxiety and panic set in. Yet, I was angry too. My anger made me too calm and the only thing I wanted to do was kill her.

"Wait, Chloe, what's going on?" Max grabbed my arms and stopped me from pacing. I huffed through my nose as I felt irritation and furrowed my eyebrows.

"I never told you what I've been doing. It's been fucking me up! I have to tell you!"

Hysterical was a good word, but I was bat-shit crazy. Max knew that too.

"Chloe, you could tell me anything." She made out.

"I... I killed people for a living." I shut my eyes as I said it. "I'm the one shooting people! I'm the Los Angeles Sniper or whatever they call me! I'm a fucking monster, I—" I suddenly felt sick and ran to her kitchen sink, vomiting my insides out. "Fuck!"

"Chloe, why would you do this?" Max kept her distance from me.

"I had nowhere else to go! Nothing else I could do." I balled my hands into fists. "I needed money for myself. But I'm telling you all of this because I want to stop! Someone has Rachel!"

It was too much shit for Max. Her mouth was hanging open and she was frozen in place. She started to scoff and look around in disbelief, "Chloe, why—Who has who? I can't believe you were the one that—What am I supposed to say?!"

"I just needed to get it out before I quit! You deserved to know." I grabbed her shoulders. "I have to go somewhere and... I don't know what's gonna happen."

"What do you mean?" She was still in shock, but she wasn't stepping back or acting like she was afraid of me.

"I've been... I've been with someone for half a year, but I got a call from her and it wasn't her voice. She was fucking kidnapped and it was all my fault!"

"Chloe, don't blame yourself!"

"It's me!" I shook her, "I know the person's voice... I have to go at six tonight and I'll let myself die if that meant Rachel's safe. "

"I can't let you do this! We'll call the police and—"

"Just let me have this! If I die tonight, just know that I love you and her and that I'm sorry for what I did..."

We were hella silent after that. Max pulled me into a tight hug, "I forgive you..."

For the rest of the time, I stayed over and sat breakfast and lunch with her, talking about anything other than later.

I left with my rifle on my back and left thirty minutes before six. I went back to the rundown part of town to the same abandoned building I had to break into for Rachel. The sun was setting and making it harder to see into rooms. I had to run through a check every room and hallway, only to come up empty and ran upstairs.

My heart was ready to fucking burst as I reached the roof. Every room was empty and if they weren't here, then I was too late. I slammed the door open and saw two people on the roof: Rachel, tied up on the floor with cloth around her eyes and mouth, and another wearing all black with their back turned to me.

"Hey!" I yelled. Rachel tried to move and follow my voice.

The person turned around. She had short, blonde hair and was holding a hunting knife in her hand—The same one that cut my arm. "You actually came. You deserve a prize."

"Okay, here I fucking am!" I dropped my bag on the ground. "What do you want from me?"

"I want to watch you shoot her." She reached behind her back and took out a glock, pointing it directly at me. "If you don't, I'll shoot you, then her."

"I won't gain shit from this!"

"Oh, you will. I have forty thousand in this bag right here." She threw the bag on her back and tossed it to me, landing halfway in between us. "Once you've done your job, we'll walk away, you take the cash and I'll take out the trash. Open it if you think I'm lying."

I kept an eye on her as I approached and bent down towards the bag. Bundles and stacks of cash sat in the bag; one million had to be inside.

"Now," she began, "I'll be counting down. If you don't shoot her, I'll shoot you."

"How did you know that I was the one who did this?"

"I have my ways." She smirked at me. "I'm counting, hurry up." She grabbed Rachel by her hair and held her in place. Rachel continued to struggle.

I couldn't move. I haven't been able to think straight or act on anything. I didn't care for this anymore. I had to fight back.

Before I thought about it longer, a loud noise filled my ears and a sharp pain went through my ankle. I immediately fell to the ground, losing feeling in my left leg, and screaming out the pain I felt.

"Come on, bitch. You were okay shooting everyone else. You shot me too, you know."

I could barely think. My blood was pumping. It was spilling out of my leg. My vision was blurring.

"Please... kill me instead..." I begged. I used all my strength to get up. I was kneeling with my good leg until she shot again, straight through my knee. Useless. My legs were fucking useless.

"Why would I keep her alive? Your job was to get rid of her, but I have to do all the work." She scoffed. I could hear footsteps approaching me and the cold metal gun against my temple. "How pathetic."

I shut my eyes, ready for the bullet to go right through my head. I opened it a squint and looked up at Rachel, the cloth over her eyes fell off, and watched me with fear in her eyes.

The door to the rood slammed open, followed by sounds of running. "Get down!" I heard behind me. "Get down on the ground! Now!"

I passed out after that, catching a glimpse of Rachel before everything turned pitch black.

"Price!" I heard, along with banging against metal bars.

I woke up, grumbling, and feeling the stiff bed under me. Gray, cold, and dark was all this was. My orange jumpsuit was the brightest thing I saw.

"You have a visitor." The officer unlocked the barred door and slid it to the side.

I huffed and got up. Since what happened, my legs became completely paralyzed and had to use a wheelchair to get anywhere. I used my arms to get out of bed and land into my wheelchair next to my bed, and left out the cell. There wasn't much on the inside, either. It was just free period for everyone else but me, stuck in the cell all day and night.

Apparently, the woman who hired me to kill Rachel Amber was Victoria Chase, some bitch with a lot of time and money on her hands, followed me around and was the one who tried to kill Rachel the first time. Police happened to come through and found us, allowing Victoria to say I was the one who shot all those people in Los Angeles. I wasn't arrested until I was in the hospital. My trial didn't last very long and I was given fifteen life sentences with no possibility of parole. Right now, I was going on thirty years old and six years into my sentence.

The officer pushed me towards the exiting door where the visiting area was. I remember it well: a glass window, a phone on each side, and five minutes to say anything. I expected Max to be the one there, since she showed me the outside world again with her pictures. It was the least she could do, now that I was rotting away. They were nice, but made me sad at the same time.

But, when I arrived to the window, I saw her again. She was still hella beautiful and seeing her again made me smile. Memories and nostalgia hit me when I noticed she was wearing a plaid t-shirt.

I grabbed the telephone on the side and she did the same thing. "Hi Rachel."

"Hey Chloe," she smiled back. "How are you?"

"Other than being in prison until I die and no feeling in my legs? Pretty good. What about you?"

Rachel giggled, "Exhausted. I just finished filming for another movie."

"Oh yeah, the one with, uh... that motherfucker, what's his name? Frank?"

She nodded, "Yeah, him... I miss you so much."

"I miss you more. You don't have to stay with me, you know? You could go out and date other people and get married and have kids and—"

"Because you're the only one I trust. I love you, Chloe Price, there's no one else out there like you." She pressed her lips together. "We talked about this every single time we meet. I've made up my mind."

She wiped away at her cheeks. I felt like crying just from seeing her like this, "I love you too." I pressed my hand against the glass window, "Hey, wanna know why I hope you'll live to be a hundred?"

"Why?" She pressed her hand too, like we were touching.

"I'll live one hundred minus one... so I'll never have to live without you."