So, I got a prompt for an assassin AU, and once I had sifted through the many, many possible ideas in my head I ended up writing this one.

A huge thanks is needed for Bela who helped a lot with this. So yeah, here goes another multichapter fic (god help me)…

Let me know what you think :)

…

The target that had been handed over in a manila envelope was a man of routine. He'd do the same thing day in, day out.

It had taken a mere 72 hours to have marked the target's moves enough to predict where he'd be at any given hour during the day. Another 72 hours to have his itinerary noted down to the minute. The need to do good work fast was becoming ever more important, not only to get a healthy source of income to buy the materials needed to do a proper job, but also to one-up the damn competitor who kept killing his targets right under his nose before he could get to them.

So it was the need to be better, and his new target's meticulous need to keep to a schedule that had Robin Locksley knowing that in precisely 26 minutes Mr. Sidney Glass would be entering the same hotel bar Robin had just walked into. It was more than enough time to take inventory of entrances and exits and plan for all eventualities.

Though twenty six minutes was enough time for a man sitting alone at the bar to become noticeable. Especially an attractive man – Robin was not one for modesty and he owned a mirror – wearing a crisp, white shirt and pressed, black slacks. The hotel was an expensive one, a smart dress code for the bar and nightly black-tie events to appease those who mixed business and pleasure.

The nature of the guests staying at the hotel also meant that security was more difficult to get around than most; CCTV covering most public places, constant watch at the door and reception, security guards so burly that even Robin wondered if he could take them and win.

As he hovered to the side of the entrance, directly under one of the pesky cameras, Robin weighed up his options. Perhaps he should look for a target of a different kind. One to help him blend in – and perhaps stave off the boredom that would no doubt creep up between now and when Mr. Glass would arrive.

His eyes scanned the room, looking for women that appealed to him, mentally crossing off all those who did not grab his attention; too blonde, too loud, too scary-looking…

His eyes settled on a dark haired woman sat at the corner of the bar. It was the perfect location; out of the line of sight of cameras but within sight of the entrance, and near to a fire exit should he be discovered and have to make a hasty departure. The woman herself was stunning; her dark hair fell perfectly past her shoulders, her smoky eyes and red lips accentuated the beauty in her features, the short, black cocktail dress she was wearing barely reached mid-thigh as she crossed her legs…

She was the one.

He made his way over, surreptitiously smoothing errant strands of hair down and fixing his shirt; he had to make a good first impression, and judging from the looks of this woman, it was no mean feat.

"Is this seat taken?" Robin asked once he was in earshot, offering a smile he hoped was a mixture of comforting and alluring when wide eyes turned to look at him.

The woman's gaze travelled over him and Robin felt slightly uneasy under her scrutiny. He wasn't usually a man who found beauty intimidating, but something about this woman had him being pulled under her spell already, eager to impress.

Her gaze flickered to the chair then back to him. "Obviously not."

"Do you mind if I take it?" He asked, feeling a little put out when he had to wait for a response as she signalled to the bar tender for another drink.

"I'm pretty sure they're bolted to the floor," she retorted, her gaze firmly on the woman fixing her cocktail.

"Well I hear they serve Screwdrivers at the bar," he quipped, and the smirk that tugged at her red lips felt like victory.

"I prefer Martini's," she confessed as the aforementioned drink was placed in front of her and exchanged for the money she slid onto the counter.

"The porn star variety?" Robin asked with a chuckle, resting his hand on the back of the deep purple upholstered stool he was trying to sit on without driving this woman away.

His answer was given in her taking the slice of apple off of the rim and biting into it with raised eyebrows, clearly unimpressed.

"A man can but dream," he sighed, feigning disappointment, and then chuckling when the woman tossed a glare his way.

When she turned back to her drink he watched every movement, the way her lips pressed against the rim of the glass, the way her throat moved as she swallowed, the way her fingers held the stem with so much grace and poise he was one moment away from calling her 'your majesty'.

"Are you waiting for a written invitation or are you going to stand there all night?" she asked once she placed the glass back on to a coaster, snapping him out of his musings.

It took her looking back up at him to spur him into action, feeling proud when he managed to spin the stool, sit and turn himself back to look at the woman in front of him in one fluid movement.

There was a moment where neither of them spoke, the woman seemingly content with swirling her drink and glancing towards the alcohol on the shelves fixed to a mirrored wall behind the bar.

It appeared if Robin wanted a conversation he'd have to start one himself.

He looked her over again, able to take in a little more detail – and trying to find something to complement her on that did not sound like 'I love your body, lay it on me'. Though in all fairness the dress fitted to her curves as if it was tailor made for her, the front was low enough to tease but high enough that it drove him to frustration. And those shoes… The black, strappy sandals on her feet were the definition of 'fuck me heels' and as Robin's eyes trailed up her toned legs he imagined them wrapped around his waist as he did just that.

"Are you going to stop mentally undressing me at some point?" He heard, and felt a blush colour his cheeks.

"Can you blame me? You're stunning," he quipped, not entirely thinking his response through. Though he caught the tinge of pink creeping up onto the apples of her cheeks as she tried to hide a small smile in her glass, and he vowed that he'd speak his mind more often if it got that reaction.

"So… Are you a guest at the hotel?" The woman asked, slightly turning her stool so she could face him.

"Are you?" Robin countered.

Her perfect eyebrows drew together in a frown Robin wanted to call cute. "I asked first."

"So you answer first," he retorted, smirking when she had no come-back.

With a huff she turned back to her drink, admitting "no, I'm just a visitor," then sending a glare his way that was clearly a demand for him to answer too.

"As it happens, so am I."

The woman hmm'd, her gaze heated as it took a leisurely path downwards, scanning his torso and the very slight bulge in his trousers – that Robin was sure was disguised well but didn't want to look down and check in case he drew attention to it – before it met his with a slow blink. "How terribly inconvenient."

The low, sultry tone and promiscuous implications had Robin's heart racing. Yes, he was a professional and prided himself on his ability to keep level headed in any situation, but this woman… this woman. She was something else. Something dangerous.

Robin had always found himself attracted to danger.

"I'm sure we could come up with something," he drawled, leaning more on the bar and letting his eyes roam her figure in the same manner as hers just had.

She clicked her tongue and slowly shook her head, "I'm not that easy."

"I'd be disappointed if you were milady; I like a challenge."

When her eyes met his again they were mischievous and somewhat amused. "Most men can't handle it."

"I'm not most men," Robin grinned.

"That's what they all say."

With a sly smirk, Robin sank his teeth into his lower lip, fighting the urge to grin when her eyes lowered to his mouth. "Then allow me a chance to prove it to you."

She slowly leaned forwards, her elbow on her knee and her chin resting on her relaxed fist. Her tongue swiped from one side of her cunning grin to the other, moistening her lips in a movement that would have had Robin shifting if it didn't risk putting a little more distance between them. Her teeth sank into her own lower lip, her eyes darting to his mouth once again as she leaned further still…

"Perhaps some other time," she drawled, mere inches away from him. The feel of her breath ghosting over Robin's lips had his fists clenching as he exercised restraint in not just taking a risk and going for it.

Then she winked, a grin lighting up her features before she sat upright again. It took Robin a moment to recover from the proximity, his mind choosing to continue the situation as if she hadn't pulled away, where her mouth had pressed to his and her hand had slid up his thigh and…

"Why not now?" he asked, his eyes fixed on red lips as she took a sip of her drink.

"I'm busy," she stated once she had placed her drink back on the coaster.

Robin frowned. "Busy drinking Martinis?"

"And flirting with you," she smirked, her lips pursed before she turned to look at him with mischievous eyes.

Robin watched as elegant fingers grasped the stem of the cherry in her drink and plucked it out, delicately placing it in her mouth.

"Well," Robin started, but then her lips sealed around the fruit as she withdrew it, an eyebrow raised in faux innocence as she placed it on a corner of the coaster. The immediate fantasies in his head had him losing track of his thought, leaving his sentence to trail off into nothing.

She looked at him expectantly, with an evil glint in her eyes, offering a mocking; "you were saying?"

"I was saying…" he started, trying to think of what he was talking about before this woman decided to ignite his brain – and other parts – on fire, "… something."

The way she bit into her bottom lip as she grinned was worth all the potential embarrassment Robin felt at not keeping level headed. Damn, this woman would be the end of him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she started, although she sounded anything but 'sorry'; "Am I distracting you?"

"Well," Robin smirked, "I find I'm not averse to that."

With a chuckle, she returned her gaze to her drink. "Not many people are."

Robin tilted his head, trying to understand this enigmatic female he had been drawn to. He just couldn't get a read on her, and for an assassin, not knowing with whom you were dealing was as dangerous as turning up without a weapon.

Lost in thought, he didn't even fully process that he was removing his jacket until he felt a heated gaze watching his actions. When he looked to his right he saw chocolate brown eyes follow his every move as a set of red lips parted on an inhale.

"Now who's mentally undressing who?"

Her gaze snapped to his, no doubt taking note of his cocky smirk if the minute roll of her eyes was anything to go by.

Though not a moment later a similar smirk appeared to mirror his. "Would you rather I didn't?"

"I'd rather be undressed with your hands instead of your eyes, milady," Robin countered, feeling a little brave and confident he'd won their unspoken battle of wits this time.

"There goes my plan to unfasten your clothes with my teeth."

Robin's stomach clenched, damn her.

The look on his face as she one-upped him yet again must have been amusing; her smirk turned into a grin that showcased her dazzling smile.

Robin frowned and shook his head in bemusement. "Are you always this-"

His sentence trailed off when she turned to him, her features morphing into a glare. Though this was not similar to her previous glares – the ones with barely concealed exasperation and obvious contempt that had amused him; no, this was more of the shut up or I'll murder you glare.

"If I were you," she began, a hint of warning in her tone, "I would not complete that sentence."

"I was merely going to say 'confident'," Robin mumbled.

They both knew he wasn't. Her sarcastic "sure you were" put voice to that.

"I did not mean any offence," he started, not wanting to have caused this woman any reason to withdraw from him, he put a hand over his heart, vowing; "on my honour."

"And what is your honour worth?" she retorted.

"Hopefully enough for a second chance," Robin implored with a slight, optimistic grimace.

Her disbelieving frown puzzled him. "You believe in those?"

"I do." He admitted, keeping his reasoning firmly in the deep recesses of his brain in case this unpredictable woman drew them from him. "You don't?"

Her scoff answered before any words left her mouth. "Second chances are the dreams of an idiot."

"Well, it's nice to have hope, surely?" Robin prompted.

Her response was a deadpanned; "Hope is merely a four letter word used by naïve fools."

Taken aback at the sudden change in demeanour, Robin huffed. "Wow, who pissed you off?"

She looked at him then, a storm of emotions swirling behind her eyes. It made Robin want to know her, know her entire story from the beginning to the moment he sat down next to her.

Though in the blink of an eye her guards returned, and she seemed to remember that she was talking to stranger in a bar – god knew her reaction if she discovered that sat opposite her was a person who killed for a living.

Robin took note of the way she held herself, her straight posture and the way she seemed to exude grace and poise in everything she did. She looked strong, and not just in a physical manner; somehow Robin knew that she was most resilient, that she was one of those people that could handle all the things life decided to unfairly throw at them. And she did so with the beauty, sex appeal and hint of danger that had Robin drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

He watched as her attention was drawn away from him, her hands disappearing in her red clutch bag for a moment before she looked up at him, a slightly apologetic glance on her face.

"Excuse me whilst I visit the ladies'."

She stood, gracefully sliding off the stool to land on four inch stilettos with her clutch in hand.

Robin lightly grasped her elbow, offering a concerned; "Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine," she smiled, patting his hand before she walked away. "Be right back."

She looked back at him twice on the journey around the bar – something Robin noted with a smile of his own.

He managed to signal to the woman behind the bar to walk over to him, intending to ask for a whiskey because why not? One glass wouldn't hurt. But when the waitress was a few steps away he noted his target seating himself the other side of the bar.

Well… There went his plans for a whiskey. Still, the fact that this man's death meant Robin could afford to buy the Noreen Sniper's rifle that he had wanted for months outweighed his current displeasure. Though when the barmaid's questioning gaze fell over him, the first non-alcoholic item he thought to ask for was a napkin, and Robin cursed his brain for its apparent unwillingness to work properly.

Yes, that woman was definitely going to be the death of him.

Focusing on the edges of the cream, paper napkin, the indented dots along the edge, Robin mentally recounted the plan to murder Sidney Glass.

He had just reached the end – the hasty exit into his car parked two streets away – when his attention was drawn away, back to this beautiful woman that he was not likely to forget any time soon.

She was making her way back around to him, looking in her bag and not entirely looking where she was going. In her distraction she bumped right into Mr. Glass, and Robin chuckled at the irony of his personal life and profession life colliding so literally.

He watched her apologise with a killer smile before making her way back to him, and then noted Glass' eyes follow her on the journey back. Suddenly he wanted to eliminate his target with newfound vigour.

The red mist descending over his eyes dissipated when his focus was drawn back to the woman returning to sit opposite him, apparently still willing to spend time with him.

"Miss me?" She drawled.

"Didn't even realise you were gone," he quipped, but then she raised her eyebrow and he didn't even try to hide the soft amendment; "I did."

"Well aren't you a romantic?"

"Of course I am; I can't drive you away so soon."

"Who said you haven't?" She retorted; "Perhaps I just couldn't find any unlocked windows in the bathroom."

Robin narrowed his eyes, a playful display of annoyance to which the response was a throaty chuckle, the likes of which had Robin smiling and eager to draw it out again.

"You should smile more often," he stated, and when she turned to look at him with a somewhat dangerous look in her eye, Robin only smiled more, as if to show her how it was done.

"Maybe I smile all the time and you just bore me," she sassed, before taking another sip of her drink.

"Well then," Robin started. "What can I do to interest you?"

With a predatory grin, she asked; "What are you willing to do?"

"With you milady? Anything," he offered with a wink, feeling proud of the way – for the first time since he met her – the woman in front of him looked somewhat taken aback.

Robin turned his smug grin in Glass' direction, initially to just check he was still there but then he remembered the way the man's eyes had practically devoured the woman he was sat with, and the thought of wrapping his hands around his neck became very pleasing to him.

When Robin turned back to the woman in question, he was being stared at with those wide, beautiful eyes. Her look reminded him of the moment where pieces of his plans fell together or when he had found the answer that he didn't know he was looking for. He was not entirely sure if he should be fearful or excited.

"Are you looking at me like that for a reason?" he inquired.

"No, no reason," she smiled in a way that belied her words. "Why? Am I scaring you?"

Robin lifted his chin, subconsciously puffing out his chest a little, proclaiming; "I don't scare easily."

"That's not what I asked." She leant forwards, entering his personal space, and although her gaze dropped to his lips as she tilted her head, Robin felt a little different than when she had done the same thing a short while back. "Do I scare you?"

Robin thought about it for a moment.

She was unpredictable, definitely. And she sure as hell kept him on his toes, not giving enough away to let him get a proper read of her. He wasn't entirely sure who had the upper hand here, though he was helpless to do anything but stay and let himself be tangled up in her allure.

Did that make him feel uneasy? Yes.

Did that scare him? "No."

She looked somewhat impressed when her gaze returned to his eyes, and Robin couldn't help but feel as if he had passed an undisclosed test. "I'll have to do something about that."

Robin hmm'd, choosing to lean even closer to her, his fingertips just brushing the back of her hand that was over the edge of the bar. "That sounds as if it could work in my favour."

"Oh, you have no idea," she breathed, her voice low, filling his mind with so many ideas that were so far from appropriate he should be arrested for public indecency already.

He was about to retort, to find something hot and sexy to say in an attempt to affect her as much as she had him, but in his peripheral vision he saw Mr. Glass stand, thumping his chest with his fist as he tried to soothe the bout of coughs that had seized him, then making his way to the restroom several metres away from him.

Robin clenched his jaw, he could add ruining an opportunity to take his flirting a little further to the list of things Mr. Glass had done to warrant his death.

"I need to nip to the gents'," he started, standing from his stool and throwing his jacket over his arm. "Are you going to be here when I get back?"

"If you're lucky," she smiled.

Robin left with a smirk, feeling very lucky indeed. If she was still there, maybe after working hard he could play harder. God knows it had been a while.

He made his way towards the bathroom, his fingers in one of his trouser pockets, loosely wrapped around the small blade he had there. He spent his footsteps up to the door slotting into the right mind-set. He was no longer the gentleman flirting with the lady at the bar; he was the assassin preparing to kill his target. A professional.

The moment he entered the men's room, his instincts were on high alert; something was not right. When Robin took a few cautious steps further, he soon discovered why.

Mr Glass was sprawled lifeless on the floor, head pointing towards the bowl of the first of the three toilets, his hand resting atop his smashed phone.

Dead.

Robin's insatiable curiosity won out, and instead of leaving the scene to minimise the risk of getting caught, he rounded the man in front of him, trying not to focus on the nauseating smell of vomit and instead trying to work out what the hell had happened.

He took note of the petichiae in his eyes and the blue tinge to his skin, asphyxiation coming to the forefront of Robin's mind, but then he noted a spot of blood on his collar, and when he lined it up to find an identical mark on the man's neck about the size of a needle, it all started to fit together.

Robin glared and huffed when he realised they did it again; yet another target that he was beaten to.

One of these days he would find out who kept besting him. He would greet them with either a shake of their hand or a punch to the face, Robin wasn't quite sure which yet.

But whoever it was couldn't have gone far, perhaps Robin even had a chance to catch up with them. It wasn't usually difficult to note somebody in the same profession as him; they tended to draw each other in. They held themselves a certain way, could blend in well but yet attract the right kind of attention, maintain a conversation without giving anything too personal away, exude skill and confidence in everything…

Robin frowned, his brows furrowing together as all the pieces clicked and then holy shit!

He walked out of the bathroom at a reasonable pace to avoid drawing any suspicion, just remembering to angle his head away from the CCTV in time before heading back to the bar – making his way as fast as he could without attracting any unwanted attention to himself.

She was not in her seat. Or in any seat. Though he saw a flash of red in the doorway, and whether it was her clutch or not it was the best thing he had. So he set off after his new lead, vowing to not let her get away – though for entirely different reasons than he originally had in mind.

As he raced through the foyer, he was close enough to catch a quick glimpse that proved it was definitely her that he was chasing, but as soon as the outside air filled his lungs she was gone again.

Robin was left breathing heavily and clenching his fists.

With a sigh of frustration he shrugged on his jacket and shoved his hands in his pockets, huffing air out of his nose and grinding his jaw. He paused when his right pocket felt different from the left, and he felt something soft across his knuckles and the back of his hand.

Robin frowned before he looked down, watching as his hand pulled out the napkin which had replaced his whiskey, the one he did not remember putting in his jacket at all.

He flipped it over, eyes immediately drawn to the red imprint of lips in the corner before he took note of the words scrawled in perfect penmanship in a diagonal line from corner to corner.

Better luck next time,

The small 'x' underneath made Robin scoff.

'Next time'? If she expected to get away with taking his target again she was sadly mistaken.

He knew who she was now.

Next time he'd have her. And he wouldn't let her get away from him so easily.