The Assassin and The Musician CH. 1

Gilbert's POV

Being an assassin is simple. All I had to do was read my assignment, shoot, and take the money. it's not personal, just business. In all honesty, I don't care just so long as I get my cash. Yes, I mean cash. I know I sound paranoid, but I don't want my bank accounts to be tracked. You know how it is.

How I got myself into this way of life is kind of a touchy subject. For what I know, not a person on this planet other than me knows my life story. Yeah, let's keep it this way.

All assignments are all delivered by email. I haven't had many jobs lately, and money has been tight, but nothing someone as awesome as me can't power through. I wish to thank who ever invented ramen noodles; I'd be lost without them.

I guess my prayers have been answered. Just as my happiness dimmed, a new email flashed up on my screen. Wit new-found vigor I click it. "Please not be another ad from Avon!" I said to no one in particular. As I opened I am proud to say it was, in fact, an assignment.

I noticed it was from a new person, 'cause I'm pretty sure I'd remember someone going by the email ''. Who cares a job is a job, so I continue reading.

Evidently this person wants to rid themselves a cello-player by the name of Mathew Williams. Just by that tidbit of information I could tell this was for personal purposes. Seriously, why the hell else would you kill a cellist, I know pretty much every mafia and gang member in this town, so I'm sure I would Know him if he was involved. But as I said already, a job is a job.

I picked up my Sniper, Affectionately named Prussia, and a bit of ammunition. I'm bound for the Hetalia City Orchestral Hall. This shouldn't take long…

Mathew's POV

The Hetalia City Annual Concert is coming up soon. I won't say I'm excited, more along the lines of anxious. I never really did well with large performances, or solos for that matter.

I have played cello since I was very young. Being the only son of the famous singer Francis Bonnefoy, I had to have some musical ability. I wouldn't say I was the best. I am First Chair out of twenty other Cello players, but I'm no virtuoso.

Chair levels are a constant battle. The competition is fierce. Though I am comfortably placed in the First Chair, the young Chinese man next to me is getting more and more dead set on my chair. I always see that angry expression when are chairs are announced and our chairs didn't change. I'm probably just imagining things.

I have been practicing like a madman to prepare my mind for the live performance coming tomorrow. Today is the last practice and I still feel uneasy about this, but that's just me.

In all truth, I love my cello. What I can't express through my voice I show through my cello. All my anger, all my depression extinguishes when I lift up my bow and hold it to that beautiful wooden instrument. It is my life.

The big performance is tomorrow, and the anticipation is killing me let's hope everything goes the way I hope.

AUTHOR'S TALK:

Hey guys since I lost my fire with my other stories I decided to try lighting a new one. In case you don't understand the chair system, it is how musicians in a group are order by skill, and trust me the competition is bitter. The best in the group of instruments, say the cellos, the first chair is the best.