[h1][b][center][color=ed1c24]Deadgene[/color][/center][/b][/h1]


[color=fff200]Now[/color]. Apartment #34, Woodland St.
Portland, Oregon.

Randy was sitting on a dirty couch, the apartment in a total mess, which was something that would [i]never[/i] reflect his discipline. He didn't give it much thought as he was occupied with preparing for his new job, a job that made him come all the way to Oregon. His Bo Staff and custom Colt guns laid before him on the table, wearing half his costume as he counted his bullets. The television was the only source of light in his rented apartment, something on the news murmured about a Hulk comet hitting New-York, but it was a passive noise for him. His contact at the organization that raised him called him earlier that night, gave Randy the specifics of his next job. It was another assassination contract, with the target vaguely described. Randy recollected the phone call while he put on his tops and fitted on his mask. 

"...[color=f9ad81]An affinity for fashion? That is all what I'm getting? You know I need more than that, this entire town has a damn affinity for fashion.[/color]" 
"Like I said Randolph, you will know your target when you see it. A lot of movers are paying big sums for your target's head, it has caused them numerous troubles, we wouldn't want that to happen to our beloved clients now would we?" 
"[color=f9ad81]Of course not, what are we without our blood-thirsty war mongering clients?[/color]"
"a bunch of savages Randolph. Clean shot, and I will wire you the money like usual." 

When Randy was ready, his Bo Staff in one hand, his combat dagger in the other, fully clad in black padded trousers and Deadpool-era inspired colors he went out from the window, and climbed up to the rooftop through the fire exit. His target was a few blocks away, he had taken shelter in that shitty apartment for convenience's sake alone. Randy never used long-range weapons, he loathed Snipers and sniper rifles, preferring instead the old-fashioned way of assassination. Something that he learned since his coming of age, ninja-like approach to target elimination. What Randy never knew was that his target was non-other than the Runaway [color=ec008c]Daughter-Grimm[/color], the eleven years old daughter of Nico Minoru, the original Sister-Grimm. When he finally spotted her in an alleyway, he felt shivers crawl through his skin pores.