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[color=BA0000]"Come to the location yourself in an hour. Then you can transfer the money."[/color]

The Spectre hung up the phone before looking down on the target building from the roof he was perched on. Ben had got a contract to take out some new blood that was muscling in on some established turf. The men at the front checked either end of the road before heading inside and closing the door of the old warehouse. Ben chuckled. What a joke. A couple of guys with guns, the rest with pipes and bats. These schmucks were easy pickings. It would be those at the back with the boss himself that was going to be the trouble. No doubt that would be where the guns would be, probably for his bodyguards. Slinging the gas mask over his face, Ben made all final checks on his weapons before stepping off of the building.

A few seconds before impact, Ben felt a surge of energy rush over him, as he activated his power. A cloud of black smoke replaced where Ben was falling, and as the smoke reached the ground, it practically rolled forward across the road and began to seep through the crack underneath the doorway. He could see two guys walking away from the door. Ben shifted behind a pillar and smirked as he reformed back to his human form. He reached into his jacket and gripped the handle of his sword, the Wakizashi. A Japanese short sword which it's blade reached 16 inches. The crossguard, called the Tsuba, had the carving of a crashing wave. Like the crack of a whip, Ben ran out from his hiding place. With two swift motions of his arm, Ben had made clean slashes across the backs of the guards. Their weapons clattered on the ground, which drew the attention of a group of them. Wiping the lens of his mask, Ben grinned and marched forward.

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Cut... Slice... Kill... Oh, how Ben loved carving his bloody handiwork. The contract was very clear. No survivors. Ben slaughtered his way through the warehouse, making his way to the target. The gang leader watched in horror as his men fell one by one. One guy actually managed to get a hit on Ben. However, what the man saw next was the eyes of a demon. Creepy, haunting laughter began to echo throughout the hideout, and the gangster watched as the man he just punched began to transform into smoke. Something was filling his lungs, the man desperately clawed at his throat, trying to will the smoke out of his body. It was too late. Whatever this smoke contained, it was worse than chain-smoking a thousand cigarettes in a minute. Ben had transformed into smoke and entered the man's body and choked him from the inside. The body slumped to the cold floor, as the smog seeped out of his mouth and began to reform. All that was left was the guys with the guns and the boss himself.

Fear tactics was such an underappreciated technique in a hitman's arsenal, Ben found. He looked at the bodyguards, shaking where they stood. [color=BA0000]"My God, this is pathetic. You're certainly not worth what I'm getting paid."[/color] He taunted with a chuckle. One of the unnerved men took a shot. As soon as the gun fired, Ben was once more smoke, and the bullet whizzed through, creating a small hole that was quickly filled up. An arm began to condense in the shadow, holding the Longbarrel Hardballer pistol. The barrel pointed straight at the man, and Ben squeezed the trigger. Two more shots rang out, the first burying itself deep into the gangster's chest, and the other one splattering his grey matter against the wall. The arm swung around to the other bodyguard, who met the same grisly fate. Finally, the gun found itself pointed at the leader, and Ben soon reformed with the rest of his body.

"C-C'mon man!" The gang leader stammered, begging for his life. "Th-This is about money? I'll pay you man! Double? Triple!" He continued to beg. Men who could give the big talk but pissed their pants when shit gets real disgusted Ben. He stabbed the man's hand, pinning him to the desk. The assassin reached into his coat pocket and showed the gangster a black playing card. He flipped it around, showing the guy's name, written in red. Pushing the card towards him, Ben laughed as he put the steel against the man's head. The last shot of the fight rang out.

Ben walked out of the warehouse, sheathing his sword and holstering his gun before looking at his suit. Messy work again. He'd have to buy a new one, and burn this one too. With a satisfied sigh, Ben pulled off the gas mask and pulled his phone out. It muffled his voice too much. With another job done, Ben can finally get a reputation going, and keep the money stacking. A bigger payout with each successful hit.

[color=BA0000]"It's done. You know my details."[/color]