[ WP ] An assassin is monitoring a room waiting for someone who never shows up .

The man in the black robe waited in the room, hiding in a dark shadow. He's mastered the art of sneaking to a point. He could practically hide in the dead of daylight and it was most likely everyday people would n't bother to notice him. He's also tried his hand at the art of patience, but he still needed work at that. This mission was just *killing* him, where was his prey? He made his dagger dance across and between his fingers, his version of a stress ball. How long was it since he came here? 
 
 He figured there was no use in hiding in this shadow, so he stretched his body. Of course, this did n't mean that he was unaware of outside; his sense of hearing sharpened with years of practice. One sound of a step, and he would bounce back into the black with amazing stealthiness. He did more of the dagger juggle, coiling up his impatience into a rock of temper. *Oh Jesus, c'mon! *, he thought, *where is the bloody bloke? * He looked at the bare light-bulb, which hung from the middle of the cement ceiling. *Medieval-ism with a dash of `` modern'' technology*, he thought earlier. 
 
 His side vibrated. He pulled out and flipped open his phone, a relic in a surging sea of new electronics. *The Boss*. He answered, and was met with an attempted whisper. 
 
 `` Is it done?'' he asked. 
 
 `` No. I have no idea where in bloody hell this man is.'' He juggled the dagger faster. 
 
 `` Ugh, I had a feeling this would happen. He is n't always a man of punctuality. Must've been a detail I left out in the slip.'' 
 
 The man in the black robe remembered reading the slip, straining his eyes to see what the Boss's small handwriting said. What `` slip'' it was. 
 
 `` My mistake.'' the Boss continued. 
 
 *My mistake? What kind of a person leaves out an important detail like that?... * 
 
 `` Anyways, since he did n't come, I've no need of your services. You're already expensive enough. Come to my house in the morning, and you'll receive your pay. Bye.'' 
 
 He closed the phone and put it back in his pocket. He sighed. All this for a stand-up. He had more appointments to sort out, in a booming age for hit-men.He hoped he would n't be too tired for the one set up tomorrow afternoon by a certain businessman. He walked to the door and tried to open it, but it would n't budge. He pulled and jiggled with all his might, but to no avail. He pushed and slammed against the door, but nothing. He took out his dagger. Nothing. He yelled for help. Nothing. He searched for some mysterious key, which of course did n't exist. 
 
 `` Looking for something?'' 
 
 Joseph tensed, his hand choking the handle of his dagger. He heard the click of a pistol. He recognized the voice as the man he's supposed to hit; the Boss gave him recordings of some of his speeches. 
 
 `` I'll keep my words for goodbye short and simple. Your past has come back to haunt you. Hard.'' 
 
 He pointed the gun at Joseph's head. `` Goodbye, evil man.'' 
 
 He fired. Joseph lunged and tried to attack him, but Marcus was too fast for him. He went to the Army, so he should know how to work one well. Memories flooded into his mind, dark and red. Back home, red everywhere, and bed-sheets on the staircase. If Joseph bothered to listen closely, the last words he would've heard was: `` For her.''
