[ WP ] You are a retired assassin . The only thing you want is to die . Keeping you from this is the fulfillment of your last contract : A celebrated performer paid you to kill him if he ever tried to make a `` comeback '' as an old man . After years in retirement , the performer announces a world tour .

I was sitting in a large leather chair, holding a glass of Jameson in a gloved hand. Shrouded in darkness, only illuminated by the dim orange streetlight creeping trough the blinds. I felt ridiculous, sitting in the dark like an old bond villain. 
 
 My tools were set next to an old ashtray on a nearby table. Mentally I listed: a simple leather case containing a few lock picks, a loaded snub nose and a usb drive. 
 
 I heard drunken footsteps on the other side of the door, followed by the jingle of dropped keys. A raspy voice swearing covered the cocking of my gun that now rested in my lap. I could feel the tension as the door swung open and the old illusionist stepped inside and reached for the lights. 
 
 “ Frank, ” I said pretending that I wasn ’ t completely blinded by the sudden illumination. He jumped, froze and his nimble fingers went completely stiff. 
 
 “ You remembered, ” he said swallowing. 
 
 “ Sit down Frank, I don ’ t want to make your lovely landlady. ” My tone was commanding but softer than it used to be. 
 
 He pushed the door letting his hand linger. He undid the buttons of his cuffs and loosened his burgundy bowtie. He kicked his shoes and avoided my gaze as he slumped in the leather chair next to me. 
 
 Behind us, the howling sound of the city contrasted the uneasy silence. I wanted to let him go. I had been waiting for hours for this conversation and couldn ’ t help but notice all the family portraits strewn around the room. They were all full of life but Frank was in none of them, I checked. 
 
 “ How is life treating you Frank, ” I asked as I swirled what was left of the Irish whiskey. 
 
 “ Melanoma, stage four, ” he sighed. That did explain the empty pill cups that laid on the dusty carpet. We let the silence wash over us. Absently, he picked up the drink that I had left next to his armchair. 
 
 “ No ice, ” he commented. I nodded. Outside a couple was fighting we could ear their antics. We finished our drinks in silence. 
 
 “ Did you ever planned on performing again, ” I asked. 
 
 “ No, not really, ” he said tensing up, “ I just wanted and easy way out. ” 
 
 “ I was nice seeing you again Frank. ” 
 
 We both stared at his wall covered in old photographs and news clipping. I took out a faded picture of my own. 
 
 “ How are you gon na do it, ” he asked resolute. 
 
 “ Already did, ” I said as I tipped my empty glass. 
 
 “ Oh… ” 
 
 We sat silent as the arsenic and the morphine coursed trough our veins. 

