[ WP ] Write a story from the perspective of a guard in a stealth game .

It was disgusting what he did. I could describe to you in detail what the screams coming from behind the door sounded like, but there are only two words to describe the smell: burning flesh. Not even old enough to be considered men, most were 17 to 19 years of age; they had gotten sucked into the life early and it had come to this; being caught and `` Punished'' by the family. I say `` punished'' with such little conviction, because they had hardly done anything wrong, unless you consider circumstance a crime. They had been recruited by the rival mob, the Dinapoli Family, at a young age. 
 
 I hated the man almost instantly, but the money was good and there are n't many career choices for a deserter. I would be thrown in prison if I ever stepped foot back onto american soil, and most countries would have me deported if they knew who I was or what I'd done, so an honest living was n't a choice anymore. Being a hired gun was about as good as it was going to get for an ex Army Ranger, or as the US would call me; a deserter. 
 
 My partner, an italian by the name of Giovanni, and I were posted here for the next two hours as they punished the boys. We had already been here long enough for me to dry out my canteen and it was about time to dry out my bladder as well, luckily the bathroom was only a couple yards down the hall. `` Torno, deco pisciare'' is a phrase, despite losing most of my italian over the years, I will never forget; `` I'll be back, got ta piss''. It was the last thing I ever said to Giovanni. 
 
 The sound it makes in the movies is only partly accurate. The click of the hammer coming down on the firing pin, the practically simultaneous metallic clack of the slide hitting it's rear stop and returning to the loaded position, it's all accurate in the movies. Hell, for an $ 85 million budget it *should* be accurate. However, you ca n't record what the bullet ripping through a body sounds like. The sound of 7.5gr of 9mm lead colliding with the ribs, tearing through the atrial cavities of the heart, a quart of blood being sprayed against the cinderblock wall; They never put that in the movies. I had protected the disgusting bastard writing my paychecks for a little over a year, but the one person who made it bearable was Giovanni, whom I had just heard quietly slide down the cinderblock wall to the ground, unable to even return fire. 
 
 In seconds, another voice was harmonizing with the young Dinapoli men; Francis Marchetti. The joy of hearing him finally get what he deserved leveled out the despair of hearing my one friend on the job fall to his death, leaving me level headed enough to finish taking a piss, and figure out my exit strategy. I did n't particularly care to kill the soon to be met assassin, but being a Marchetti guard meant I would be receiving the same greeting as Giovanni had if I was naive enough to show my face. After a good time had passed I drew my sidearm and slowly opened the door. 
 
 There he was leaving the crime scene, walking down the hall with his back to me. Screams were still echoing in the hall from the other room which I had hoped concealed the sound of me opening the bathroom door. I was wrong. He began to turn around without realizing the disadvantage he was at; My gun was drawn and aimed at the center of his torso. Before he even knew who was behind him, my bullet was tearing through his chest. It was Game Over.
