the beginning

"Professor Bart Snapp sends his regards." Thwap. Thwap.

The two silenced shots that you never saw coming have lodged themselves deep into your skull. Grotesquely, your head slams down on your MacBook Pro with no regard to how expensive that pricetag really was. Slowly, your blood seeps out of the two holes in the back of your head like a faucet on a very low, steady flow.
"A fitting end to a Snapptastic day," your assassin chuckles grimly to himself. "Snapp will be delighted I've taken care of Mr. Samaranayake. And two days ahead of schedule. I think I deserve a smoothie."

"Sounds like they're going at it again. It never ends," I think to myself as I look at the clock. It reads 8:56pm. Damn, I must have passed out after I came upstairs from my work out. The screams from that girl next door sound a little different than they normally do, a little more hysterical.

Whack!...Whack!...Whack! It sounds like door is about to come down. I run over to it only to see the guy's girlfriend from next door. I met her once or twice; I think her name is Tessa or Tera or something.

Though the lights from the hallway have played tricks on my eyes before, there's no mistaking what I see before me; a hysterical women covered in blood. She has a frantic, yet empty gaze. It's as though she she can only half-comprehend what is happening. I quickly try to piece things together as I open the door.

"What's going on? What's with the blood?," I ask, only to have screams intermixed with sobs, thrown back at me. This is bad, I think, really, really bad. I take a quick look around and i tell her to come in and sit down. I decide to put her in the bathroom; it'll be easier to clean her up later on. She's in no state to speak, let alone tell me what has happened over in Apartment 308. All she can do is shake and scream. Quickly, I run over to my dresser, reach in the bottom drawer, and pull out my 9mm. "Damn, I wish I had my .45," I think. "This could get very, very messy."

After I lock her in the bathroom to make sure she doesn't haphazardly run away, I slowly close my door and open the door to 308. It doesn't take long for my eyes to get adjusted to the dark. The new-age digital clock in the corner tells me it's 9:11pm. Looking out the windows, I can see the moonlight shining brightly on the Space Needle. The "pride and joy of Seattle," bah, I never liked it much anyway. It's just a tourist trap in a rainy, demure city that doesn't have anything but coffee and fish. I can smell the salt of the sound as I make my way slowly into the living room. Because it's early summer, there are plenty of muffled conversations that have made their way up from the streets below. As I take a quick scan of the neat and orderly living room and office area, I can tell something's wrong.

I can see something glistening in the moonlight underneath the desk on the far side of the room. It's dark, pitch black, yet it's shining. It looks a lot like an oil slick, unfortunately, I know it's blood. With my handgun cocked and ready, I turn on a light. Just as I suspected. The boyfriend, dead. And just as I suspected, two shots.

I can't be sure about anything in this world; not with what's been going on lately. This is the 3rd victim, two shots in the head. One dead center, the other random. Sometimes above it. Sometimes below, always at a different angle. On top of it, there's always a cut, underneath the right ear. I don't know what to make of it, not yet anyway. It looks like it could be a calling card of sorts.

These murders certainly aren't the work of a serial killer. I've had my fair share of experience with those sick bastards. They always take a trophy, or leave one. These kills look like the work of a trained assassin, a true killer. Because Sergeant Hong has a bug up his ass, he won't listen the facts or look at the evidence. He hasn't ruled out a serial killer; therefore, that's our number one priority. We'll never catch a trained assassin looking for a God damn serial killer, that's for sure. We'll see what he has to say about this kill.

The only thing I do know for sure is this poor bastard didn't know what was happening until it was too late, way too late.