Blood: UKcest

Blood: My muse killing yours

((This might suck euggggh))

“Alice Kirkland”

The unmistakable name was written in bold red ink on the file, sitting on the edge of Arthur’s desk. Was this the right name? “But it cannot be…” He muttered to himself, glancing up into the cold, hard stare of his boss. “It is correct.” His boss replied, opening the file to reveal her photo. It was her in a coffee shop, her ash blonde hair pinned back in a messy bun, her emerald green eyes piercing through her glasses, scanning through a simple paperback. She had on the table her purse, phone and a pot of tea. I didn’t need to scan through the report to know what was in the pot; her favourite earl grey.

“Are you sure this is the right woman, I mean maybe I was issued the wrong file—” His boss slammed his scarred hand on the table, nearly inches away from the other’s face. “You dare tell me I gave you the wrong file?! You work under my killing laws and you do not question me. I expect this job to be finished by tomorrow morning. I suggest you begin on your craft or you can expect yourself to be finished off by morning.”

Arthur gulped painfully, inching his fingers onto the file, opening it gently.

Name: Alice Kirkland

Sex: Female

Age: 24 years of age

Occupation: Her Majesty’s Secret Service Union. 2 years of service.

Partners: None observed.

Claim: Reasoned to be a threat to the organization, knows too much of the happenings within the organization and is too close to discovery. Elimination as soon as possible is necessary.

Payment: Client wishes to remain anonymous. Killer is to use silent method; if possible allow for it to look like suicide.

Killer assigned: Arthur Kirkland. Once killed, call for police, feign mourn.”

Arthur slid his sweaty palms through his hair, grabbing his gun, clicking it to his belt, walking out with the file tucked under his arm, leaving in silence.

The entering was easy, for he possessed a key.

The trapping was easy, for he knew how she fought.

The killing wasn’t.

“Arthur…” She whispered, glancing into the barrel of the gun, her hands rubbing together under the rope tied on her hands. Arthur’s hands wavered over her again, his hand gripped on the trigger. He couldn’t pull it. The voice of his boss rang out in his head again. “I suggest you begin on your craft or you can expect yourself to be finished off by morning.” Alice’s tears fell heavy and hard, her lips trembling painfully.

“I forgive you.” She whispered. Arthur’s hands shook harder, his own tears falling. “I love you.” She said again in a trembling voice, her hands held above her head. Arthur placed the gun between her eyes, pressing a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I love you too.”

With that he straightened up, replacing the gun before pulling down hard on the trigger.

With that, she was gone, and so was he.