20 May 2012
He beat his feet to his penthouse suite, hiding out without a doubt.
On the run, was the son-of-a-gun, from who - nobody knows for true. A battle of one to ensue?
The fear froze him in his seat, sweating from the heat of his special kind of meet and greet.
Shaking and quaking. Breaking the aching of faking the taking of lives.
He takes off his masks and asks for a more simple set of tasks...
...and breaks the assassins code by harassing those who paid the gold.
Into Exile • Opuss № I