Where is she? And why is this station so busy on a Wednesday night? I'm sardined in the middle of a sea of claret and blue shirt...

Where is she? And why is this station so busy on a Wednesday night?

I'm sardined in the middle of a sea of claret and blue shirts. Everyone is smiling and singing something about blowing bubbles. 

My height gives me a decent vantage point, but I can't see her red beanie hat anywhere. She always wears it, even when she met my friends for the first time. It's frayed and too big, but it was from her Grandma, so she has a pass to wear it.

"Ow, watch where you're going buddy." I'm nearly knocked to the floor by a short man in a raincoat. His collar is upturned, like he has seen too many James Dean movies. His fedora is low and I don't get to see his face. He scuttles away and becomes one with the school of claret and blue.

"Please don't push. Your train is currently being held at the next station." An announcer bleats out on a faulty microphone. Moans go up around the station.

"There is a good service running on all London Underground lines." An automated voice follows seconds later and ironic jeers bubble up from the crowd. They are in good spirits, their team must have won. 

My chest is sore. I unbutton my jacket and give it a rub, did James Dean do this? 

The pain is relegated to the back of my mind as my pocket vibrates. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.

"Hi, can you hear me? Where are you? Oh the entrance. Okay yeah, i'll meet you there in a minute." I hang up and place the phone into my jean pocket. I feel something, I never carry anything in my outer pockets, since I had my bank card and phone stolen in Oxford Street. 

It's a piece of paper. I open it but I'm pushed back by a larger commuter. "Sorry mate. Ridiculous aint it."

I nod and walk away from the congestion. When my hands can move better I return to the paper. I don't remember the paper being yellow, but who remember these things. It's folded delicately, so I take my time unfolding it. 

Johnny Vega. It reads.

I'm perplexed. Who is Johnny Vega? And how did this get into my pocket? And where is Audrina?

The latter thought wins and I shove the paper on my inside pocket, reaching for my phone at the same time.

"Boo." A pleasant voice graces my ears.

I turn and she is there in all her Mediterranean beauty. I kiss the top of her red beanie. "It's mad in there. Should we just grab a cab?" She nods and I open my phone to find Uber.

"How are you?" She asks.

"Um... I'm... okay... fine..." I can't multi-task and the Uber is nearly ordered. "Sorry, i'm okay, but my chest is throbbing a bit. Some guy bumped into me."

"Aww does mister brave strong man, want a chest rub?" She says in a tone, that would be fine to a 1 year old, but not someone approaching 30.

I ignore her. "The Uber will be here in 1 minute."

"Good, then I can tell you about my day. You will not believe who I saw coming out of Zara this morning."

A honk rings out and I'm saved from answering her question. "... EDF, yeah that's our license plate." We jog over towards it. 

"Tobias?" His voice is gravely, surely he is in the middle of a violent cough. I nod my head. "Get in mate." Nope, that's just his voice. 

We sit in the back and the cabby regals us with interesting stories. He wants that 5 star rating. 

"Hey guys, don't mean to burst your bubble but we're being followed. That Prius behind us has been with us pretty much since Stratford." 

We both turn around and I notice sat in the passenger seat it's Mister Trench-coat. "That's the guy that bumped into my chest." 

Audrina makes a playful sad face. 

"I'm going to take a few lefts, I won't add it onto your journey okay." The cab drive sounds as if he has done this before. 

We turn left, the car follows. We turn left again, the car follows. He throws in a right turn, for good measure, and the car follows.

"No worries guys. I'll lose him." He has definitely done this before. He hits the accelerator and we weave through the back roads. I'm impressed with his driving skills. He is not quite Lewis Hamilton but for £7 I'm happy. 

We manage to get away from the following cab and for the first time I look at Audrina. Lines are networking her forehead. "We're okay they are gone." I try to make myself sound sure.

Lewis Uberton hits the brakes and we are suddenly stuck behind a huge lorry. I look back through the rear window, hoping that we remain lost. 

"They've found us." Audrina says. I whip my neck around and confirm her words.

"What should we do?" I ask the cabby. His previous confidence is gone. He locks the vehicle doors. No-one feels any more safe. 

The other cab stops 20 metres away. The man in the trench-coat gets out. His collar is still upturned and his face remains a mystery. He hobbles forward.

"I love you." Audrina grabs my hand. We haven't shared those feelings yet, but it feels right. 

"I love you too." I kiss her beanie hat and open the door. 

"No, please!" She nearly yanks my arm off, but I slip through her gloved grip. I shut the door and hear the doors lock again.

Great idea Tobias. The wind swirls above us. The street lights on this road aren't doing a great job of illuminating the street but for the first time I can see his face. He is ill. Not only ill, but dying. 

"Give me the paper!" His demand is swallowed by harsh gulps of air. He steadies himself and has another go. "Give me the paper."

It takes me a moment to realise what he wants. I don't ask any questions. I reach into my pocket and withdraw the paper. Was it pink? I thought it was yellow.

"Oh god!" He shouts. "Give it to me."

I hesitate. Questions grip my hands. In my moment of stalling he falls to the ground. His pain is carried by the wind and swirls around the street. 

I walk towards him. He is laying on his back blood is running down his noise, but he is still conscious. I hand him the paper. He refuses it.

"It's too late." He gargles and spits out blood. I'm not sure what to do. "Listen... in your hand, you have power... If you write down a name and visualise that person." More blood splatters from his mouth. I crouch down and cradle him into an upright position. "If you write down their name... they will die within 24 hours." My face shows my disbelief. "If you lose that paper... you've got twenty minutes before you become the next victim..." He squirms and fights, he knows his last breath is close. "The colours mean..." He grips my arm and then releases it. His body goes limp and his head falls to the side. 

I stand back, I've never seen a dead body before. A card falls from the corpses' pocket. Fear hesitates me, but curiosity moves me forward. I pick up the card. 

It reads Permanent Solutions - Johnny Vega.

My mind remembers and I look back at the sheet that is now crumpled in my hand. It's pink again and the name that was on it has vanished.  

"Wake the boy. He must see this." "Yes sir," The guard bowed and left the bridge. She walked down a long corridor ...

"Wake the boy. He must see this."

"Yes sir," The guard bowed and left the bridge.

She walked down a long corridor and stopped at a colourful door. She placed her hand against the door. "Welcome Frida." An automated voice greeted her and the door opened.

She stepped into the room, it was lit by a weak light that she couldn't work under. "Light on." She said and everything became bright. A more expressive person may have winced at the drastic change in light but not Frida. She hadn't let emotions govern her body in years and a little light wasn't going to change that.

"Your father beckons you my lord." She raised her voice to act as a waking call.

A young boy lay in bed, fighting to stay asleep. "Can't it wait?"

"No!"

The boy tossed and turned himself into an upright position. His hair stood on end like he had been electrocuted and his eyes burned a clear green. "Are we there yet?"

"No. You need to come with me, quickly... please."

'Please' pulled the boy to his feet. Frida never begged. He didn't bother changing from his pyjamas. She turned away and left the room, he trailed her.

Each of her steps were hurried and uncomfortable. The boy tried to piece together what was wrong. Once onto the bridge she froze. The boy walked out a few steps behind. Wrapped in silence, everyone was staring at a large screen.

The boy looked at the screen and saw a burning red planet. The image had coated the bridge in an fluctuating orange and red tint. He turned to Frida and her eyes were running like taps. It was a day of firsts, she never cried, ever. "Frida, what's happening?"

His voice broke the silence and his father, who was stood in the centre of the bridge, turned to him. "Come here son."

He hesitated, something was wrong. His father beckoned him with his hands. The boy wondered over to him, looking at all the faces around him. Brave men and women trembling and hugging each other. He was young when his mother died, but he remembered the sullen faces that death orchestrated on that day. They were here again, right in front of him, but who had died he wondered.

"What's wrong with everyone Dad? Has someone died?"

"Look at the screen son. What do you see?"

The boy turned and studied the screen. "Looks like a volcano planet. Maybe even a star?"

The father inhaled and chewed over his next words. "That is our planet son."

"What? No, it can't be... It's red! That's not our planet."

His father looked at him, his eyes were flooding but he fought to barrier them. The boy spun around, and all the faces were broken. His stomach cramped, he didn't want to believe. "How? We were there just yesterday."

A large eruption threw molten rock into space and several people screamed.

"We must go back and save them." Said the boy.

His father watched on, with every eruption he grimaced as if a knife was being turned slowly into his heart.

"Father! We must go back." The boy tugged at his father's arm. "What's the matter with you? We must..."

Several large explosions vomited orange gas into space. The planet trembled and cracks tore through it. Everyone on the bridge held their breath. The planet shook to a frenzy and then stopped. One last crack cut through the planet like a chainsaw through jelly. Searing white light flared from the cracks. The orange hue of the bridge diluted to a bright white. Everyone shielded their eyes. All was quiet then the ship shuddered and the white light eased. Hands lowered and the screen was watchable again.

The screen showed large rocks flying everywhere. A grey mist floated where the planet once stood. The father's barrier breached and tears rolled down his cheeks and soaked his beard. Frida dropped to her knees. The boy fell back onto the floor hard, events cloaked him with numbness.

Everyone watched their former home float around space in fractured pieces.

Breaking the sullen lul a red alarm sounded.

"What is it?" Asked the father to one of the men sat at a console closer to the screen.

"Fearakes, sir. Two ships heading this way."

"Battle stations! Battle stations." The father screamed at his broken people. "For the memories of our dead."

I was born too early to explore the galaxy and too late to explore the seas. So, I use Fantasy and Science Fiction to plug the void. Grew...

I was born too early to explore the galaxy and too late to explore the seas. So, I use Fantasy and Science Fiction to plug the void.

Grew up in London, getting lost in video games and 80s cartoons. My mum  still has everything on VHS.

At 18, I didn't know what I wanted to be but always enjoyed reading and writing so I chose to study English Literature at University. After I graduated, my urge to write had grown so I tried my hand at copywriting. I hated it and craved for the freedom to write my own ramblings so I started working on a book. 

Somewhere along the book writing journey I got into teaching and I've been juggling both ever since.

If you're still burning to know more here you go:

When I was a kid I wanted to be: A Thundercat

Favourite Music: I'm a lyric man. Regardless of genre, if the lyrics are clever and thoughtful i'll like it.

Favourite Book: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

Favourite Movie: Coin toss between Hook and Goodfellas.

Favourite Quote: Spike Milligan - I told you I was ill.

Favourite Author: Oscar Wilde.

Ultimate Goal In Life: To go to Antarctica and retrace the steps of Ernest Shackleton (without the disaster). 

One Wish: To sit on a train and overhear strangers talking about a book I wrote.

"Next!" A giant of a man stepped forward. If you can imagine a grizzly bear with tattoos splattered across its chest and face...

"Next!"

A giant of a man stepped forward. If you can imagine a grizzly bear with tattoos splattered across its chest and face, ripped jean shorts, warm spit frothing from its mouth, and a twitching eye. You'd be close to picturing him, but Grizzly's are far less intimidating.

"And you are Bone Connoisseur correct?"

He grunted and a substance bungeed from his mouth. It was thicker than spit but not as soupy as snot. He snorted and it returned to his mouth.

"So tell us about yourself." In the guise of covering a yawn she raised her hand over her nose and kept it there. A horrible smell was fumigating the alley way and all nostrils pointed to Bone Connoisseur.

He scratched his chest. His long nails left red marks wherever they touched. "I like to 'urt people. Like to see bone separate from flesh. Like to see the life leave their eyes."

The woman who had asked all the questions, so far, turned to her partner. "I don't think we want a murdering lunatic to protect us." Her hand still covered her face.

"I also like to 'urt people." Bone Connoisseur continued.

"You've mentioned that already." She said.

"That's cause I really like it." He stretched his neck, "If you want protecting. I'm your man." He grabbed his nose and blew out stream of green red stuff.

A few other applicants in the alley turned away as the snot hit the grey cobbled stone.

The woman's partner spoke for the first time. "We've got two trained assassins on our trail. One who only uses knives and another who only uses guns. How would you protect us from that?"

The fat cheeks that smothered his face lifted and his cavity ridden mouth was revealed for everyone to see. Those that knew Bone Connoisseur would have called this his smile, but to the ignorant it looked as if he was in pain. His lips twisted into an L shape, his nose twitched and his forehead furrowed.

"I'd take the knives from 'im and cut out 'is bones. I'd boiled everyone of them down and make trinkets from em. All except for one of 'is ulnas. I'd sharpen that and use it to slice up the throat of that coward that uses guns."

The man nodded and turned to his partner to share his pleasure in the answer.

"Sorry I'm late." A young girl ran into the alley. "I'm not too late am I?"

Everyone turned to her. She was slender and not too tall. Her hair was short on one side of her head and long on the other. It looked like it was suppose to be a pixie crop but she'd had second thoughts half way through and the hairdresser did their best to create something. She wore black boots that were too big for her and a green cloak that fitted her just right.

"No, you aren't but there is a queue." Said the woman, who was a little worried that this young girl was even there. Maybe she'd taken the wrong turning for the barbie convention?

"Ah can I just interview now please? I don't do well with waiting." She pulled out two pieces of paper and handed them to the man and woman.

Bone Connoisseur was trying to remove a piece of ear wax. He tilted his head sideways and gave it whack. He repeated this several times and all he got was a soar ear. He then tried dipping his dirty nails deep into his ear in an attempt to scratch out the wax. He corkscrewed his finger in and out of his ear, and then finally he hit the jackpot. His finger resurfaced and it was hideously black with wax and other dirt.

"A CV?" Said the man

The girl nodded, "And references if you need them."

The couple read the CV out of surprise more than anything.

"The name's Medina by the way. No abbreviations, just Medina!" She swung her arms back and forth as she waited for them to respond.

The woman began to scoff at what she was reading. "You want us to believe you protected The King? And fought at the battle of Veebs?"

"I have recommendations. You can check them if you want." Said Medina.

"Veebs happened 60 years ago. You need to stay in school little girl and study maths." The man rolled up her CV having seen enough.

"Ahhhhhh" A joyous scream came from Bone Connoisseur as he extracted the last piece of ear wax. He rolled it up and flicked it away. "Right I'm getting 'ungry. Are you going to choose me or what?"

The man and woman looked at the each other. They flashed a few looks at the rest of the applicants that were sat waiting and couldn't see anyone as vulgar or frightening as Bone Connoisseur.

"Are you going to choose this unskilled oaf?" Medina pointed so that no one could be mistaken as to who she was talking about.

"An oaf? Watch oo you are talking to girl. Your bones and hair would make a pretty set of paint brushes."

"Listen Medana," The man said, with impatience bubbling through him.

"Medina! I was very clear on that." She said.

"Whatever! Leave here, go home to your parents. This isn't a joke."

Medina rolled her eyes and took out two twin blades from beneath her cloak. They were blood red and had diamond encrusted hilts. She turned to Bone Connoisseur. "I'm going to attack you, please try and defend yourself. I hate killing the defenceless."

Every mouth in the alley way hit the floor. Attacking children was not beneath Bone Connoisseur and he lunged at Medina. She dodged his grab, rolled to her left and sliced off his hand. He screamed and jumped about. Blood squirted from his wrist like a shaken bottle of champagne. She then rushed toward him and cut out his right knee cap in one clean upward sweep. The piece of knee flew in the air and landed on the lap of an applicant. Bone Connoisseur crashed to the floor, his agony cut through the night air. He transferred his hand from his bleeding stump to what was left of his knee. His calf and shin dangled from his hamstring and thigh.

Medina reconcealed her swords. Bone Connoisseur rolled on the floor, and every expletive known to man spewed from his mouth.

"So is there anything else you want to know about me?" 

"Smee, Smee!" The captain jumped out of his bed and ran toward a lamp in his room. "Smee!" In through the door rushe...

"Smee, Smee!" The captain jumped out of his bed and ran toward a lamp in his room. "Smee!"

In through the door rushed a tiny man with a large stomach that peeped out through his shirt. His hair had left his head years ago and now resided around his cheeks and neck . "Yes Captain." He said.

The captain grabbed him by the shoulders, "He is here Smee! He is here!" He threw the lamp at Smee. 

The little man shone it around the room. High and low, left and right. "Well he has gone now captain. You must have scared him off."

The captain stood up from behind his grand chair. He had the chatter of his teeth under control but his legs still wobbled. 

"I can't keep doing this Smee. I haven't slept since I killed that wretched boy."

Smee manoeuvred his belly as he checked the little nooks in the room. "Well like I said Captain, what you need is a holiday. Reward yourself for your hard work."

The captain walked back toward his bed. He was down off his toes and walking flat on his feet again. "What will that do Smee? The shadow will follow me everywhere, his shadow will follow me everywhere." 

"Somewhere sunny captain, shadows don't like too much sun you know." Smee raised up from the floor and dusted himself off. "The north of Neverland is lovely this time of the year."

The captain dropped on to his bed, "Then at night time, let his shadow ruin me again? I'm Captain James Hook. I defeated the crocodile, I defeated Peter Pan and now I'm running from a shadow?"

"Not running captain, vacationing, its completely different." During his search, Smee had noticed a piece of cake on the captain's dresser and slowly edged towards it. 

"No! I will get that boy's shadow and be rid of him. Bring me Tiger Lily, I think it's time she finally talks." The captain stood up, his resolve was back.

Smee, who was shovelling cake into his mouth, left the room. Alone, the captain looked around. The fear of a few moments before trickled back into him. He grabbed the lamp on the table. Cake crumbs were all over the handle. 

The captain picked up the lamp and shone it left and right, trying to keep everywhere lit. Left and right the light swung and and then he saw it. He froze like a mannequin in a shop window. On the wall, darker than soot, a shadow of a boy floated. His arms were against his waist and if he had eyes they would have been looking directly at the captain.

The shakes returned to Hook's body, "Leave me!" 

The shadow wagged its finger. It lowered down the wall, and cast itself along Hook's piano. Hook took a step back. The shadow fell further and slide on the floor. It waited a moment, which felt like an eternity to Hook, then crawled toward the back peddling captain. 

"Here you are are Captain. Princess Tiger Lily" Smee burst back in with a small girl over his shoulders. 

The captain turned toward Smee and then returned to the shadow, but it was gone. He looked around the room, he thrust the light everywhere he could but saw nothing. 

Smee threw Tiger Lily on the ground with a thud. The sound broke Hook's moment of worry and he remembered why he had wanted with the Princess.

"Prop her up Smee." Hook said.

Smee grabbed the tied princess by the neck and dragged her to her knees. Her mouth was gagged and her large eyes were blood shot. Her tattered clothes barely covered her filthy skin. However, she still carried herself like a Princess. Her head was held high and and her shoulders refused to slouch. 

Hook walked in front of the princess and looked down at her. "Tell me Princess. How does it feel to know that you will be my slave until the last gulp of air leaves your pretty little mouth?"

Tiger Lily gave no reaction. Her defiance elongated Hook's smile, it had been one of the reasons he had kept her alive. If she had ever begged for her life he would probably have slit her throat like he did to most prisoners. There was something about defiance in the face of death that Hook respected.

"Smee remove that gag." Said Hook.

Smee ripped it from the princess' mouth and gave her matted hair a tug. "You better speak up this time girl." He rattled her head more and then let her go, some of her hair remained in his hands, blooded and clumped.

Tiger Lily showed no signs of pain. Her nose pointed to the ceiling and she stared at Hook.

"Now I am reasonable man." Hook was still stood above Tiger Lily. "I hate seeing you like this." He lowered to her eye level. "Help me, help you."

They locked eyes, and Hook caressed her nest of hair. "Tell me how to get rid of Pan's shadow and I will set you free." 

The word free widened the princesses' eyes. The captain had seen that word change the countenance of a thousand faces and knew Tiger Lily was thinking about it. She flashed him a smile. Men had waged war over her beauty and at that moment the captain could see why. He flashed his crooked set of teeth back at her. "We have a deal?" He asked.

Her smile turned into a tiny giggle and then erupted into a violent grimace as she hurled a torrent of spit at Hook. She jumped up to her feet with her hands still tied behind her back. The captain fell back, stunned. Tiger Lily went to kick him, but as she raised her leg to deliver the blow Smee bashed her across the back of her head. She fell to the ground, unconscious. 

"Savages captain, absolute savages. I don't know why you keep her around, honestly." Said Smee. He pulled a tissue from his back pocket and handed it to Hook.

"Because she is the answer Smee." The captain wiped his moustache. "She knows how to get rid of that shadow, and I will keep cutting the throats of her people until she tells me!"  

Hey guys book one of fifty two has been devoured and i'm ready for the next one. Before I give you my thoughts on Art of War, I want t...

Hey guys book one of fifty two has been devoured and i'm ready for the next one. Before I give you my thoughts on Art of War, I want to give you the link to my challenge, incase you want to follow it or see where I'm going next.

https://www.reddit.com/r/books/comments/5iqd7j/a_2017_reading_challenge_to_keep_you_well_rounded/

I would love some recommendations and thoughts.

The Art of War - Sun Tzu

The Art of War was written in the 500 BC by a Chinese Military General named Sun Tzu. It's a 13 chapter text devoted to various aspects of warfare. 

This book has always popped up in my life as a book I should read. Countless people have recommended it and even more have given me that face of disgust when I tell them it's on my to do list. Dave Grohl is exhibiting said face for your pleasure.

When I started reading and found out that it was a book actually about aspects of war I was surprised. Why would doctors, nurses and teachers recommend a work focused upon victory on the battle field? 

Somewhere through the second chapter, I realised why this book has had such a long lasting pull, and that my friends and colleagues aren't all hell bent on military success. 

With my literal hat off and my more colourful metaphorical one resting above my brow, the book opened up.

The Art of War highlights how to fight wars without fighting. 

"Move only if there is real advantage to be gained."

It gives advice on how to defeat your enemy before reaching the stage of battle. Battles can be anything from not eating chocolate and your enemy can be the voice in your head that tells you to re-watch every episode of Friends.

The ideas that filter through allow you to look at scenarios in your own life and think of different approaches. I've even used some elements in how I go about my writing. 

Studying your opponent and knowing your limits and strengths is something Sun Tzu returns to freuquently. If I take my opponent as my novel, I have to understand what I'm up against as best as I can. Approach the task with a level head, does sound like an easy answer when I word it to you, but there is something lasting about coming to the realisation yourself and adapting Sun Tzu's teachings for your own situations.   

The writing style of the text is very straight forward but that's what I expected. It's there to be clear and inform. 

I'd recommend this book to everyone, at least for one read. Personally, it doesn't have the re-read ability of a 'Tao Te Ching'. But it is something that I will return to from time to time.

My book for next week is supposed to be by an author from my country. I've chosen Neil Gaiman and after much deliberation I've gone for his novel 'Neverwhere.'

Anyone read it? Comment below and let me know what i'm in for :)

Thanks for reading x

Matt

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2..." He pulled back the hammer on his gun, ready to decorate the alleyway. He waited for 1... It ne...

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2..."

He pulled back the hammer on his gun, ready to decorate the alleyway. He waited for 1...

It never showed up.

He kept the gun held on his mark and checked his watch. The hands were still. He shook his wrist, "Cheap Taiwanese crap." 

He pressed the trigger and nothing. He checked his gun and smacked it a few times. He pointed it back at his mark and pulled the trigger, nothing. 

"Guess I'll have to do this the old fashion way." He returned his gun to his holster and withdrew a blade from his ankle.

He knelt down and prepared to slice the throat of his mark. Something didn't feel right. He had lost count of how many last breaths he had evoked and even the most twisted of men show something in the face of death. He took off the bag that was covering his marks head. 

The man was still. The tears on his face had frozen half way down his cheek. His hair was suspended in a state of disheveled.  

"What the hell?" He pushed the mark, but nothing moved. Not his hair, not his tie, not the expensive red jacket that made him so easy to find, nothing.

The assassin fell back onto his ass. He dropped his blade and shimmied backwards. 

He looked around, half looking for answers, half not sure what else to do. It dawned on him that everywhere was quiet. He stood up and walked out of the alley way, leaving his mark knelt on the floor.

He reached the connecting road and froze. Everything was still, mid motion, as if someone had hit pause on a DVD. Couples about to kiss, children on their parents shoulders, people checking their watches and mouths ajar.

Midnight hadn't come.

He walked between the people. He hoped that it was just some dedicated flash mob that would start moving again. He waved his hands in front of the children, but not even they blinked. 

A loud sound came from above him, and he tilted his head to see it. 

A red light lowered it self to the ground. He stepped back, put his hand on his gun even though he knew it wasn't working. 

The light dimmed and out of the brightness sprouted a young child. Bald, eyeless and wearing an oversized cream shawl.

"Why do you kill?" The voice fit the throat of an old women.

The assassin stumbled to a reply. "Who are you?"

"Why do you kill?" the child said.

"The money's good, the people are bad." He shrugged his shoulders. "Who are you?"

"Your hands will no longer take life. They will give it."

The assassin's hands glowed and became hot. He screamed, "What are you doing?"

He fell to his knees and shook his hands, as you do when they are hot, but it didn't work. "Please, stop, please."

The pain became unbearable. He was ready to black out when it stopped. He felt no after pain, nothing. 

"Go forward, assassin." The child opened its mouth and a red light crawled out and flashed. The assassin lost his eyesight for a moment.

"1, Happy New Year" The joint choruses celebrated. 

The assassin cracked open his eyes and a fat man hugged him. "Happy New Year buddy."

He looked around, unsure of what had happened. Everything was moving again and fireworks burnt through the night sky. 

As his mind came back to him, he remembered his mark. He searched for the entrance to the alley way, pushing anyone in his way. When he recognised it, he rushed for it. He bolted back to the spot but he was gone. 

"Shit."