There is no C in Film Noir again

Mood: Miaoooo
Currently: explaining what 'overkill' means to some lesserly-geeky humans

The Seduction of D

Early the next morning, the forensics team arrived to examine the strangely positioned corpses, while journalists constantly relocated themselves to get a better view of the crime scene.

D stood and watched, intent and devoid of all emotion.

In his hands were the morning paper and a cup of espresso. Never one to trust anybody, D poured some of his coffee onto the front page. It burned.

The man who had served D at the stand was gone and had been replaced by a cheerful young woman. Indifferent, D redirected his attention back on the crime scene.

A photojournalist brushed past, and D saw the flash of a familar insignia. Then he knew - members of "the organization" had come to revisit the scene of the crime.

D had neither friends nor foes. He worked for nobody and against nobody. His agenda was his own.

He turned and walked away, completely ignoring the red dot that had begun shining on the back of his trenchcoat.

"No sex, no storyline," read a advertising poster overhead.

There was no sound when the bullet left the barrel. The silencer was made from top-grade German industrial tungsten.

Yet, the bolt lagged and D had walked another twenty metres before the round reached its destination.

The sniper flipped opened his phone only to be greeted with a SMS reading, "N00B" from his boss.

D managed a slight chuckle and continued walking. Feeling lucky, he took a sip from his chemically-engineered espresso.

He did not get the chance to have a second taste.