𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

Dawn. Daylight. Dusk. Twilight. Night.

Dawn. Daylight. Dusk. Twilight. Night.

The days bleed into each other and melt into the next.

Dawn. Daylight. Dusk. Twilight. Night.

He sits there, staring at the tools of his trade. Each one pristine, yet each one well-worn. Sazak takes care of his things, meticulously so. It wouldn’t behoove him to start getting sloppy and using defective or rusted items to carry out his work. As a result, his small basement “workshop” is filled to the brim with things he needs to maintain his equipment. Some things, however, have multiple uses, such as acid. An effective cleaning tool, and an even more effective means of getting rid of a corpse.

After a few moments of standing there, staring at his collection, he carefully fishes his scalpel out from its container of cleaning solution, and then sets about to wiping it off with a small grey microfiber cloth. The scalpel’s metallic surface is so clean that it reflects his face almost perfectly in the blade, the razor-sharp edge nearly capturing the evil gleam in his eye as he sighs wistfully, a lazy smile on his face.

He loves his job.

The scalpel is gently tucked into the leather roll of other tools he uses, fitting into the slot that it came from. Everything in its place, nothing out of order. Perhaps he’ll have use for it again sometime; it did make for such a nice, bloody kill. Sazak catches himself idly thinking about it, how much he delighted in the crimson spray of blood when he’d drawn the small but deadly blade across the symprite’s throat. The gurgling sounds they made as they choked on their own blood. The ever-slowing wheezing sounds of their breath as they laid there, losing life by the second. His client hadn’t had any particulars about the hit, so the means and method of carrying out the assassination was entirely up to Sazak, and he hadn’t had a proper good messy one for awhile.

Of course, the cleanup was another ordeal in and of itself, and Sazak is no stranger to the harrowing ordeal of meticulous cleaning, especially when a lot of blood and gore is involved. He has his own process for cleanup, his own chemical solutions, the whole kit and kaboodle. Scrubbing. A lot of scrubbing. Special bags that all of his chemical and blood-soaked towels go into, which later on get burned in a special little spot that no one else knows about. Hiding the evidence is essential; it’s not like murdering someone is a sanctioned act, even if you were paid to do it. Luckily, Sazak is good at what he does, and he’s never even come close to getting caught, and he undoubtedly ever will. If anything, he only becomes more skilled, more knowledgeable, with each hit he carries out, and it just makes him all the more better for it. Well, if you could call being a proficient assassin a better symprite. Context matters, supposedly.