"As he heard the front door open Markus sat silently in his chair in the dinning room. He profiled the Victorian style home enough times to know how many steps a six foot three man would take to go from the foyer to other rooms of the house. He counted them all himself dozens of times over and over. From the creak of the floor he could tell the man was still placing his coat and briefcase in the front closet. A few more footsteps ten seconds later that echoed signaled he was slowly making his way to the bathroom located by the kitchen. His target would soon be within sight of him. Markus heard the bathroom door close and then the steady stream of relief that echoed in the tranquil home. As he sat there listening to a man who would soon meet his end just moments after having a sense of pleasure, Markus felt no anxiety or hesitation about what he soon had to do. This wasn't his first rodeo and as he held his gun in his right hand. The gloves he had on gave him ample hand movement if he had to rough up the man. His breaths were calm and shallow, something he noticed he did during the moments before he took out his marks on numerous occasions before. As the man finished up in the bathroom he noticed he didn't wash his hands, disgusting prick Markus thought. The door opened and the footsteps started to sound closer as the man walked through the hallway to the kitchen. With a flick of the wrist the man who hadn't a care in the world at the time turned on the kitchen lights and went straight to the fridge. For a few moments the man scrounged through the fridge looking for something to satisfy his gluttony. As he reached to back to grab a beer Markus calmly said, "Grab me one too please." The man immediately turned around to see a dark figure holding a silenced 9mm in the shadows. Within a matter of moments the homeowner was running towards Markus but he failed to see the trip wire that was set there hours beforehand. With a thud the man tripped and hit his head on the corner of his dinner table causing a bone crushing impact strong enough to kill a man half his weight. Markus had planned every movement of his target. He had profiled the body laying on the floor long enough to know that he had a fight reaction in strenuous situations. With the blood slowly pooling around the exposed skull of the man whose name he didn't even bother to learn laying on the floor Markus got out of the chair silently, holstered his pistol and went to take apart the trip wire that hadn't been ripped out of the walls. He applied wall putty to the holes he had made for the device and applied a small coat of white paint that would be dry within a day, more time then what was needed since the police wouldn't find the body for a few more after that. He crossed the house to the front door and took his leave, making sure he locked it using a copy of a key he had hand made. He took out a phone he had purchased that day from a gas station, dialed the only number saved in it and waited for the man on the other end to answer. When Markus heard a man slowly breathing he spoke a few hollow words, " It's done, send my funds." The man's rebuttal was only one word, "How?" Markus spoke something that he had known to be true about himself for a while now, "Don't worry, I'm the best and the job is done." With that he ended the call and turned off the phone that he would soon dispose of. Another job done, another phone to throw away, and he had stopped counting phones after 73."
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