STRANGERS; The rain came down, its heavy rainfall pounding on the black Camaro which sat silent along the neighborhood street, it's windows tinted so black it would be impossible to see anyone inside. Overhead the grey and forbidding sky seemed to reflect Clayton's emotions. This was his last knock and his team would be assembled. Reaching to the passenger seat he picked a file which sat among many more and opened it to see a picture of a woman. He found himself looking at this picture a lot, though he wasn't sure why. Sighing heavily he turned the picture over and continued to the written file. It was all basic; ROXANNE- orphaned at a young age, bounced around in foster care and as far as anyone knew; she was just a housewife....she was a wife -his stomach flipped when he read that- closing the file for what seemed like the hundredth time he opened his door and stepped out- swiftly making his way across the street and towards the walkway...leading to her door. FOLLOWING IN FOOTSTEPS; They were like their parents, living the same life they had and doing the same jobs they did. This is what it meant to be apart of Morieris. This life wasn't …show more content…
All were different but they had one singular thing in common; they were apart of an elite organization which specialized in finding and assassinating those they had been hired to rid of. Among these people was Clayton Malory; he had lead /this/ generation of Morieris since those knocks on the door not too long ago and since then the team had worked together on every mission with flawless effort. Though when it came to personal relationships, the group was far from perfect- something that had to be kept under wraps, if the bosses knew there was emotion from any of the assassins they'd have people in here to correct the wrongs quick. Something that wouldn't be too good for any of the people involved. All control would be lost and given