Fletch stood on the rooftop, the rest of his crew crowded around him. Two snipers were perched either side of him and three fighters were positioned behind him. About a mile away, the recognisable shape of the prime minister could be seen. His red cloak was apparent between the heathers of the moor.

This was a simple job, a mere assassination. Fletch had plenty of people with him and the prize would be well worth the bullets it took. It was almost like a standoff. It was a shame the prime minister was alone.

One of his three fighters approached from behind, speaking in a gruff tone, “He watches from afar. What shall we do about him?”

Fletch pretended to ponder it, tapping his chin in feigned thought, “Hold your fire. Find a deadly mark in which you can shoot.”

“The snipers can’t shoot that far, sir.” Another man said.

“It’s a warning.” A smirk crept on his face, “We need him to know that we have _control_.” Fletch made his way to the ladder going down the building.

“Sir?”

“Hmm?” Fletch glanced back at his men.

“Where are you going?”

“We can’t kill a man from a mile away, can we?” He said, climbing down the ladder.

A sniper looked up from the gun, “We should come with you, no?”

“Oh, no, too obvious.” Fletch landed on the ground, “besides, we didn’t set up those guns for nothing.”

After a while of striding through alleyways, Fletch found where the city split into purple moorland. Crouching low, he ascended the hill, silently drawing a handgun. The prime minister was unarmed… but why? They had been stood on the hill for ages, he had plenty of time to run, to call for backup. Was it arrogance or indecision? Was it bravery or stupidity?

They all fall into the same category anyway…

“How much did they pay you?” The sudden voice made Fletch flinch. Dammit… what gave him away?

“Thats none of you concern.” He straightened himself, not bothering to be inconspicuous any longer.

“Just tell me.” The prime minister’s stress was clear by the clenching of his sweaty hands, “I need to know the price of my life.”

“Twenty thousand and a legacy.” Fletch said, letting his gun click to remind the other man who was in charge.

“Ah, a legacy.” He stared into the city, “How very idealistic.”

“It isnt idealistic when it is down to a mere gunshot.” Fletch snapped defencively.

“It’s a promise, not something that can be guaranteed.”

Fletch’s hand moves to the trigger, “What do you gain from undermining my hopes?”

“Nothing. I can do what I want with the last minutes of my life, can’t I?”

“Smartass.” He quipped.

The prime minister let out a low chuckle, crossing his arms.

Fletch couldnt help but feel a begrudging sense of respect towards the man… he really was responsible.

“You were a good prime minister.”

The prime minister basically winces at the past tense, “do you _have_ to do this?”

“No…” Fletch lifted his gun, “but I have five other people waiting on their pay, too.”

“And if you don’t pay them?”

“I don’t even want to think about that.” Fletch sighed, pressing the barrel of the gun against the prime minister’s forehead.

“You’re hesitating. You know thats not a good trait for an assassin.” The other man muttered, looking Fletch dead in the eyes.

“You always were bossy.”

“It’s my job.”

“What? As the prime minister?”

“No, as your brother, idiot.”

Fletch let the gun fall and swiftly lunged into the prime minister’s arms.

“Screw you…” the assassin muttered fondly.

**-No idea how to finish so I would love some suggestions. I also think that it may have been a bit far fetched.. I also couldnt find a name for the prime minister, so sorry about that :)-**