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04:46 AM

The heat was almost palpable as was the trademark weather of Miami, Florida. It was daytime, with the sun at its highest point in the sky, shining down on both locals and tourists. Most would either be at the beach or perhaps biking around, some even trying to escape the hot rays. But only some of those people actually lived in the area. Most were there vacation. It was obvious by their fanny packs, visors, tied sweaters (why would anyone have one in this weather?), and backpacks, but that was a common site anywhere that could be a vacationing town.

However, those that did live in Miami could be rather wealthy by any means, be it by drug pedaling, fraud, or having loose ties with the mafia, but if it gave you beach front property one might as well. One such palace was owned by quite the unknown, yet all that important mafia member. Which, was why a certain black haired boy, well a black haired man resided a few blocks over from the residence. The job was simple really, just be as stealth as possible while following his plan to kill the man. He checked his pockets for weapons, all while sweeping and tying up his hair.

The worst thing that he could do was leave behind evidence. Really, he should shave his head, but being bald already makes you recognizable. He didn't want to leave behind anything to alert to guards, police, or even the help so he left the guns at home and opted for something a little more stealthy. Currently, he was dressed as a relatively normal looking person who could have been a pool cleaner, but in reality he wasn't. But hell, no one needed to know that.

He walked at normal pace, soon reaching his destination and of course without any problems. The maid had answered the door and with a silent greeting, he was led out to the backyard where a huge pool had taken up most of the yard, though it still left able room for folding chairs, a jacuzzi, a lawn, and various types of exotic plants. It was ostentatious really, but who was he to talk? He didn't exactly have his own yard either (but from experience, he was lucky that this yard didn't have a glass door instead of a wooden one). Once the maid left, it was just him and his target.

The man wasn't a tough target, diminutive in height with a beer belly and a cigar burning away between his index and middle finger. He was sitting inside a bubbling jacuzzi despite the heat, his face red from either the wine held in his other hand or the sunlight that beat down on his balding head. So the "pool boy" went to work, walking over to his target and immediately whipping out his fiber wire and wrapping it around the wrinkled neck of the mafia male. Without air, the target soon collapsed, his form crumpling. The pretend pool cleaner pocketed his weapon and lifted (with a grunt) the dead body. Now the question was where to hide it.

Would drowning be a good enough alibi? Aside from the visible red line around the neck there wasn't really any other evidence of strangulation. There was nowhere else to hide the body and people would start to suspect something if he didn't act fast... He continued to heave the body until he reached the deep end of the pool, slowly dropping in the dead body. Another job finished. He would have given himself a pat on the back, but he still needed to get out of there.

With a sigh, the hitman stretched and knocked on the wooden door, being let in again and showed out all while admiring the various luxuries of the house: a granite counter for the kitchen, a huge, flat screen television, and even foosehockey table. Sure it might not seem like lot, but hell, he was kind of a cheap person. This was quite the ample amount of things. He exited the house, cracking a fake smile before walking away in the same direction that he came, wanting very much to ditch the clothing. A collared shirt and khakis really weren't his style of clothing.