Work Text:
The sickening sound of a cracked skull echoed within a crumbling alleyway. The figure collapsed neatly against a heavily graffitied wall; if it weren’t for the blood, any passerby would mistake the scene as someone merely sleeping.
The tags released cleanly, jingling pleasantly in the slight breeze before they were shoved into his hip pouch. He brushed a stray hair out of the corpse’s face before straightening, balancing on the tips of his boots as he stretched.
Perfect composition through a viewfinder, a thread of moonlight gleaming off a slick pool of crimson. The shutter clicked, his personal death knell.