Here are the words, remember, they are largely unedited and so in much need of being hit with a stick (much like myself most days) but that stick will come in the new year... At some point.
As an assassin I do my best not to speak to people on a regular basis; the client and the go between are always far better off not knowing that the man they are about to send to kill someone for them is a massive S Club 7 fan and loves Chick Lit and Rom-Coms. They want someone that snaps necks for breakfast, lunch and dinner. They want someone who is interested in the money and nothing else. They want someone as cold as ice, because that’s what they assume you have to be like to do some of the terrible and crazy shit I do to people.
The truth is that most of the assassins I’ve met were military trained, had a rigid structure to their life and were taught to kill by society’s engine itself, or by the other turn were guys that had come up on the streets and were brutal fuckers that would stab their mothers in the ear if the man in charge told them to. The first was more cold and clinical while the second was animalistic and could be more unpredictable.
That was what made me so special; I was a self made man. I didn’t have the structured legitimacy of an agency killer or a Royal Marine, and yet I did as good a job, if not better, than they would. I also had the rough twist of a man who was self taught, who had fought for the right to command respect in the community and that everyone knew was someone not to be fucked with. But I didn’t have a mob boss to strip away at my humanity and become indebted to, I was free to make my own decisions and pick my own targets.