Masks that Breathes
Hi there.
You can call me Ryu.
(Though my employers prefer ‘Asset.’)
I’m the last thing your target ever sees.
I work for a group that eliminates people on orders.
Some call it a loan shark business — I call it survival.
I won’t say I’m the best, but I’m above average — trusted enough to get missions directly from the top.
I work clean.
No emotions..... Mostly.
I don’t kill innocents.... Not anymore.
I don’t take missions directly from clients. That’s handled by our seniors.
Here’s how our system works:
The Boss is at the top.
Under him are Captains.
Below them, the Senior Assassins, Assassin.
Then: Apprentices. If we prove ourselves, we can become Seniors—and take on our own apprentices. I trained under a Captain. Someone close to the Boss himself.
So, sometimes, I get direct orders: gather intel, eliminate targets, clean up messes.
I wasn’t always this way. When I first joined, I refused missions. They beat me nearly to death for disobedience.
But now? Now, as a top apprentice, I can delegate low-level jobs.
That power... is a privilege.
“The kind that stains your palms even when you wash them.” A knife’s edge between freedom and chains.
I used to think I could stay neutral—just follow orders. But reality doesn’t work that way. And sometimes... when a grateful client thanks me with genuine tears, I feel something stir.
Maybe a little pride.
Maybe a spark.
(But sparks die first in the dark.)
