Passing thoughts, blurred words inside the mind. That subtle nudging within yourself as you go on through out your day, telling you which was right, and which was wrong. Some quiet whisper of a voice speaking to you, guiding you. If there was any more ridiculous a notion, Unon definitely was yet to find it. He couldn't think of anything more made up than the thought of 'morals'. No, those things were just a way of thinking what you were doing was justified, saying that your actions were the right ones, that you did it because you were following your inner 'morals'. A bunch of jack ass bullshit. That's all it was. Unon had no morals. He did what he did because he wanted to, because it was in his very nature. He wasn't going to justify his actions, he wasn't going to back it up with washed up words. Nor was he ever  going to apologize.<br/><br/>These particular thoughts were what happened to be slipping through his mind as he ran along in the shadows, moving quicker than that of a crow flying. His hair whipping the sides of his face, and his forehead, his blood red eyes focused on the path ahead of him. Balconies, phone and electricity wires, ledges, rails, rooftops, and more. He never took the lower path on the ground below, there were too many obstacles that would get in his way. Humans more than any other thing.<br/><br/>Humans...disgusting creatures. Why he had to look like one he had no clue, but he guessed it was just how things had to be in order to fit in, to pass as just another and not be suspected. Not that it mattered, he'd just kill whoever found out about what he really was. It was just that easy. And no one could do it better than him. That would be the day if he was ever to find another who had more skill in the art of killing. But he knew that day would never emerge, as there was none like him. Death itself, with a gun to take the lives of others. Who would have known?<br/><br/>As he ran forward, he recognizes his surroundings, keeping an eye peeled for the spot. All of his 'appointments' had particular places, pick up and drop off. He never met any of his customers, the only way he was anointed a job was through a written letter, an invitation, a wish, to have a particular person or persons eliminated, for the right price of course. He didn't do this line of work for free. Reaching a corner by a worn down shop that had been closed a week or so ago, Unon drops to the concrete sidewalk below, which was deserted. He glances around, as he walked up to a planter, and places the scrap of the sleeve from the man he'd taken it from in the dirt, covering it just enough so it was almost completely covered, but enough so that it's intended could see that it was there.<br/><br/>Finished, he jumps back up to the phone line he'd been high wiring, and darts along it, continuing on his way. He had a day to wait, and if the money was not there, he'd just have another target for him to hunt down and take out. It was a rule. Hiring Unon was steep, and definitely not cheap. He accepts no less than a grand in payment, cash. If you hire him, say you'll pay, then you better. Or you will find yourself with a target on your back as well.<br/><br/>The light was quickly fading from the sky, as Unon continued on his way, heading to the older part of the town, that was run down and supposed to be uninhibited. Even hobos, the poor, and the homeless of the city never wandered there, due to the vibe that was given off when stepping foot there. And, because of this, it was the perfect place for Unon to stay when he wasn't out and about doing his business. The place comes in to sight, a high rise building that used to be hotel. In places it was falling apart, some rooms had just windows missing, others had the whole wall falling out, exposing the inside to outer weather. Reaching it, he jumps the walls quite easily, ending up on the top floor. There was a balcony, and set of doors that lead inside, which he goes through. Once inside, he raises his arms above his head and stretches, sighing deeply. Home.<br/><br/>It was actually nice on this level, since Unon took care of it. The room he'd landed in was his bedroom, what used to be the master suite, with a huge king sized bed, a soft carpet, and a table and chairs in the corner. There was a walk in closet and a huge bathroom connected to it, with a hot tub. A giant screen TV was across from the bed, and surprisingly the electricity was still turned on. Another part there was a large kitchen with a connected dining room, a living room which he'd made by combining two of the smaller hotel rooms, and other random rooms. One particular was dedicated to his weapons and such. All in all, he was living like a millionaire without even having to pay for it.<br/><br/>Glancing out the window, he couldn't ask for a better view. It gave him a whole lay out of the entire town, and from here he could even see the bar that he'd filled with dead bodies. A smirk plays at his lips as he turns away, taking his gloves off before pulling his skin tight black, long sleeved shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside. Underneath was a flawless body, slender, but there was obvious muscular structure. Leaving his pants on, he takes his shoes off, before heading out of the bedroom, and going to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he pulls out a can of beer, opens it, and takes a swig, sighing in content as the cool liquid ran down his throat. His body didn't need sustenance, but it was nice to have a drink every once in a while, and he liked food, though it wasn't necessary.<br/><br/>Padding quietly across the floor to another room, he plops down in the black leather couch that was in the living room. Pretty much everything in that place was colored black, except for the wooden things, and a few white and red things here and there. Picking up the remote off the glass coffee table, he turns the TV on, to watch the evening news, amused to see that the story of what had just happened on. Obviously they were getting it all wrong, and he couldn't help but to laugh emptily to himself as he watched.<br/><br/>Tomorrow he would have to go out during the day, he had a few errands to run, get a few things at the store. It was annoying, but nothing could be helped. It had to be done. Sighing, he places the arm that wasn't holding his beer behind his head, and stares up at the ceiling, the smirk disappearing from his lips. Now he had a blank, almost dead expression on his face, as thoughts once more swirled through his mind. He could feel...that someone was talking about him...