A blade in the crowd
A robe of white
A finger of steel
He moves through out the market
Others go about there buissiness
He stands quiet watching waiting
Then the man appears
And he begins to move
At first he walks slowly throughout the crowd, he pushes them aside so effortlessly
Then as he nears he enters a sprint
The guards take notice but it is to late
The man and target are face to face, in one’s eyes fear of death
In the others the eyes of one who has killed before
cold eyes a expressionless face
his hand raises the target sees three fingers
Then the fourth appears
The cold steel digit comes near
then time stops the target is held in the mans arms
a moment of last respite for him
The man bids the target farewell and closes his eyes
time begins again
guards rush forth, people run terrified of the man before them
he runs hits the rooftops and runs even more
jumping climbing until he spots cover, and jumps into it and hides
finally the guards leave and the man exits his cover
he heads home not as a murderer of men
but as a hero of his brotherhood