Angel or Demon

Hound stood on the rooftop of a tall building, his eyes on the road below. The cars were barely differentiable from so high above. The night was chilly and the breeze was light, making his clothes rustle. This was his place of refuge, where he would stand for hours and hours. So high above, devoid of any eyes to see, ears to hear, and tongues to talk, he felt calm, at ease. The bloodshed did take quite alot from him. He did not let it show though, hiding it behind his arrogance, pride and emotionless eyes.

He was still afraid, what if Creed's name came up? What will he do? Will he be able to pull the trigger? He would certainly have to. He wouldnt break the code, not again. The first and only time he had done so had been a total disaster. It had twisted his life beyond recognition. It still escaped him, why had he broken it in the first place?
"Kayla." He said her name out aloud, his tongue carassing it as if it were a child. He remembered the night very well. He'd prepared like he always did. The plan was in place, the weapon of choice ready. It was to be quick, very. The girl was defenceless, innocent. The purpose, as he learnt later was to shake Hector Creed. The girl's innocence didnt bother him in the slightest, he'd killed many who had no play in anything before.

He crept into the apartment, arriving through the door. It was a pretty modest place, nothing lavish, but nowhere pathetic too. The lock was quite simple, nothing that caused him any hinderance. What really annoyed him was the fact that the girl wasnt there. He waited for her to come, sitting in full view. He locked the door. It'd give off a much better effect. Theatrics was his speciality and weakness, some said.
After a full, long, excrutiating 15 minutes, he heard somebody behind the door. He'd kill whoever that was out of mere frustration, he thought. The person fidgeted with the lock, making Hound more agitated. The door swung finally open, it was the girl, he was sure. She was carrying a huge load of groceries which hid half her torso including her face. The room was dark, the only light came from an open window to the doorway, a couple paces from where she stood. Fuck. He thought. Theatrics gone to hell. She couldnt see him.

She tried to open the lights, causing the bags to topple. They fell on the floor, grocery scattering across the floor. Hound got his first glance. With a jolt, he bounded from the door to hide besides the dresser. What the- Hound thought. The girl was farely simple, very simple. She had started to laugh at what had happened, the tinkling sound annoyed Hound to no ends. What stupid person'd laugh at his own screw up? What annoyed him more was his behaviour. He was baffled. Why had he hid? The Great John Hound had run and taken refuge besides a dresser. From a girl. What. The. Hell. He frowned.

The lights came on as the girl's laughter faded. He remained hidden, the dresser big enough to hide him from the girl for the time being. He shook his head in disappointment. What was he doing. He peaked from his hiding place, the girl was busy collecting what had fallen. She was still smiling, a full, teethy smile. Her black hair were tied in a pony tail. The small, slightly chubby creature with the teethy smile and black hair pissed him off. She annoyed him to no ends.

Yet he didnot approach her, didnot take out his gun and put a bullet in her head as he was instructed to. He just held back. Waiting, but for what? She started humming some stupid song. Will she stop?! He thought, clenching his teeth.

She finally picked up the fallen stuff and put it on a table. Hound took a deep breath. Holding it in, he bounded towards her, taking out a gun from the holder on his waist. The girl turned towards him and yelped, not noticing the gun in his hand. She started laughing.

"Mister you gave me a fright. Are you here to rob something? I dont have anything valuable, but if you need help, I could give you some money?" She smiled, her eyes sparkling.

He looked at her, confused. What type of a person was this?

A "What?" was all he could manage.

"Okay, so why are you here?" She asked, taking a step back and looking at him. "By the looks of you, you dont need anything. I'm an innocent girl, Mister, I dont have anything to do with anything."

He frowned at her, baffled.

"Aren't you afraid?" He whispered.

"Of what?" She shrugged.

"Shut up." He put his gun between her eyes. For some reason, he wasnt quite sure about what he should do next.

The girl continued to look at him. Her brown eyes seemed to penetrate his, right to the soul. This was odd. She had a gun on her forhead and she wasnt reacting at all. She was supposed to be pleading or running by now, yet here she stood.

The resolve on the girl's features and the utter bravery in the face of death astounded him. She's a Creed after all, he thought. He tried to pull the trigger, but his finger wouldnt budge. He put both his hands on the gun and tried again.

That day, for the first time in his "career", he hadnt carried out a kill. He couldnt pull the trigger.