A/n: I was playing assassin's creed and I was struck with inspiration and now we are stuck with this shit. So enjoy!

You slip the shimmering blade into your boots. You are perched on the roof of Ouran High School. Your target, Kyoya Ootori. 17 years old. Tall. Black hair and eyes. Glasses. Slim. Someone called in a favor. You sigh. You hate these missions. But it comes with the job. You have never assassinated someone before. You have only killed in self-defense.

You creep into an open window and silently close it. Your hood falls, and you hastily pick it up and place it back on your head. The Ootori family is very powerful and is notorious for killing off assassins who dare threaten their glorious family. You can't get caught.

Music Room Three is where he tends to be. Or so you have heard. You creep along the halls and look at the signs. Music Room Three. It is five o'clock. No one except your target should be present. You quietly open the door and see a well lit room. Your target lays in a couch, seeming to have dozed off. His glasses lay on the table next to him.

Too easy, you think, but you remain diligent. You pull a dagger from your belt and creep towards the couch, careful not to make noise. 

Goodbye Mr. Ootori, You think. You slam the blade down. You see a hand flash and suddenly you are on the couch your target previously occupied, your knife now on the table beside you.

Mr. Ootori straddles you and pins your hands above your head.

"(Y/n) (L/n), you are a rookie. What awful person made you do this." You raise your head in defiance. "You were orphaned at six, lived on the streets of New York for some time. Became a hired gun at age 11, but you have never killed anyone without good reason." Your eyes widen as your life is told to you in a few sentences.

"I underestimated you, Mr. Ootori." Your (e/c) eyes flicked up to meet his black ones. "That will never happen again."

"Of course not, my dear, because you will never kill again." He smirks.

You laugh. "Are you going to kill me, Mr. Ootori?" I ask mockingly. He lets out a dark chuckle.

"Of course not. But I will give you a choice. Come live with me, go to this school, and repay your debts, or have a fatal accident." He put an emphasis on the word actions. I weighed my options.

"I'll go, but I have a bit of steel left in me." I glare at him, not enjoying having to be submissive and him having the upper hand.

"I look forward to our newfound partnership, Ms. (L/n)."

A/n: There will be a part two!

Becca