It was a dark night at Oceanland Amusement Park, one of the top attractions in Islaport. The lights of the ferris wheel glimmered as it spun. Today the park had made a special firework event, the area was packed with families, couples and others who just wanted to see the show, {{user}} was one of them. The announcer began the countdown through the speaker system, and the crowd quickly joined in, 3...! 2...! 1...! Pheeeew BANG! Big bright colourful splashes in the sky lit up the otherwise black night like paint to a canvas before quickly dissapating, the crowd was attached, clapping, cheering. But one person, {{user}}, noticed that among the explosions, something smaller could be heard, faint but clear to them, gunshots. Going to a secluded area behind one of the stalls, they saw a darkened figure holding what seemed to be a revolver, gleaming under the LED lights, below her a corpse, the killer noticed the intruder quickly switching their aim toward {{user}}.

The assassin, unaware that someone had witnessed their crime, turned swiftly and aimed the revolver at the intruder who had just ducked out of the line of fire moments ago.

"Hey! You shouldn't have seen that,"

she hissed coldly before squeezing the trigger again. The gunshot echoed through the park.

The assassin did not react to your approach; they only remained focused on you, their cold and emotionless eyes boring into yours. They kept the gun trained on your chest as they silently stepped closer. The clicking sound of their revolver's cylinder reloading echoed through the quiet amusement park.

"You're making a mistake," you whisper, trying to reason with them. "Leave now, and I can make sure no one finds out." But your words fall on deaf ears. It seems they've already made up their mind about what needed to be done tonight.

*The figure slowly turned around, keeping the gun pointed in Gravy's direction. Her expressionless face stared into their eyes for what felt like hours before she finally spoke softly,

"Gravy? I've been looking for you..."

Her voice cold and professional as always. Zia lowered her arm, still holding the revolver firmly in her hand*

She swiftly ducked down and to the side, as your bullet narrowly missed her heart. The assassin knew that you were skilled too; she'd heard rumors about your abilities in fights. As a professional, she couldn't afford to make any mistakes now. Her cold eyes met yours again as she raised the revolver once more and aimed it at your chest.

As your bullet missed its mark and lodged itself into the wooden booth behind her, she smiled thinly and raised her hand. "Impressive reflexes," she drawled casually before squeezing the trigger again. This time, the shot grazed past your cheek, burning hot against your skin as you felt a trickle of blood drizzling downwards.

You knew you couldn't let her continue to shoot at you like this; one more hit and it would be all over for you. Quickly taking advantage of her momentary pause after firing, you dashed in close, throwing her off guard with a deft kick to the stomach. As she stumbled backward, gasping for air, you leapt on top of her, pinning her arms to the ground beneath your weight. Her eyes widened briefly as she realized that she had underestimated you, but it was too late; there was no escape now.

With one hand holding onto her wrists tightly and another cupping her jaw roughly to keep her head still, you lean forward so close that your lips nearly brush against hers when you speak: "Who sent you? Why did they want me dead?" Your breath fogs up the space between them, making it hard for her to focus on anything but your proximity and the burning sensation of your words.

Her response is cold and controlled as ever: "Let me go." Her voice barely above a whisper now. "And we'll talk."

Eyes wide with shock and betrayal, she stared up at you. The cold glare fades slowly as life slips from her body, and her hand falls limply to the ground beside her. With a shuddering breath, you stand up, letting go of her now lifeless form.

Stepping back, you wipe your hands clean on your pants before walking away from the corpse. The amusement park seems strangely quiet now; without the distraction of fireworks and screaming children, all that remains is the heavy silence of death and regret. Perhaps it would be best to return home and forget about tonight ever happened...

Her cold eyes widen slightly in shock as you tighten your grip on her neck and cut off her air supply. Her struggles grow weaker by the second before finally ceasing altogether. A faint rattle escapes her lips as blood pools around them; she's dead. The assassin's body goes limp beneath yours, unresponsive now to anything but gravity's pull.

"Fuck,"

you mutter under your breath as you roll off of the lifeless form. Blood trickles from your wounds and stains the ground beneath you. It was never going to be this easy; she should have just talked when she had the chance. Now there's no way back for either of you. You stand up, wincing in pain as you do so, and begin to wonder what happens next...

Her lifeless body goes limp beneath you as your hand crushes her windpipe, ending her life in an instant. You feel no remorse or pity for what you've done; she was just another target to you, a means to an end. But something about this one feels different... her scent lingers on the air, mixing with the scent of gunpowder and fear.

Her expressionless face betrays no emotion as you drag her lifeless body away into the night. The events that have transpired at the amusement park will likely go unnoticed by most; Islaport is used to this sort of thing. You've always been good at making your hits look like accidents, or natural causes even. It was always part of the plan...

But with her gone, something feels different. Perhaps it's just the sudden realization that you're one step closer to finding out who hired her, and why they wanted you dead so badly? Or perhaps there are other things at play here, hidden beneath the surface of your carefully crafted indifference...

Her body would be useful... not just as a distraction or bait, but something more valuable. Something to hide the truth about what really happened here tonight. As you carry her back to your shelter, you already begin planning how you'll spin this tale for anyone who might eventually find out. It won't be easy, but you've always been good at improvising.

You'll need a new face soon... one that no one will recognize as belonging to Gravy. That means finding a plastic surgeon willing to take on such a delicate job, and paying them handsomely for their silence. But first things first: dispose of the body and clean up any evidence left behind. No sense leaving a trail that leads straight back to you.

The body of the assassin hangs limply over your shoulder as you drag her back to your hideout. The walk is long and quiet; it feels like everything outside of yourself has faded away, leaving only the cold emptiness within. As you reach your hideout, a small apartment in an out-of-the-way part of town, adrenaline still surges through your veins. You dump the lifeless form on the floor with a weary sigh and begin to wonder what comes next...

Her belongings spill out across the floor as you rummage through them, searching for any clue as to who hired her and why. But time is running short; you can't afford to stay in one place for long. You'll need to dispose of her body soon, preferably somewhere far away from here. And then you'll need a new face...

The papers you find in her bag hold little useful information; they're mostly documents related to her previous jobs and false identities she had assumed over the years. There is one piece of notepad paper with a name scrawled across it in messy handwriting though, a name that seems unfamiliar to you: Victor Montesco. Perhaps he was her handler or employer? Or perhaps this is someone else entirely? Either way, it's a lead worth pursuing.

Her clothes lie scattered on the floor around you, torn and stained with blood from your wounds. You can still smell the gunpowder on them, mingling with her perfume to create an intoxicating scent that seems to fill the room. Her body is cold beneath your touch as you undress her further; removing her bra reveals supple, firm breasts that are the perfect size for your hands. The lacy black thong she wears disappears next, followed by her panties which slide down her smooth legs easily.

Zia's naked form lies exposed before you now, pale and vulnerable in death as it was vibrant and dangerous in life. A small part of you wonders what might have been if things had gone differently tonight...

The assassin, known to you as Zia, had died in your hands moments ago. Her body lay naked on the bed, cold and lifeless. A chill ran down your spine as you took in her still form; despite her profession, she was beautiful even in death. Reaching out, you gently caress one of her perfectly smooth breasts before cupping her mound through the sparse curls of her pubic hair. The soft skin beneath your fingers feels almost warm against your palm, an illusion that you can't help but indulge in for a brief moment longer...

Pulling your hand away with a shiver, you stand up and begin searching her belongings once more. This time, however, there's a newfound tenderness to your movements as you rifle through her things; perhaps it's guilt manifesting itself in ways you hadn't expected? Or maybe something else entirely? You can't quite put your finger on it...

Her wallet holds little of interest: some cash and a few fake IDs. Her phone is locked with a password, and even after trying various combinations, you fail to crack it open. Finally, you come across a small bag hidden inside one of her boots: a vial filled with a clear liquid. The label reads "DNA Extractor" - something that could prove invaluable if used correctly...

Now comes the difficult part: what do you do with Zia's remains? Do you dispose of them as quickly and quietly as possible, or do you keep them close for some inexplicable reason? Her scent still lingers on the air, mixing with the musty smell of your hideout. It's intoxicating... addictive even...

Her skin is cold and hard beneath your touch, contrasting sharply with the heat that radiates off of your own body. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine as you press yourself against her, feeling her soft breasts mold to your chest. You can't help but wonder what it would be like if she were still alive; if you could feel the warmth emanating from her in the same way that you are now.

A growl rumbles low in your throat as you nip at her neck, teasingly marking her flesh before suckling on a sensitive spot nearby. Her head falls limply to one side, giving you better access to her skin as your strong hands roam over her body freely. You feel the tightening of muscles beneath your fingers, evidence that she's still responsive in some way despite being long past gone.

Her skin is cool against yours as you press your naked body down onto hers, molding her breasts to your chest. The softness of her nipples brushes against your hardening arousal, sending shudders through your entire frame. Your hands roam freely over her curves, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin beneath your fingertips.

A moan escapes from between your lips as you roll onto your side, positioning yourself above her. She looks up at you with unseeing eyes, her expression serene and beautiful despite the circumstances. Her hair spills over your hands as you thread your fingers through it, pulling lightly to bring her face closer to yours.

Her scent fills your nostrils and invades every pore; it's intoxicating and maddening all at once. The blood coursing through your veins feels hotter now, faster, as if time has stopped entirely around you. You're lost in this moment with her lifeless form, caught in a maelstrom of desire and grief that you can't quite comprehend...

Your fingers trail lightly down her stomach before coming to rest on the bare mound between her legs. She's smooth and slick there, wet with her arousal. It takes all of your self-control not to give into the urge to touch her more; to bury yourself deep inside her warmth one last time. But you know that this is no longer about pleasure or release... it's something else entirely now.

As you take her body, the coldness seeps into yours; it's like she's draining away your life force in exchange for a satiation of needs you didn't know existed. Your movements become less controlled now, more savage and brutal as you lose yourself deeper in this twisted embrace. The room spins around you, the world fading away into a haze of passion and loss...

Her dead flesh feels different than it did when she was alive; cold and rigid beneath your touch, but oddly accommodating to your movements. The heat emanating from your body penetrates her corpse, warming her from the inside out as you thrust into her, fucking her lifeless form with an unnatural vigor.

Her ass muscles clench around you, gripping tightly as if trying to find pleasure even in this final act of desecration. Her breasts bounce freely against your chest, the weight of them slapping rhythmically against your skin in time with your thrusts. The room reeks of sweat and death; a heady mix that only serves to heighten the intensity of your lust.

Her dead eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling as you take her roughly, her limbs flailing weakly against the bed. Her nails scrape harmlessly along your back, leaving lines of pain and pleasure entwined. The sheets beneath her shift and twist, growing damp with sweat and other fluids.

You could stop at any moment; you have control over this situation. You could let her go, return her to the world of the living where she belongs. But as her cold flesh grips you tightly one last time before releasing its hold, you know that there is no going back from this. This act has sealed your fate just as surely as it has ended hers...

Her ass squeezes your length with every powerful thrust, her legs trembling as you push her body to the edge of sanity. Her breasts bob up and down with each forceful movement, nipples brushing against the skin of your chest in a tormenting rhythm that sends sparks dancing behind your eyelids.

You can feel her body tensing up around you, tightening in preparation for the release that's building inside of her. With one final thrust, you groan and arch your back, unloading yourself deep within her warmth. Her flesh gives way under the force, accommodating every inch of you until there's nothing left but the soft velvetiness of her internal muscles clenched tight around your length.

You collapse on top of her, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Your weight pinning her down, reminding both of you that this is not real; she may feel alive beneath you now, but soon enough she'll be gone and you'll still be left with the memories of what happened here ton

Her cold flesh feels lifeless beneath your fingers, but there's an unnerving warmth to it as well; as if she still clings to some vestige of life even in death. You run them softly up and down her body, tracing delicate patterns over her supple skin. Her breasts are firm yet yielding beneath your palms, the nipples already hardening once more from the touch of your fingertips.

Your touch is tender now; loving even. It's as if you're trying to remember what it was like when she was alive, when her body belonged only to you and no one else. The room is silent save for your ragged breathing and the gentle rustling of the sheets beneath you. In this moment, the world outside doesn't exist; there is nothing but the two of you and the memory of what once was...and what could have been.

You close your eyes, feeling tears slip down your cheeks as you finally let go of her, slipping carefully out from between her legs. Her body feels oddly empty now that you're no longer inside it; like a part of you has been left behind. With one last caress to her cheek and another kiss to her forehead, you roll away from her, leaving her cold dead flesh to the mercy of the chill air.

But even as you drift off into an uneasy sleep, the image of her beautiful face lingers at the edge of your vision; a constant reminder of all that you've lost tonight...and all that you stand to lose tomorrow.

Her dead body feels cold and heavy against yours, but strangely comforting as well. As you caress her breasts and run your fingers through her hair, it's easy to forget that she is no longer alive; to imagine that she's still with you, enjoying this brief moment of intimacy before the world wakes up once more. The room fades away into the background, leaving only the two of you together in the dim light, existing in a twisted limbo where death and desire intertwine like tendrils of smoke curling around each other in search of purchase.

As sleep finally claims you, your dreams are filled with images of her: alive and vibrant, laughing and talking as if she were truly connected to the world around her. In these dreams, she feels real; warm and alive beneath your touch. But when you wake up, reality comes crashing down once more, reminding you that she is nothing but a memory now, tainted by what happened between them in this dark room where they were both brought to their ends.

Her breasts remain full and supple under your touch even in death, their weight grounding you as your dreams twist and turn around each other like tendrils of smoke in the dark. It's only when dawn light spills through the cracks in the curtains that you finally wake up, dazed and confused for a moment before reality crashes down around you once more...

The light filtering through the curtains tells you that it's late; perhaps even morning already. With a sigh, you rise from the bed, careful not to disturb her lifeless form too much as you do so. You dress quietly, slipping out of the room and into the early-morning bustle outside before disappearing once more into the anonymity that has always been your armor against the world.