****(POV)

In a small Inn room, a man held his head in distress with his back slumped in a black office chair. This man was referred to as Number 3 by his peers and was currently having a breakdown. 

Where had everything gone wrong? He had no clue, none at all! Was it the job itself? The task had been extremely dangerous, but they should have succeeded. No, it was all that man's fault! 

What was he supposed to do now? Number 2 had died while Number 1 and Number 4 had been apprehended. Then again, they were supposed to take him as a hostage, not try to kill him! A rescue was out of the question, and so was completing the task. 

Number 3 sighed so profoundly that his soul almost escaped his body. Perhaps this had been a monumental mistake since the very beginning. 

They should never have set their sights on the target of an Eternal Bounty. These contracts were already entirely prepaid by the clients and would only be taken down when the victim breathed its last. 

Any killer could work on these. Whoever brought proof of the target's demise would be entitled to the reward. Well, it was more like THE reward with how many credits were involved. Hundreds of thousands of Credits were to them an enormous sum. 

This time their mark had been the leader of Metropolis-D, Markus. He was an unbelievably strong man. So strong that even if they took him by surprise under the best conditions, they would probably all die. 

Even if they did manage to murder him, what was the point if they were just going to get captured afterward? Credits were useless if one couldn't spend them. That's why they stayed far away from such targets…usually. 

With the Tower coming into existence, the league of assassins had to adapt so much in a short period. Then, once one factored in the need for secrecy, they had to close shop temporarily. 

As professional killers, their team had been thus left jobless, condemned to twirl their thumbs in boredom day after day. This, coupled with the lack of income, made it difficult for the other members of Number 3's team. 

For an assassin, taking random contracts carried too much risk. It was a huge waste of time. Without the Assassin's League acting as a guarantor, business was close to impossible. The trade of death was a troublesome one after all.

That's why they rejoiced when the Assassin's guild reopened. They choked a middle-aged lady to death in the morning, then repeatedly stabbed an old man, and finally went for lunch. Then afterward, they learned a piece of wonderful news:

There was an opportunity that was just too good to pass on. Markus was having a drinking contest in a public area with insanely loud music playing. This was the perfect diversion, and he would never be more vulnerable than at that moment! 

That is how began the operation "Dead Drunk!". Taking down such a powerhouse would be so satisfying and would bring them great wealth. What more could one want! The plan had been simple:

- Number 1 was in charge of dealing with the U-Bots. 

- Number 4 had the mission to distract any guard while creating a small window of opportunity. 

- Number 2 would use his camouflage suit and invisibility skill to sneak in, kill Markus and head out. 

It was expected to be challenging, but they had enough experience to pull it off, or so they thought. They stopped being confident the moment the man suddenly killed number 2. 

It had been as if he could see him as clear as day. Perhaps it had even been a trap all along. Were they even the intended targets? Perhaps they were only unlucky small fishes caught in a much bigger net. 

Number 3 felt his nails dig into his skin as he recalled his lost or soon-to-be-lost teammates. Number 2 and his love of thrills. Number 1 and her greed. Finally, number 4 with his do-or-die personality. 

Even the ones that were still living would end up in the Black Keep until their death. Either that or they would become slaves for the MTA. They were low-key about it, but it was an open secret. 

He finally rose up and groggily headed to take a shower. At least he was safe. His team didn't know where he was, their communication tools were untraceable, and they knew nothing about him. Well, apart from his nickname of cautious Number 3, a nickname he had failed. 

Number 3 activated the hot water and relished in the warmth that was enveloping him. That's when he decided to let go. Let go of the identity of Number 3. Let go of the distress and let all of it out. Afterward, he felt so peaceful. 

This previous party could be compared to a water droplet from his showerhead. It was born from his actions, had shared all the energy it had to offer, and then had disappeared down the drain forever. 

He exited the bathroom, a towel around his waist. He felt alive once again as if the previous him had been a lie. Now that he had relinquished the identity of number 3, who should he be?

That's when he heard a knock at the door. 

*Knock Knock* 

At first, he ignored it, but then it kept going relentlessly. Playing dumb any longer would attract unwanted attention, so he went to open it. There stood….what was that?! 

In front of his door, a man was wearing a silly costume. Actually, he only wore the head of a mascot for some reason, one that was in the shape of a burger. 

"What is it?" He suspiciously asked, mimicking the reaction of a regular civilian. 

The mascot went: "I'm looking for a friend of mine. He told me he was staying at this Inn. Have you seen him by any chance?"

"I just arrived, sorry." He went to close the door, but the man placed his foot inside. "Hear me out, can I show you his photo? If you see him, just tell him to meet me at the usual spot!" 

"Sure, whatever." He nonchalantly replied. 

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and this one was worth a thousand alarm bells that rang in his mind. He had just realized that this was an image of Number 4 when a wave of pain crushed his mind. 

That's when the world went dark...

****

Pain, so much pain! 

He felt as if his entire head was about to split apart. But then it became worse as he remembered what had happened. 

He struggled to look around, but he was blindfolded and tied up. He tried to summon a weapon, but he couldn't. Whoever had captured him even had anti-Climber handcuffs. 

The more he thought about it, and the weirder this seemed. There was no way this freak was part of the MTA! No! The picture was definitely from the earlier incident. This meant that this Burger-Man was one traveling with the EDM Fleet. 

Was this all about their failed attempt on Markus? For some reason, he felt that he wasn't anywhere near an official building. Was this a private vendetta? How could he turn things around?

That is when a derisive voice sounded. "You guys really screwed up, you know that? Now, we're going to have a very long and fun talk."

As if this was sufficient to scare him! As for getting out of there he already had a plan. He would play meek, somehow convince the man to remove the magical handcuffs, and then he would strike!...

Creator's Thought

What would you do if Burger-Man showed up at your place to settle a grudge? The answer is nothing, cause you're already dead! Jokes aside, I had to do 20 rooms before I finally found the right guy. The killing intent had just given me a vague direction and his reaction to the picture gave him away.