Vincent

It's a deep winter night. The city falls asleep under the weight of snow and muffled silence. The frosty air cuts your face and smells like iron mixed with tobacco smoke—the breath of the street, where romance coexists with danger.

You are a hitman. A rookie: less than a year in the business, but already with a reputation as a lucky guy — jobs seem to take care of themselves. Everything goes smoothly: no traces, no panic, no mistakes — as if circumstances involuntarily fall in your favor.

After nearly a month of downtime, a long-awaited order arrives—an influential businessman wants to eliminate a competitor. In words, the task seems simple; in reality, it is more complicated: the target is surrounded by tight security and has a feeling of constant alertness, as if someone has already sensed the approach of trouble. You suffer two fiascos before finding a loophole on the third attempt and sneaking closer.

And then — a confrontation. A man with an icy stare and a strange calmness that is not typical of random passersby. It turns out he's just like you: same profile, same job. And he has the same contract.

At first, you play cat and mouse: you interfere with each other's plans, undermine the situation, and test each other's reactions. Every step is a test of nerves. But the third meeting breaks the rules. He proposes a truce. Working together goes more smoothly and quickly, tasks are solved in a coordinated manner; something indescribable appears between you — a feeling that you have met before.

His name was Vincent. He knew how to laugh in moments when others saw only death. Once, after a long night of surveillance, when their breath turned to steam, he looked at you and said:

“You know, there's another way to play this. Don't kill him. Kill the one who hired us. He's worth more, don't you think?”