I was sitting in the rain, watching the hotel across the street. My mark was in there. All I had to do was bide my time. I got the occasional dirty looks, my kind always does.
This part of the city was too good for my kind, but I did like all the other ones of my kind did that couldn't find a job, I looked like a beggar. There were a lot of them like me, all hybrids, the new lowest class.
Hell 20 years earlier we weren't even recognized as human. Sure we were part human part whatever, but I guess since we were basically created, that made us less than human. Some that was way to smart for his own good, and way to little common sense and way too much time on his hands started thinking, with the wars we are having, it's not good to keep killing our people, so lets create some.
As a rat, my type was one of the first ones, small gestation period, lesser maturation time before I was a viable asset. Naturally quick, somewhat intelligent, smaller so less overhead to take care of. We were the first created shock troops. This was before my time but I remember the stories. Of course you won't find them in any history book. Officially we were an expirement for advancing the intelligence of lesser creature. Since genetic manipulation was outlawed in humans, animals of course were there to satisfy their curiosity.
For years hundreds of the first of my kind all lived in underground facilities, trained to be killers from the start. We didn't have souls, how could we were created to be killers. We learned to be killers, there was nothing else to do ... eat, excersize, train, train, train, sleep. We even needed less sleep, since we really don't live as long so there wouldn't really be any old age for us. They really didn't expect us to live that long anyway. We were the grunts, fodder to occupy troops until the real army showed up. We were quicker than normal troops, generally a better shot as well.
We were of course resented, even though I wonder how, they didn't give leave to our kind, no weekend relaxation, combat after combat after combat. Send us out till we die, then bring in the next round. Good thing we didn't have souls or someone would have to feel bad about all of the dieing we did. Nope none of that ... of course those of us that were good at our jobs, some of us snapped. There is only so much someone can take before they go crazy. How many times do you have to get sent out to die, come back and be sent out again before you snap. Seems around 25. Or at least that was the average amount of missions they finally calculated. We didn't really have names, just positions in the squad. One goes down, someone else comes in to take their place. Then you go out again.
A couple of the other hybrids here my mumbling about the past and give me their own dirty looks. I know they all have problems of their own. We all have our own little stories to tell, what our fathers, or grandfathers, or someone told us. The real truth not what they use to tell the masses that don't want to get their hands dirty.
I see some movement from the curtains of the room he is supposed to be in. One good this about being a rat, is noone ever notices you. They don't want to make eye contact, so you can hide pretty good in plain sight.
I signal for my crew to keep a heads up, that way we can get out of here fast, they already have all of the street cams hacked and feeding it a time lapsed photo of what is going on,, all digitally filtered with all of us out of the picture of course. The client wants this dirty. That means I get dirty too, blood is so hard to clean out of clothes, good thing these will just get burned. They are a bit smelly too. I know after this a long hot shower will feel nice.
My mark comes out of the hotel, I make my way over, still looking like I want a handout. Not like I would even want one for this puke. His kind make me sick ... anything illegal, they have a piece of it, after treatment hybridization, slavery, drugs, everything. Any vice you have they have.
I wander up to him, his two body guards coming up to intercept me. Two seconds later, two dead body guards. Noone hears a thing they just start to slump, he notices. He uses his date for the evening as a shield. Looking at the top of buildings, all around him, still ignoring what is in plain sight. I quickly sneak around back of him. Pull my large caliper ballistic out, bam right in the back of the head.
People start screaming, blood and brain bits everywhere. One less slug on the streets, though within minutes someone will fill his void. I don't care, I hit my mark, made my money. Now to make my way in the confusion to the van and get the heck outta here.