Titles are Cliche

[harmony]

It was a cold night. The apartment buildings were lightless, dark. Rick took a smoke out from his pack, and lit it. After he took a couple of puffs he threw it down- his target was in sight. He dicreetly took out his socom pistol and attached his silencer.

"Hey, Mr. Davidson, got a moment?" when he was close enough he slammed the old man against the brick wall and pointed his gun at him.
"Late with a few payments huh? Thats a shame"

"Wait, I'll pay whatever you want, please dont kill me!"

"Sorry, a Hitman, or at least one that wants to live long, never double crosses, goodbye Mr. Davidson." And with that Rick pulled the trigger, ending another life.

 He took out a knife and cut his clothes, then he drageed him over to a dumpster aand rolled him around in it. He left him there, people of New York city would think of him as a bum. He then went to his mercedesbenz and retreived a pale and sponge. He was wearing a jumpsuit, so no one wouls think he was suspicius when he cleaned the trail of blood he left behind. Then he went in his car and drove home.

[Dragoon God]

"Dammit! I cant believe how smart this guy is, this guy is a professional" said police chief Donald Freeman. He was wearing a black shirt and blue blazer, he was in duck pajamas. He was still wearing his slippers. He woke up to a loud  call from some John Peterson, a trashman. He got to the scene only a couple of minutes ago, the whole allyway in red tape.

"Whats the case whos the killer?" Said officer Anthony Grevado. He wore a black shirt with a grey jacket. He had blue jeans on and black timberland boots. "Well? What?"

  "Is that all you have to say? For Christ's sake put on your uniform Grevado!"

 "Sorry if I come off as rude, but when did ducks become a dress code regulation? Look, tell me what I need to know or I'll get my contacts..."

 "No more of your contacts alright! I dont need any more head aches from the Yakuzas!"
 
 "I already told you they only deal with casinos, and some times they get offers they refuse. I dont accociate with criminals, god I'm a cop." Donald gave him a pissed off look before he motioned for him to follow. "A trash man named John Peterson found the body of Gerald Davidson in the trash early this morning, he was shot once with an unknown gun about two hours before we came to the scene." he said.

  "Was Peterson questioned?" Anthony asked.

 "Yeah, his story checks out too, and there wasnt even a sign of a struggle, but the worst  part is.... well you know what tell me, what does the late Mr. Davidson look like to you?" asked Donald.

 "He looks like a bum, so the question I ask is why would someone waste a bullet, right?" at this Anthony gave him a sly smile.

 "Wrong" said Donald, now taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes "Our records show he is the storage clerk at the Townsend Bank. And he recently acuired some fortune, but when we checked his house it was in tact, notrhing missing."

"Can I see the bullet?" asked Anthony.

"Sure" Donald reached into his pocket and took out a blood smeared bag, handing it to Anthony. "Be careful its our only... Hey what the hell are you doing!?" he yelled as Anthony took out the bullet to inspect it.

"Its a socom bullet, silenced pistol, get one of those blood light things and ckeck around thescene, I'll be back."

 Where the hell do you think your going, get you ass back here Grevados!" yelled Donald.

 "I'm getting in touch with my contacts, okay?"