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Without any further delay, I am pleased to announce that I have begun writing the beginning of my next fanfiction, one I hope with be one of my best works yet: Balto: Assassins. Hopefully the site won't mess up my formatting like it did with my last fanfiction, but that's a matter to worry about later. Hope you enjoy this one!


Since the beginnings of history, they have been amongst us. They look and act like us, but they are different than us. They know more, learn more, observe more, fight more. Kill more. Soldiers to the highest bidder, guns-for-hire, they walk the streets average people until a job arrives with a high enough pay. They are assassins. Quick, stealthy, lethal pecision killers who care for nothing but their own personal gain. They will stop at nothing from completing a job, taking whatever risks they can, for their job alone puts their life on the line every single day. Their world is one of deadly competition, violent sessions of cat-and-mouse, and who lives and who dies depends on how many bullets they have in their gun and how fast they can pull the trigger.

Such is the life of an assassin.

* * *
Prologue

Mexico City, 2000

The bustling daily activity of the city down below went on as it usually did. Children played in the streets, adults went around buying or selling their wares, cars carried businessmen to their offices. The bright sun burned from overhead, veiling the large city in a nearly unbearable heat. But those who had lived here were used to it - as well as those trained to handle it at any cost. From up on the top level of a small motel sat a young, scruffy gray-brown wolfdog, goold and brown eyes dead-set on one of the many city squares he had in view below. His eyes were focused like steel on the doors of a large stone building. The First National Bank of Mexico City. Pulling a chair up to the windowsill, the wolfdog sat, and waited - waiting for the opportune moment.

The day went by, the sun merciless to everyone who occupied the busy metropolis. Sweat dripped down the wolfdog's forehead, his mind begging him to stop this, to grab a drink and relax, but he couldn't. Not when he had a job to do. So, despite rational logic, he sat in the sunlight, unmoving for anything, eyes locked on the glass dors that marked the entrance to the bank. He produced a pair of binoculars from a bag at his side, glancing as a dog left the bank. No, it wasn't him. With a sigh of discouragement, he went back to waiting.

As the hours passed, more and more dogs came into the bank and left the bank, but none of them were the one he wanted to walk out those doors. Finally, as the sun had begun to set and the bank was closing for the night, he saw a dog walking out of the bank. As he'd been doing all day, the binoculars came up to his eyes and moved over the figure. It was a Labrador Retriever, dressed in a light gray business suit and holding a black leather-bound briefcase. A grin slowly appeared on the wolfdog's face as he set the binoculars down and reached to the right of the window, grabbing a sniper rifle. He pulled the slide back and placed a single copper bullet into the chamber, sliding it closed and taking aim. Rifle held safely and steadily, he made slow, easy movements as he attempted to get the dog in his sights.

After a couple moments of trying, he had him. Sights lined right up to the Labrador's chest, right where his heart was. Time seemed to freeze for the young wolfdog, the only sound filling his head was the pounding of his own heartbeat. He had to do this. But he couldn't... could he? Yes, he had to; it would make all the difference! It took him a second of debate before he reacted on his own, taking one last careful second to aim before squeezing the trigger. The sound of a single gunshot filled the air and he watched with grim satisfaction as his target gripped his chest and fell back onto the cobblestone ground, ceasing all movement. Civilians around him screamed and darted for cover. "Time to go..." the wolfdog whispered to himself, dropping his rifle out the window and into a nearby alley. He grabbed his binoculars and a pair of suitcases before rushing out of the motel and into the alley.

The wolfdog collected his fallen rifle and walked casually down the alley. His car was a block away and the kill had been made. His job had been completed.



Chapter 1 coming soon.

*Italian accent* Ver' nice. I like.
You've gotten my attention on this one. Clever introduction. It's good to read minds sometimes.

Keep it coming.
-LWf

My attention was caught on this at the start! Great introduction! Prologues make every story better! Keep up the good work.

Ohhhh, I am definatley reading this as soon as you are done. I can't wait until its finished, I am dying to read it now. Good job!

That was amazing! I'm really starting to like how this is turning out! Keep up the good work! ^_^

My apologies to everyone waiting on an update to this fanfic. I have the entire work saved onto my laptop and I'm currently visiting my family in England. Since the outlets are different, I can't plug my laptop in to charge over here, so I'm over in another country with a dead laptop with all of my current work of Balto: Assassins on it. To top it all off, I forgot to pack my adapter so I could charge it. *slaps his forehead* My Dad's gonna mail it over to me, so i should have an update to this within a week. Again, I apologize for the wait.

-- Balto5670

Sounds good, keep it going

Well, I got my adapter, so I'm back to writing Balto: Assassins! And here's another update: the first part of Chapter 1!



Chapter 1




Philadelphia, May 14th 2007 - 11:00 PM




The backlight of a laptop flicked to life as it began to boot itself up. Outside the rain continued to fall in a heavy downpour, the sound of rolling thunder heard clearly overhead. A flash of lightning illuminated the hotel room, casting everything in a bright blue light. The figure of a dog stood silhouetted at the window, gold and brown eyes watching as the rain hit the window and slid down to the streets thirteen floors below. He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through the gray-brown fur on his head, reminiscing to himself of the years gone by. His memories were interrupted by a high-pitched bling as the computer started up, drawing the dog’s attention from the city to his laptop.

His face was now more clearly visible as he sat down at the desk in his hotel room, his face lit up by his computer screen. Traces of Husky were visible in him, but the overall appearance was quite lupine: a wolfdog. Opening up a program, a green screen overtook his background, a box asking for a login name and password. The wolfdog sighed softly before running his fingers across the necessary keys.

Login: Balto
Password: *******

A single line of text welcomed him and almost immediately afterward, four options appeared: Communicate, Rankings, Bounties, and Completed. Balto moved his cursor over the Communicate tab and double-clicked it, opening the secure IMing system between him and the contractors who had personally selected him. But then again, it wasn’t too surprising that they contacted him with the most-paying jobs. Another window opened up on his screen, a single username joining his: his most frequent contractor, a dog going by the alias of Lead Dog. Almost instantly, another window opened, a conversation between him and Lead Dog.

“Good to see you again, Balto.”

“You may not see me here for much longer.”

“Still planning on retiring from the business, huh?”

“You’d better believe it…” Balto whispered to himself, replying with the exact same words.

“I’m sorry to hear that. You’re the best out there.”

“I know I am… Why do you think I want out?” he whispered again, instead responding with, “I know. The second best will have to take my place.”

“Still a shame to lose the best… Anyway, I have another job for you, perhaps you might be interested in it.”

“Forget it, I want out…” Balto muttered, hesitating before replying.

“What’s the objective and pay?”

“Eliminate the mark, worth is $100,000.”

“$100,000…” Balto said to himself, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling for a while, “$100,000… $100,000 and I’m outta here…”

“Who’s the mark?”

“He’s a police officer to the Miami Police Department. His name is Troy Vikedal.”

“Send me a recent picture of him and I’ll take care of him.”

Balto sighed softly as he waited for a visual of his next target. He didn’t care what this dog did nor if he even did anything, so long as he got paid at the end of this. That was one of the major things about being an assassin: you don’t ask many questions and you and your contractor usually get along just fine. Within a handful of seconds, a color photo of a Golden Retriever came up, dressed in a navy-blue officer’s uniform. Balto’s eyes scanned over the dog, taking in every little detail, especially the dog’s dark brown eyes. One way Balto had always identified a mark was by their eyes. After several long moments of looking the photo over, he nodded slowly to himself.

“I’m on it.”

With that, Balto logged out, still staring at the photograph of the dog he’d just been hired to kill. Thoughts swam through his mind as his eyes locked with the light green eyes of the Golden Retriever, neither remorse nor doubt any one of those thoughts that occupied his head. The only thing he was concerned about was how to find the mark, how to get to the mark, and how to retire the mark without getting alerted himself. It would be easy – all too easy…

With a deep breath followed by a heavy sigh, Balto stood up. He’d been in this business for eight long years, ducking for his life while taking his enemies’, shooting others he didn’t know or even care to get to know, never staying in one place, always rooming in hotels for however long he needed to be there. That was his life and he was about ready to give it all up. It was such a thrill to always be living life biting the bullet, but he had a sick feeling that if he kept living like this, one day he wouldn’t be living this life anymore, period. He just wanted a life of leisure, and with this next job completed he’d finally have enough money to keep himself set for life. All he needed to do was complete this next job without any blunders, mistakes, or interruptions and $100,000 would be all his.

Balto walked slowly around his hotel room, mind far away as he listened to the rain hitting the window. As if he were running on routine alone, he walked over to one of his two suitcases and opened it up, pulling from it a shiny, well-cared-for handgun, polished and primed for its next use. The wolfdog looked over his gun, sighing softly as he replaced it back into his suitcase and went back to his laptop, bringing up an Internet page to start searching for the soonest flight to Miami, Florida.




Seattle, Washington - 8:30 PM




Two silenced gunshots broke the silence that filled the offices of one of the many buildings that made up the city of Seattle. A light-gray and white coated Husky came bolting through a door of the office building and dashed down the halls as fast as he could, panting heavily as he hung a sharp right around a corner and kept going, glancing back every so often for his pursuer. He could hear the footfalls behind him growing louder and louder, whimpering softly in fright to himself as he took another right – and came face-to-face with a wall; a dead-end in the hallway. He could hear the other dog behind hi getting closer and as the figure rounded the corner, the Husky reached into his jacket and pulled out a Desert Eagle, firing three times at the dog, each shot missing due to his trembling hands.

The Husky whimpered again and glanced left and right, direly searching for a way out. He yelped with joy as he saw a doorway to his left, pushing it open and running through whosever office it was. He rushed through to the other side and pushed the other door open before slamming it closed behind him and running down the hallway about halfway and pushing into another office, closing and locking the door behind him. He jumped over the desk and crouched behind it, chest rising and falling rapidly as he panted and whimpered softly. Who the hell is this dog? Why is he after me?! he thought to himself, clutching his handgun tightly.

Out in the hallway, the other dog pushed open the door – and stared straight out at the empty hallway. A low growl of anger and frustration escaped his throat as he slowly walked down the hall, pistol gripped firmly in his hand. His ice-blue eyes scanned the dark hallways, optics narrowed as his gaze searched for the location of his mark. He came to the first door closest to him and opened it, flicking on the lights and scanning around. No one. He moved on to the next door, repeating the same actions and finding no one again. He came to the third door and tried the handle, only to find it locked. From within he heard a soft whimper, a grin spreading across his muzzle.

The Husky inside the office glanced up over the desk, spotting the silhouetted figure at the door through the glass. Before he could wonder what the dog was doing, another silenced handgun shot was heard followed by the sound of breaking metal – and the dog’s heart froze. Slowly, the other canine pushed the door open slightly, only his head and weapon coming through the doorway. The Husky, in a fit of terror, shot up and fired at the door, then again, and again, and again, and then his gun went empty. He whimpered in fear as the door opened and the lights came on, illuminating the room as well as his killer.

The dog looked like what he did was physically demanding, almost as if he were a cop or a US Marine or something that involved a lot of physical work. His ice-blue eyes stood out against his black and white coat and he was definitely a Husky as well. He didn’t wear a uniform or anything, just street clothes: a white shirt, black jacket, a pair of jeans, and boots. But there was an air about him that made him seem different, almost unique in what he was doing.

The white Husky whimpered again and dropped his gun, his whole body shaking as the other dog approached him and grabbed him by the throat, pulling him over the desk and dropping him to the floor in front of him.

“W-wait! Please! Don’t do this!” the dog whimpered desperately, “I-I didn’t do anything! I swear! There’s no need to kill me! P-please! I’ll do anything! Anything!” The black and white Husky just smirked and shook his head slowly.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard those words?” he asked, his voice almost a dark chuckle as he spoke, showing he didn’t care what he was doing, “Do yourself a favor and stop the whimpering… It’s getting on my nerves… Besides, it’s my job…”

“J-job?!” the white Husky asked, his voice raising to a near-squeal of fright, “I-if it’s money you want, I-I’ll pay you, please!” This sent the other dog into a fit of laughter.

“You’ll pay me? Listen buddy, your entire year’s salary isn’t even half of what I’m about to get! You’re a bounty, and I’m about to get my reward…” he said, pulling the hammer back on his silver handgun and leveling it with the white canine’s forehead.

“Wait! I’m worth more if I’m captured alive, right?” he asked, hoping for even the slightest chance at keeping his life.

“You’re worth enough dead…” the black and white dog replied before pulling the trigger, silencing the other Husky’s whining and whimpering permanently. He turned and walked out of the office, shutting off the lights and closing the door on his way out.




Twenty minutes later saw the Husky back in his hotel room, sitting on his bed with his laptop. He ejected the clip from his handgun and began to reload it as his computer started up, replacing the couple bullets he’d used to kill his latest mark. A handful of seconds later his computer was up and running, the dog selecting a program and bringing up a green screen asking for a login name and password. With a small smile, the Husky began to enter his information.

Name: Steele
Password: ********

He didn’t need to even look over the four options to choose from, almost immediately double-clicking on the Communicate tab. Sure enough, his contractor was online, just like he said he would be to claim his reward. It was funny, because most contractors used their real names, but this one, his highest-paying and most-frequently used contractor went by the alias of ‘Lead Dog’. But Steele really didn’t care who he was, so long as he got paid in the end. A chat window opened between him and Lead Dog and he knew it was time for his payment and his next job.

“Did you retire the mark?”

Steele smirked and chuckled softly. “The mark has been eliminated. The objective completed.”

“Excellent work Steele. How would you like the money this time?”

“Through a bank transfer as usual. The First National Bank of Seattle.”

“It will be waiting for you tomorrow morning, Steele. Are you up for another job?”

Steele grinned and chuckled again, nodding slowly to himself. “I’m always ready for another job. Who’s the mark and what’s the reward?”

“Always straight to business, huh Steele? That’s what I like about you. The mark’s name is Troy Vikedal, a police officer of the Miami Police Department. The reward for this dog is $100,000.”

Steele felt his grin widen as his blue eyes ran across the amount of his reward. He let out another chuckle, sighing softly before going back to his keys. “Do you have a picture of him?”

Within moments a color picture of a Golden Retriever in a navy-blue police uniform. Steele instinctively reached for his gun, his fingers tracing over the trigger, then across the slide before settling back at his side. He sighed, typing in “I’ll do it,” and exiting the Communicate section. His eyes settled upon the four tabs, staying locked on one specific one. Rankings. After several moments of reluctant thought, he sighed and double-clicked on it. His screen changed again, a long list of names appearing in order from the best assassins to the worst ones. The list had changed a bit since he’d last checked it, some assassins going up in rank, some going down, and some coming up as Deceased. He scoffed at the ones who died; how anyone could be so careless as to get killed was beyond him – well, unless they were killed by other assassins, which wasn’t all that rare.

His eyes moved up to the top of the list, spotting his name at #2. And just above him was a name that had been there for seven years. Balto. He growled lowly as he stared at the name of his rival. Ever since Balto had taken the #1 spot, Steele had wanted to best him, to come up on top of all the others, but every time he caught up with the wolfdog, he’d always manage to get away alive.

“One of these days, Balto, you’ll have nowhere else to run… And that’s when I’ll finally get you…” he said quietly, glaring at that one single name. But he had little time to dwell on the thought of killing his enemy. He had to get the soonest flight down to Florida before anyone else was offered his bounty.

Great chapter! Both Steele and Balto are assassins but the black white husky wants the #1 spot. Both have the same boss, both have the same target, going to the same place. This is gonna be interesting! I can't wait to see how this plays out! Well done on this. Update soon and have fun writing!

This is great stuff! I turned on Metal Church's "Hitman" while reading it; that was pretty cool. I'm grooving on the storyline, 2 assassins, the same mysterious boss and the same target. Ooo, I can't wait for more! Don't keep us waiting now!

This is quite intriguing!
A fight for the top slot on the list of Assassins. Kinda funny to me.

Keep this up!
-LWf

Funny, huh? Well I guess it kinda is, but I can't wait to see how you'll react to what happens when the two competing assassins come face-to-face. And that's nothign compared to the rest of the fanfiction that I have planned out! Haha, I'm evil. Still, thanks for the good reviews so far! I really am hoping this will be one to compete with Balto: Espionage Tactics!

-- Balto5670

This is gonna be good, I can tell.