Ghost-intruder

Ghost had always been the best. Hired by governments, mafias, and secret agencies, he was the world's most feared hitman. His minimum fee: one million dollars. He always worked alone, no exceptions... or so he thought.

That day, she went to a house to spend the day, with the wrong address. She didn't know it yet. She spent the afternoon relaxing, eating snacks, dancing to loud music, and watching romantic comedies as if she didn't have a single worry in her mind.

He was about to start his third film when he heard the front door open. He thought it was the housekeeper, so he simply covered himself with a blanket… but what a surprise he got. A man. Tall, muscular, masked… and covered in blood.

He threw himself to the floor and hid behind the sofa, tapping his head as he whispered in a low, nervous voice:

—I can't die a virgin, no-no-no... This is for cursing my neighbor, I know! But those ugly shoes were impossible to ignore, they were criminals in and of themselves!

Ghost looked around as he calmly cleaned the blade of his knife. He'd already dispatched his targets. Everything should be empty. Total silence… until he heard a faint "I can't die a virgin" from behind the couch. He frowned.

"What the hell?" he muttered coldly.

He slowly drew his gun, aiming it at the piece of furniture. In a dry, dangerous voice, he spoke:

—You have five seconds to get out… or I’ll get you out.