Third Person's POV
The smell of smoke and alcohol filled his nostrils. Music blared loudly in his ears as he passed through the crowd of people dancing and grinding against each other. He held his breath, reaching out for his gun, putting his guard up.
Soon enough, he reached the rooms where moans of pleasure were heard. It didn't disgust him. It was the kind of environment he was living in. Upon reaching the first door, he kicked it open, seeing a naked woman on top of a drunk man. But it wasn't who he was looking for. His gun was pointed towards the terrified people. He locked his jaw, putting his index finger up to his lips as a sign of silence. They nodded, not wanting to be killed on the spot. With satisfaction, he proceeded on the next door. And on the next. And on the next. Until he found who he was looking for.
"Roberts," he greeted with a smirk, holding out his gun. He then diverted his gaze on a brunette. "Got some, I see?"
Roberts' face drained with color, his palms sweaty upon the sight of the him. The man he was avoiding all along.
"B-Bieber," he stuttered, his lips trembling.
"Good to know you still recognize me Roberts."
"Shhhh," Justin hushed, an evil smirk forming his lips. "Now we don't want this eye-candy to know, do we?" he said, referring to the prostitute, laying scared and naked on the bed.
"Wanna go with him to hell, baby?" he teased, tilting his head to the side. The poor woman shook her head violently, tears engulfing her eyes and her body shaking with fear.
"N-no, please..." she choked out.
"Get outta here," he demanded coldly. The woman obeyed without a word and quickly slid on her clothes to cover her exposed body and ran for the exit. Justin watched her leave before diverting his attention back to Roberts, his eyes dark and scary. He slowly took a step forward, locking the door with his free hand before an evil smirk came back to his lips.
"Now let's get back to business, shall we?"
"N-no. Please. I-I'll pay you..."the poor man pleaded, his back pressed on the headrest.
"I believe I gave you enough time Roberts," Justin declined, stepping closer. "Give me the money and I'll let you live..."
"I-I don't have the money... J-Just give me more time... I promise I'll pay you!"
"You don't think I'm that stupid right?" Justin scoffed. "You wouldn't be here giving yourself pleasure if you don't have the damn money."
He was now pointing the gun on Roberts' head, ready to pull the trigger, "This isn't a game Roberts," he whispered, clearly whilst Roberts shook in fear. "And if it is, you're not the one playing it. I am."
"P-please..." Roberts begged, his voice fading. Justin chuckled and shook his head.
"That's not how it works, Roberts."
With that, he didn't hesitate to pull the trigger - putting the bullet straight into Roberts' head. Blood splatting in the process and the gunshot erupted the whole area. But he didn't stop there.
"That was one. Head," he said then lowered the gun then fired again. "Two, neck," then he lowered it more before firing the third time, "Lastly, chest."
With satisfaction as he saw his target dead and swimming in his own pool of his blood, he hid his gun and pulled out his phone, dialing a number.
"I'm done here," he mumbled before hanging up and stuffing his phone back to his jean pocket. He then casually went out of the room, his hands on both pockets as he casually passed through hordes of people, earning stares of fear from everyone who had heard the commotion - not to mention Roberts' specks of blood on his shirt.
He was Justin Bieber. A killing machine everyone feared and hunted by the police for years.
Meanwhile, a normal girl was on their couch at home, her father beside her as they watched the television with interest. The news was on, and the headlines earned her full attention.
Local gangster - Justin Bieber - has yet attacked. The young targeteer was said to be in a club where the murder of Greg Roberts had been done. According to a few source, Bieber had let a prostitute escape which only meant that his only target was Roberts. Reasons onto why are currently beyond us and the police force are currently in search for the well-known criminal. Stay tuned for more.
"That kid just never stops," her father remarked as he took the last sip of his coffee. She just gazed at him, unresponsive. She always heard her father talk about the so-called gangster, and she didn't know what to say anymore.
Mr. Cross stood up, grabbing his car keys on the table and looked over his daughter, "I gotta go, sweetheart. Duty calls," he said smiling, walking over to Reign and kissed the top of her head.
"Okay. Be careful, daddy," she smiled back, wrapping her arms around her dad.
"I will, sweetie. Lock the doors, alright? I'll be back maybe tomorrow. Call me if anything happens," he stated, earning a "Yes dad," from her before pulling away from the hug.
"Love you kiddo."
"Love you, Dad."
With that, her father left. She was alone. She wasn't scared in the tiniest bit though. She was used to it. Ever since her mom died she was always left alone in the house while her dad worked. What scared her somehow was the fact that her father was a police man. He could be dead while chasing criminals. But she had set her mind on the positive ground.
Running up to her room before she made sure to lock every entrances of the house, she hopped on her bed, the silence of the room hugging her. Her life sure was boring. She couldn't help but how that criminal felt about his life. How Justin felt about his life. Was it boring, too? Or was he happy?
She heaved out a sigh, shaking her head to get rid of the thoughts about him. She couldn't seem to understand - but she never felt hatred towards him. Eventhough he was a killer, something inside her just filled with interest. She didn't even know why.