It had been an hour since Norman entered the pub.
By now, he had already downed five mugs of beer. Two women were kissing him all over while a third woman was under the table, engaging in who-knows-what with him.
This was it. The moment of reckoning. Norman had finally let his guard down.
Leader rose from her seat, and I followed suit. We readied our daggers to strike. Norman's back was turned to us, so without him noticing, we could approach unnoticed. I utilized my Stealth skill, and Leader, a battle-hardened veteran, could make her presence disappear.
Silently, we crept toward him. Even the patrons around us remained oblivious to our approach. We could do it. We could end Norman's life. It might spark a war between the Black Market and us, but the consequences seemed inconsequential in this moment.
Time seemed to slow as we closed in. My hand, clutching the dagger, trembled ever so slightly. In my mind, I replayed the memory.
