What do you do when you’re a hit man … who’s terrible at his job?

At first, I thought it would be an easy payday. A few pew pews for bad people, a couple of suitcases of cash for me. People have done worse for an honest living. Probably.

The problem is that after a couple of jobs, I’ve never actually managed to unalive someone, and not for lack of trying. Apparently, a basic requirement of a hitman is being a good shot.

Despite my constant duck-ups—that my boss knows nothing about—I’m given another name, and I very nearly follow through. Only after obliterating this guy’s ear and his fervent pleading to spare him, I’ve sent him into hiding and collected the cash anyway.

But wanted people are hard to hide, and bad guys don’t like paying big money for loose ends.

Now that Van Gogh has shown his face again—sans ear—I’ve scammed my way into his security team, which is sort of ideal since I’m now highly wanted as well.

Unfortunately, we have some “trust issues” to “work through” from our meet-shoot, and with the gorgeous bastard’s brother missing, he refuses to lay low until they’re reunited.

I’m not sold on the plan, honestly, but this guy has me questioning my sexuality along with my career path, and I’m at the point where I’m determined to see a job through to the end. Or die trying. But hey, at least then I’d finally deliver a body.