Scissor Seven Assassin Instant

The old man laughed—a wheezy, smoker’s laugh. Then he stopped. “Do it quick. My back hurts anyway.”

From the alley, three real assassins emerged—masked, silent, hired by the pill smugglers to finish the job Seven wouldn’t. scissor seven assassin

The target’s name was Old Chen, a retired noodle vendor who had witnessed something he shouldn’t have: a shadow trade of illegal chi-enhancement pills beneath the floating pier of Chicken Island. The old man laughed—a wheezy, smoker’s laugh

He threw a scissor blade like a boomerang. It sliced the first assassin’s gun in half. The second lunged—Seven spun, kicked a trash can lid into his face, then used the second scissor blade to pin the third’s sleeve to a wooden crate. My back hurts anyway

Old Chen patted Seven’s shoulder. “I’ll teach you to make proper wonton soup. As thanks.”