BlackPup

Did you know Deathstalker ? It's a yellow scorpion that is considered to be one of the most deadly species. What if the Deathstalker is a human ? 

Scott Bennet one day woke up with nothing left in his brain, except for self defense and the art of.. killing people. Forced by situation, he finally decided to become an assassin. More than four years later, after gor into an accident that nearly kill him, something's wrong with him. His brain works faster and he is healed faster, too. Beside that new capability, he also finally found out about his past. Unfortunately, his past is not a good news for him. And worse, his past is demanding to be back as his present. Can he avoid his past and lives his new life ?

This is not a reincarnate novel, or Therianthrophy (myth of human shapeshifting into animal). This novel is merely a story about a guy who lost all his past memories and while finding out who he really is, he realizes that the best job he can do is killing people.

The Death Stalker

"Must you go?" Jennifer asks, her voice laced with visible reluctance.

I kiss her forehead softly. "Yes, I must, Baby," I reply gently. "There are some important things I left behind in NY that I need to take care of."

"You know…" I glance briefly at Mrs. Barney, who just entered our room to put Sophie back in her crib. "Weapons, fake documents…" I whisper low enough for only Jennifer to hear. "They all need to be cleaned up before I can sell the apartment."

"Okay…" Jennifer sighs with a little pout.

I grin and kiss her lips quickly. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Tomorrow morning at the latest," I answer, sliding on my leather jacket.

Just then, the front door opens. Peter's head pops in front of our bedroom.

"Hi, Jen… Hey, Buddy," he greets us cheerfully. "I'll wash up and change real quick, alright?"

I walk over to her one last time. "Don't let him get on my side of the bed," I joke.

"Hmmm… it depends," Jennifer teases back.

"Depends on what?" I raise an eyebrow.

She straightens her back, wraps her arms around my neck, and whispers with a sly grin, "How cold the weather gets…"

Jennifer kisses me softly. "The longer you're gone, the colder it gets…"

I return her kiss. "And this is why I'm very reluctant to leave…"

"That's good," she whispers, then pulls me in for another deeper kiss.

"Ahem."A not-so-subtle cough forces us apart.

"Your taxi is here," Peter says from the doorway.

I steal one last kiss. "I'll be back quick, okay?"

I head out of the room, backpack slung over my shoulder.

"This is the watch that monitors her heart rate," I tell Peter, handing over the device I usually wear. I let out a sigh. "Thanks for helping."

Peter pats my shoulder. "Don't mention it, Buddy. She's my best friend. Watching over her is the least I can do."

I nod, put on my mask, and head outside to the waiting taxi.

I've been standing behind a large tree near a ten-story building for over three hours.

I didn't go to NY to clean up my apartment. Sure, I did put it on the market. But I never kept my sensitive materials there. Everything—my weapons, documents—is stored in a secure place far away from NY city.

So, here I am. Hiding behind the student housing of P School of Design.

Because I need to meet someone. Someone who might—just might—be able to help me. Though, to be honest, I have serious doubts she'll be willing.

Two huge, muscular men approach the first vehicle. But before they can reach it, someone barks at them from inside. Loudly.

The tone and command make them freeze, then step back, turning away from the car.

I smirk. She hasn't changed at all.

The windows are rolled up again, but with my trained eyes, I can still make out the dark silhouettes inside—despite the 70% tint. She's kissing someone. The driver, clearly.

A few minutes later, the passenger door opens.

She steps out. Young. Confident. She leans into the car window, saying something to the driver.

To my surprise, he doesn't look nerdy at all. He's actually kind of striking—brown hair, sharp jawline, golden brown eyes behind slim glasses. No wonder even her icy heart has thawed. I bet half the girls on campus would melt under that gaze.

They exchange a few more words, then she straightens and closes the door, waving as the car pulls away.

As soon as she turns toward the building, I launch.

In fighter-jet mode, I sprint from the shadows. I lower my body, scoop her up at the waist mid-stride, and hoist her over my shoulder like a sack of rice—still running.

I'm more than two miles away before I even hear her start to scream… in slow motion.

An Attempt to Find A Heart Donor [1]