"My dear Mr. Roscoe," I cooed in the old billionaire's ear. "What can I do for you tonight?"

Pretending to be a German seductress was not uncommon for me. Disguises were a part of my everyday life. Always someone new, someone no one would recognize. Being invisible was key in my line of self-employment.

"Well, my German kitten, you may let your imagination run wild when it comes to old Roscoe," the man answered with a wink.

Ugh. He reminded me of my grandfather. Same receding hair line, same white hair, same water blue eyes. Who would ever want to have sex with a grandpa? Gold diggers, I suppose.

I pulled my beige trench coat off to reveal a very racy set of lingerie. My bra and underwear were black with lace, my garter black sequence, and my fishnets accentuating my long, muscular legs. My heels were no easy feat. Four inches was four inches too much in my opinion.

"So, handcuffs are in order, no?" I whispered huskily, pulling a pair of handcuffs from my coat. "Shall I be the handcuffer or the handcuffee?"

Roscoe held out his wrists with an impish grin.

"Good boy," I murmured. Old men were easy to finish. I hadn't experienced a challenging target in weeks.

I handcuffed Roscoe and put my hands on my hips. A quick kill and out of New York City before midnight. Perfect. I walked behind Roscoe, pulling the knife out of my underwear. Too bad I hadn't thought to buy more poison. This man seemed like he could be nice.

I knelt on the bed behind Roscoe and brushed my lips along his wrinkly neck.

"You've had a good run, haven't you Mr. Roscoe?" I murmured, gripping his shoulder.

"Yes," he said with a chuckle. "A very good run."

"Goodbye, Roscoe." I slit the old man's throat and covered his throat with a towel. The blood was gushing through his papery thin skin.

I laid him down on the bed and quickly covered him up, trying to make it look like he had fallen asleep, not been murdered by a German prostitute.

I threw my trench coat back on and did it up. I cleared my throat and messed my hair a little bit. The guards were idiots; they wouldn't discover the body until noon tomorrow.

I slipped out of the bedroom and closed the door behind me. I walked to the door where my cheque was waiting for me. Two-thousand dollars. Not bad for five minutes. I slipped out into the night.

This is an interesting fanfic, eh? I honestly haven't seen a fanfic where Bella has the upper-hand, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Bella is basically an assassin that went rogue. She used to work for the government, but she broke away and has been killing all of the people that made her the way she is. It gets much more interesting, I swear.