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@audrasmythe

𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄. 𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 that frankly never fell from between the hitman's lips any longer -- perhaps drowning in his own denial that he actually truly cared. The gash he had created in his wall was long since covered with fresh drywall and paint but the discoloration was still there, the difference in material being too obvious for him to seldom ignore. Again, here was another point where both him and Lee differed greatly. Declan did not require an army to follow him, ordinarily he could fight his battles all on his own, a silent kill being enough with no requirement for grandure. However, with a simple flick of his wrist, The Syndicate could have the belly of the beast otherwise known as New York City crumbling to their knees. While Declan was well aware that he had come into this world with blood dripping from his hands, Audra was better than that. When Audra had begun pulling away from The Syndicate, Declan couldn't deny that he had looked the other way. Pretended not to see a single thing. She had been so close, if she could have just reached out a little bit further...

It felt like a lifetime ago, but Declan could help but recall an unspoken promise he had made to himself when he had met the brunette that he would never let anything happen to her, for both herself and her husband ( who quite frankly was a bastard in his own right ). Many had searched for a reaction out of him, a weakness, something that would inflict pain without giving him a way out, a quick death. However, knowing that Lee had chosen her, why her to make an example out of had caused him to need some kind of seperation between himself and the rest of the world or he just might have shattered. And yet, here she is standing just outside of his place -- and he can feel himself becoming undone. Of course he knows that she is not the same Audra that he has come to privately adore, having given herself to Lee's torture to stop the pain from engulfing her. But the sight of her, standing in front of him tells him for at least a second, a fraction of a moment that it is her. The woman he has come to care for, come to love.

"Audra.." He murmurs, stepping aside as he hides his surprise with a disgruntled cough. "Come in.."

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@leemalkovich

𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 meant to be an employee of Lee Malkovich, known for his ruthlessness. His need to snuff out those who got in his way. While Declan knew that he himself was more about efficiency than grandstanding -- at least he knew it was better to have those under Lee's thumb as friends as opposed to being enemies. On this particular day, Lee had requested a moment of his attention and while it was no surprise, Declan couldn't help but ask himself about what fresh hell he was walking into. A meeting with Lee alone ordinarily meant that the other would be met with the kiss of death, but Declan knew better. Hell, Lee knew better. They were a match cut from different cloths. As Declan entered the meet location, he crossed his arms before taking a seat across from the other man. From those who might have looked on, one might have thought they were simply two friends getting caught up in conversation after a lengthy passage of time. "Y'wanted ta' see me?" Declan spoke rather calmly, face remaining unmoving.

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𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐎'𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐍

Hiding the whisper of a bloodstain beneath a clean-pressed suit jacket, a charming, debonair smile, words that will swallow you whole if you're not careful and bottle of whiskey that cost more than your apartment.

TRIGGER WARNING: mention of blood, murder, gore, death

BIOGRAPHY

Declan O'Sullivan was born into the life he now lives and as much as his mother tried to fight it, he didn't have a choice. O'Sullivan, while a name dripping with old family money, is one that is stained with the blood of those that have fallen at their feet. All thanks to Preston O'Sullivan, Declan's father. While it is entirely unclear now Preston found himself in his line of work, he made it quite clear that this was the legacy he wanted to leave behind. Declan's mother was an honest woman, a dancer, but most importantly, an individual who thought she could fix Preston, all with the power of her love and devotion. Only she could lure him from the darkness and cause him to see the light. She didn't live long enough for that delusion to shatter, for she died at the hands of one of Preston's foes on the eve of his seventh birthday. And while it was certainly a tragedy, this triggered the first lesson in Preston's education for his one and only son: people like us? We don't get to love. But most of all, hesitate and your head will be rolling faster than you can catch it.

Preston O'Sullivan was a hitman, freelance. However, for the right price he could be swayed to work with some of the worst of the worst in the underbelly of New York City. Known for leaving nothing behind, not a fingerprint, not even a calling card to claim his kill -- he taught his son everything he knows before he even entered puberty. By thirteen he had already become his father's secret weapon. How would anyone even begin to suspect a thirteen year old boy to perform the actions of a trained contract killer? Perhaps this was a life that he could lead -- that is, until his father's death shortly before they turned eighteen. If you knew who the O'Sullivan's were, it was only a matter of time before you were a distant memory. It would be Declan who would discover his father's body, remembering his fathers words. Don't hesitate. Don't hesitate. Don't hesitate.

Even if there were times when Declan felt like a machine in opposition to being Preston's son, he was still the only caretaker he could truly form memories about. Thus created a sense of emptiness in his heart, even if he often joked that he didn't have one. Relocation soon came to Paris, France, where he spent many years hiding behind the mask of a Writer all the while taking occasional jobs under the table. If his identity was compromised, he would take out the mole and his or her associates. It was that simple. This was perhaps the closest thing to a quiet life he would ever come to know, which made it all the more difficult for him to leave it all behind.

The plan had always been to return to New York City when the time was right, when the rest of the world has erased Preston O'Sullivan from their collective consciousness. And while Preston knew damn well that he could protect himself, it certainly wouldn't hurt to have someone else watching his back. Thus, he made the decision to align himself with The Syndicate and offer his services within their ranks. While he believes he has found a group to tether him, a place to land, this doesn't stop the restless heart of Declan O'Sullivan from watching his back...

HEADCANONS

Preston was originally born in Dublin, Ireland and relocated to the states for university. Declan too speaks with a pretty heavy Irish accent.

A very non-committal sort of guy. Has many affairs and flings, many knowing damn well that they will do one of two things. They will either never tie him down or never see him again.

Has spent most of his life with his head in his work, rarely ever having a true social life. This rarely changes, but he is slowly working on keeping his personal life and his work life seperate.

Lives in a Manhattan penthouse overlooking the city, mainly due to old family money and cash from both his father's work and his own.

Often can be found in any places under Syndicate control or anywhere where he can get a good, stiff drink in peace.

Doesn't show much emotion. A rather straight edge, straight to the point. However, he remains calm and cordial. With those he is unfamiliar with. Perhaps one of the most dangerous things about him is that when he's angry, he doesn't show it. He simply acts before his aggressor can even blink.

MORE TO COME.

CONNECTIONS HERE !!!

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Entry and Exit wound sizes                          

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5x13

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[UHQ] New pictures of Theo James for Hugo Boss (x)