Apologies to those of you who've seen this piece before, I was scouring through my older works looking for stuff I wanted rid of, and realised dA had annoyingly sized the original picture down as a preview to the text. So I'm reuploading as a picture, with the text as the description, (hence all the wording below), as I cannot for the life in me figure out how to change category from lit to art.

I love this picture for two reasons, one, it's of my main protagonist from my mammoth novel project, hit.the.floor, Nick, finally exacting revenge on the man who betrayed his father's trust. And two, it was the first ever picture where I made use of the wonderful *jademacalla's stock pictures. Who'd have thought so far down the line it would have led to what I consider a dear friendship and loads more awesome collaborations on both his projects and mine. Here's to even more, Jade, just wanted to say thanks for all your great inspiration over the past couple of years.

Good ol' pencil on paper, a vastly underused medium in my repertoire. Text below is optional, feel free to read and comment if you happen to have the time. One note: the silencer was on the original stock picture, before I preferred being more accurate to the text, so strictly speaking it shouldn't be in the picture, but artistic licence says it looks better than without.

Hit the Floor and characters within are © to me, Sam Hogg. No use or reposting of this image without my permission.


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Karl, who had paused in his violence for a moment, was taking in their exchange with a passing interest and a crooked smile. As Toni's livid eyes settled on him, he was struck by the memory of another female, one he had seen grow through the innocence of youth into an attractive young woman. His attraction had been one of the reasons he had asked to be removed from that assignment, perhaps at least until the young woman's father and brother were dead. Only then could he have returned to comfort her, to finally have her. However, that particular plan had been scuppered by the machinations and sly skills of the man out cold on the floor in front of him. Janet Trestler's brother, Nick. Because of Ryder's idiocy, Janet was dead, and he would never know what it felt like to hold her.

Hard Russian features crinkled into a grimace at that thought, and seriousness took its usual place as he cocked the hammer on the gun.

“I wonder if he knows” Karl paused in a rare spoken thought, driven to bitterness at something he would never have chance to enjoy. He cast a glance askance at his employer ignoring the firey, barbed looks his female captive was giving , “I'd have gladly screwed his sister once he was dead?”

He tensed up for the shot as he turned back, his gaze following the grayed metal of the gun's line of sight.

In those scant couple of seconds before he had chance to pull the trigger, the figure in front of him shifted. He caught the blur of movement, a metallic glint in flesh arcing out from under what he had foolishly presumed to be an unconscious body. The word ‘bastard’ carried to his ears on the snarled breath of his intended mark, a second before the crack of the firing pin in the Sig 226. Karl couldn't take in the air fast enough to gasp as his skull imploded inwards, a gory path carved by the suck of energy the spinning 9mm gold-plated slug left.

Nick watched the Russian's stunned face fall backwards like a cardboard cut out just nudged over, the impact of his bullet the gentle push that sent him down. Half way through the fall, the man's control over his limbs slackened and he buckled into a corpse on the concrete, a bloody streak dribbling from the bone-splintered cavity just off the centre of his nose.

Ignoring the cry of his nerves as his body registered the damage done by the fallen assassin's polished shoe tips, Nick swung his gun once more. Jay's vivid blue eyes, lost in the darkness of the shadows on his face and his thick black lashes came to rest on Nick's own, his body shielded behind Toni’s, his well honed arm outstretched over her shoulder, propping up the gun he held.

Nick drew in a haggard breath, fighting back the screeching pain in his sides, and gingerly rolled onto his back, his right hand finally coming to steady his left on the weapon as he aimed between his legs at Jay's face. For just a moment, nothing but the giant waxy fronds of the nearby palm trees moved in the warm breeze. Even the din of the city seemed to simmer to nothing but a static buzz, as if the gravity of Karl Rollinger's sudden death had just sunk in and a newfound respect was due the younger Trestler lying bloodstained and grimacing on the ground.

The creased grin that formed on Jay’s face broke the reverie.

“Smooth, Trestler, very smooth. You’re the first to get Karl off balance. The only man to kill him. Congratulations.”