Bug stalked through the busy city streets. It was rush hour, and being just a small priggle he was bumped and jostled by the crowd. Shoes swirled around him but he had eyes for only one man. The target he had been paid to exterminate.
As he got closer, he prepared himself. This would be a tricky hit, as he prided himself on never leaving collateral damage. In this crowd, his preferred weapon- his blowgun- would be too dangerous. He would have to engage the target directly. His quills were coated in an extremely accurate amount of poison. It would be just enough to take down the target while leaving only trace amounts in his system. He had an extremely complex colour-coded system for his poisons- which was the reason for his colourful quills. Each quill was subtly different, enough so that he could identify exact mixtures and amounts based on the shade of a particular one. This hit would be mostly green with just a hint of yellow.
Bug slowly worked his way through the crowd towards the target. Once he was close enough, he simply sped up enough to pass the target, brushing against the target's leg so his quills punctured the skin and deposited their poison. Bug then nonchalantly turned away and made his exit from the crime scene. His target would drop dead within a few minutes, and Bug never had really liked the pandemonium that death caused. He knew that his hit would be successful, they always were.
Bug made his way back to his home and workshop. Here he worked on developing new poisons and refining those that were already known. Eventually, his goal was to develop a poison that was undetectable. He thought he had come close a few times now, but the concoctions were never quite right.
He wondered if he would ever be caught. For him, it was more of a curiosity- he didn't really fear discovery- his poisoning skills were just too accurate for his employers to lose, and they knew it. He would be kept safe for now. Until someone better came along.