Chapter Text
Very early on in his villainy career, John has made it a point not to look at what the media thought of him.
For his sanity and so he didn’t have to listen to Fox News, John was never worried about his appearance. He’s had a couple of reporters chasing after him, hoping to get into his mind and figure out what makes him Flore Venenato, too bad for them he was an expert at dodging them.
He didn’t even want to think about the public response to him and Jefferson teaming up. In all fairness, even he doesn't know what to think about the team up. Even with only a couple meeting under their belt John already felt this sense of inevitability, as if it wasn't a matter of if but when the team up occurs.
Squinting to look into his target's apartment, he tried to keep an air of professionalism as he saw the man walk into his apartment. From his vantage point he could see the grandly decorated living room, filled with memorabilia that probably held little to know meaning. Awards shined and polished, with no one looking at them with pride but a general air of someone who’s seen them multiple times before.
John took a moment to shake his head, there were no curtains drawn or screaming matches muffled behind doors, no child covering their ears with pillows as they tried to sleep at night. Drawing in a long breath, John settled himself.
There was a lot that came with being a high profile villain, a lot that went into making sure his plans went without a hitch, spending so many nights awake going over his plan fifty times over. John never prided himself on being a good shot, however, he would pride himself on his success rate.
And in the morning there would be a politician found dead in his apartment, found with a vine shot through his neck, a singular monkshood growing on the end.