Blake was a knife-thrower.
He could throw any knife with deadly accuracy.
Not just balanced throwing knives, like other assassins.
Any knife.
Even butter knives thrown by Blake were deadly.
I saw him go through a whole box of plastic knives and take down an entire movie theatre full of people.
“I said shush,” he said, settling back in his seat and picking up his popcorn and soda from the floor.
When a priceless knife collection vanished from the museum, the police blamed Blake.
But it wasn’t Blake. He didn’t need those knives.
Knives need him. To kill people with.