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Post by Alexander Stark on Dec 16, 2012 2:36:13 GMT -5
"--No, I don't think it's a bad idea at all" Alexander said, as he spoke to an informant over the phone. "He should be arriving within the hour--Yes, I'm going to pay him...--Irrational? Of course not." Alexander sighed as he continue to argue with the man over the phone, looking at his desk as a police report.
Opening it up, he felt tears forming in his eyes as he scanned over the death report of his son, murdered on the port. No suspects were listed, but Alexander knew who to call when he needed a job done.
"Listen I'll talk to you later." Without waiting for a reply Alexander slammed his telephone on the desk and grabbed at his eyes. His hands were shaking uncontrollably. Moving his hand down towards his mouth, Alexander squinted his wet eyes, feeling guilty towards his son's death.
He didn't want him dead. He only wanted him away from the Hunters. Slamming his hands on the desk repeatedly he cursed out, "DAMN HUNTERS!"
He then stood and walked towards the counter, pulling out vodka, kahlua, and half-and-half, making himself a white russian. Drinking it all in one gulp, Alexander turned and pulled his luger from his back, shooting it at a picture on the wall of Vaughn Logan, which had already many punctured holes in it from darts.
"Sir, there is a Mr. Claude here who wishes to see you", said a female voice coming from an intercomm system. "Send him in" he said as he stumbled back towards his desk, grabbing his cane and settling down.
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Words: 267
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Post by Claude Zhukovski on Dec 16, 2012 3:11:44 GMT -5
It had been nearly two months since his last job and he was starting to get bored of not having an actual target to kill instead of those stupid humans that wandered around all alone. They were to easy, but when someone was willing to pay for someone to die it sometimes meant more than a challenge.
The phone call came as he was following a lone woman as she went into her apartment building. He groaned to himself and took his phone from his pocket after losing sight of her after the elevator doors closed, elevators made following their scent more difficult. The call was short and to the point, agreeing on where and when to meet the man who called.
Three hours before he had to meet the man in an apartment a few blocks down the road, plenty of time. He made his way to the staircase and made his way up, stopping on every floor and passing by the elevator attempting to pick up the scent trail again. After butchering her in her own apartment he left the building and killed time before heading to the meeting.
Two and a half hours, one hotdog, and one soda later he found himself in the lobby of the building talking to the receptionist. After confirming that he was expected she sent him to the top floor. The distinctive sound of a gunshot was heard as he stepped out of the elevator and knocked on the door before entering without waiting for a response. The scene that greeted him surprised him slightly, before him sat the governor. Raising an eyebrow he stepped into the room and sat down across from him and spoke only two words. "You called?"
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Word Count - 293
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Post by Alexander Stark on Dec 16, 2012 3:39:56 GMT -5
"Yes, I did call" Alexander said, as he leaned back in his chair and inspected his cane. After a few quiet moments he looked back at the man seated across from him.
"Tell me, what do you know about the Hunters?" he said, in his typical scottish accent.
Alexander stood and grabbed his empty drink, heading back towards the counter where he kept his liquor. "Would you like anything to drink? Rum, brandy, wine maybe?" He made himself another white russian and waited for the man to reply.
"I can see you're a man of little words. I'll cut to the chase: My son was killed last week during his time with the Hunters. I want you to find out who killed him and eliminate him. Money is no problem" Alexander said, revealing a sly, sharp grin.
Taking a sip of his drink, he breathed out slowly. "I understand you are a born killer; you don't make mistakes. That's good, because im in a position where you don't want to make any mistakes."
Sitting back down behind his desk and taking another drink, he grabbed the police report and threw it towards Claude for him to look over.
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Words: 205
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Post by Claude Zhukovski on Dec 17, 2012 0:25:56 GMT -5
A brief silence passed while Claude watched the man look at his cane before speaking to him, asking a question about the Hunters and offering him a drink. Choosing to accept the offer before answering the question he was just asked. "Vodka if you have any. As for the Hunters, I don't know much about them other than they have fancy toys and big guns. I've heard of them but never actually dealt with them." After hearing the explanation of what he would actually be doing, Claude knew that this job would probably be one of the more challenging jobs he had accepted. He even smiled when he was told that money was not an issue.
"Well if I'm going to be dealing with the Hunters I will need a bit more information that I have at the moment, and I'm assuming that you could get me it." He accepted the glass handed to him and gulped down its contents before placing it on the desk. Taking the report he flipped the folder open and started skimming it and talking to himself. "Shot. one bullet through the head. Close range. Rather large pistol round. He stood up clapping his hands together and rubbing his palms against each other. "Alright, time to work. So who is the in charge of them? I'll need all the information you have on him."
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