(Solo)
Eiras Enterprise located in Ettermire, Alerar.
Times certainly were changing, I had thought. Sitting back in the comfy chair of my former boss, Isaac Eiras, I remembered coming here a couple years back to get information for a job about assassinating one of his competitors. The office certainly hasn't changed that much. Ebony floors, mauve wallpaper, lights at every corner. It instilled a sort of uneasy peace that Isaac slaved to push his customers into before he crushed them with the weight of his wallet. Turning to see the rest of the world far below and behind the safety of tempered glass, I realized why I never decided to become a suit. I was never one for heights, and to be a man of wealth you had to be prepared to take leaps of faith. In my profession, doing things like that will get you killed. Pulling my gaze away from the withering heights and back to his maple wood desk, I grabbed a cigar out of what had once been a locked drawer. Pushing it into my mouth I sat back and dragged a match across the sole of my boot. It paid to work with rich clients, I mused.
The smoggy cities of Alerar were not to my liking, the smell reminded me a lot of New York and such places often made me nervous. It was never a good thing to make a hired gun nervous, but what did Isaac know. He was the Althanian version of a CEO who owned a Fortune Five-Hundred company, and the corporate world here was more cutthroat then in my world. Isaac knew the politics of business and kept pleasure separate from it, but he has definitely made his share of mistakes. Murder, cooking the books, knocking off competitors-- the list goes on and on. He's definitely a man after my own heart, which is exactly why I chose to work for him. Isaac was one of the many people in the higher echelon of Althanian society who actually found religion.
"The Church of the Ethereal Sway," I muttered. What a crock. We had a version of the Church back in my world, only the biggest issues there nowadays were priests fondling little boys and the 'horrors' of a medical procedure called abortion. I never took much stock in such things, and the idea of believing in a higher power was entirely stupid to me. Putting my feet on the desk I leaned back against the glass and fiddled with the Colt 45 revolver that Isaac had conveniently left in his drawer. Such weapons were hard to find nowadays, and if ammo wasn't such a hassle to find at the moment, I would've kept it.
Pulling back on the hammer of the weapon I pushed it back into place, rolling the chamber out to see the golden sheen of .45 rounds. Holding out my hand, I dumped the ammunition and stuffed it in my jacket pocket, and then rummaging around my breast pocket as I pulled out six replacements my client had given me for just such an occasion. Snapping the chamber back into place I threw the weapon back into the drawer and closed it. Leaning over to carefully tinker with the lock, I managed to jury-rig it into place. The old, near-sighted bastard would never know I was here until it was too late.
The funny thing about the Church is that it kept a tight rein on all of its plots and information, and Isaac here was the only member I could find with the right intel that hadn't yet gone into hiding since the outbreak of the civil war. My employers were the type of people that enjoyed the fruits of power, and Mr. Eiras seemed to stand in the way of it. Loose ends, who needed them.
Hearing the sound of footsteps down the hallway, I took one last draw, snuffed out the cigar and threw it under the dark recesses of his desk, grinding it into ash with the heel of my boot. I've met more naive hitmen who let the smoke of burnt cigars wafting into the air and blow their cover. Swatting at the smoke furiously with my arm, I then jogged quietly towards the end of the room where a closet stood open. Pushing into the mess of coats and clothes I shut the doors as the heavy, double doors of Isaac's office smacked stubbornly against the walls.
On either side of a plump, pale-faced man, two mountains of muscle hidden behind suits and ties quickly followed after him. Watching the corporate tycoon angrily march over to his desk and plop down in his chair, I knew it was only a matter of time.
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