The Job
Deep in the night, a dark sky loomed over RhyDin; it was prime time for the city's scum to come out and play. Dimly lit streets were flanked by dark alleys in this less-than reputable stretch of town. No, this was the home of the deceitful, a sanctuary to the wicked. Lingering eyes among street corners and boarded-up windows would meet any poor soul who was unfortunate enough to lose their way here.
The clack of dress shoes upon cement followed a sore thumb, sticking out in this cesspool in such attire. A wisp of smoke trailed the man sporting a suit and tie among petty crooks and vagabonds. Most people found wearing that would be swiftly relieved of their wallet, but an intimidating appearance and steady gait kept them at bay. They were right to keep away; a scar across his cheek and slovenly kept hair made it easy to determine this was no simple working stiff taking the wrong way home.
Straying from the amber hue of the lights illuminating the sidewalk, he made his way into an alley. A cigarette was stomped out at the foot of a small stairwell, quickly followed by thudding knocks against a metal door.
A raspy bark, muffled through the door, came to greet him, "Who's there?"
Already irritated, a low voice marked with a southern twang spoke the magic words, "It's Mason. Open the damn door."
Latches clicked and locks slid open as he was allowed entry, a man in his middle ages with a collared shirt, unbuttoned way more than it ought to be, waved him in. A desk littered with papers sat in the corner of the room; clearly organization was not one of his strong suits. This criminal's office was unkempt, and smelled of smoke and booze.
"You're wearing that around here?" He laughed, eyeing over the new arrival as he closed the door shut again.
Mason didn't care to be working for these people, didn't care to be working in this place, and he was quick to show it. He was a fresh arrival in RhyDin, but he was already a fountain of smart-assed remarks and irritable tones to anyone that bothered him in the slightest.
"I'm sorry. Was I supposed to get a uniform in the mail" I didn't know we were all supposed to look like s**t." He returned the look-over his greeter gave him, and made his way into the room, taking a stand near the desk.
The man at the door only laughed again, making his way to a door at the other end of the office, "Oh, they're going to have a lot of fun with you," he remarked fromt the other room, fishing up a manilla folder soon enough; he tossed it upon the desk Mason stood beside. "Sal's got your job ready. It's a long one, so it might pay off your little debt when you're done. No promises," he said with a shark's grin.
"Goodie," the Texan replied in deadpan joy. "So what?s the deal?" The inquiry was voiced as he glanced over the pages within.
"Someone wants us to keep an eye on her. We already got people on the job, but you're going to get in closer," the man replied, "Lucky for you she's looking to hire someone to work around the house: a driver and...nanny." A smirk shot Mason's way as he was sure to get a bit of a rise over that job title.
"You're s****n" me, right' Me, a f****n" nanny' Y"all can't be that stupid." Scoundrel or not, such a term was demeaning, and his already sizable resentment for his 'superiors" grew that much more. It felt like one big joke at his expense.
Smirk still in place, the man reassured Mason of his assignment, "Think of it like a bodyguard, but for kiddies. The number to call is in there. Don't f**k up that interview, and then you can really get started."
Mason's attention diverted from his instructions as he came across pictures of his target inside the folder; a bit of a silver lining was found in this assignment. "Hell, at least she's a looker."
The snake was met with a warning. "Watch it, loverboy; she'll kill you with more than her looks. You get on her bad side, and she'll mess you up good. You're better off just doing your job until the higher-ups get word to make their move. You're watching her and nothing else."
"Oh, I'll watch her just fine," Mason replied with a devilish grin of his own. "Don't you worry about me; I'll be a good boy."
With those words, he made his way to the door, folder in tow. He had an interview to prepare for, and he'd had enough "official" dealings for today. Through the doorway, back into the alley, he reached into his chest pocket for another smoke; his speech was muffled as he brought a lighter up to ignite it.
"A*****e.?
It seemed like Mason was already having a blast in RhyDin.
The clack of dress shoes upon cement followed a sore thumb, sticking out in this cesspool in such attire. A wisp of smoke trailed the man sporting a suit and tie among petty crooks and vagabonds. Most people found wearing that would be swiftly relieved of their wallet, but an intimidating appearance and steady gait kept them at bay. They were right to keep away; a scar across his cheek and slovenly kept hair made it easy to determine this was no simple working stiff taking the wrong way home.
Straying from the amber hue of the lights illuminating the sidewalk, he made his way into an alley. A cigarette was stomped out at the foot of a small stairwell, quickly followed by thudding knocks against a metal door.
A raspy bark, muffled through the door, came to greet him, "Who's there?"
Already irritated, a low voice marked with a southern twang spoke the magic words, "It's Mason. Open the damn door."
Latches clicked and locks slid open as he was allowed entry, a man in his middle ages with a collared shirt, unbuttoned way more than it ought to be, waved him in. A desk littered with papers sat in the corner of the room; clearly organization was not one of his strong suits. This criminal's office was unkempt, and smelled of smoke and booze.
"You're wearing that around here?" He laughed, eyeing over the new arrival as he closed the door shut again.
Mason didn't care to be working for these people, didn't care to be working in this place, and he was quick to show it. He was a fresh arrival in RhyDin, but he was already a fountain of smart-assed remarks and irritable tones to anyone that bothered him in the slightest.
"I'm sorry. Was I supposed to get a uniform in the mail" I didn't know we were all supposed to look like s**t." He returned the look-over his greeter gave him, and made his way into the room, taking a stand near the desk.
The man at the door only laughed again, making his way to a door at the other end of the office, "Oh, they're going to have a lot of fun with you," he remarked fromt the other room, fishing up a manilla folder soon enough; he tossed it upon the desk Mason stood beside. "Sal's got your job ready. It's a long one, so it might pay off your little debt when you're done. No promises," he said with a shark's grin.
"Goodie," the Texan replied in deadpan joy. "So what?s the deal?" The inquiry was voiced as he glanced over the pages within.
"Someone wants us to keep an eye on her. We already got people on the job, but you're going to get in closer," the man replied, "Lucky for you she's looking to hire someone to work around the house: a driver and...nanny." A smirk shot Mason's way as he was sure to get a bit of a rise over that job title.
"You're s****n" me, right' Me, a f****n" nanny' Y"all can't be that stupid." Scoundrel or not, such a term was demeaning, and his already sizable resentment for his 'superiors" grew that much more. It felt like one big joke at his expense.
Smirk still in place, the man reassured Mason of his assignment, "Think of it like a bodyguard, but for kiddies. The number to call is in there. Don't f**k up that interview, and then you can really get started."
Mason's attention diverted from his instructions as he came across pictures of his target inside the folder; a bit of a silver lining was found in this assignment. "Hell, at least she's a looker."
The snake was met with a warning. "Watch it, loverboy; she'll kill you with more than her looks. You get on her bad side, and she'll mess you up good. You're better off just doing your job until the higher-ups get word to make their move. You're watching her and nothing else."
"Oh, I'll watch her just fine," Mason replied with a devilish grin of his own. "Don't you worry about me; I'll be a good boy."
With those words, he made his way to the door, folder in tow. He had an interview to prepare for, and he'd had enough "official" dealings for today. Through the doorway, back into the alley, he reached into his chest pocket for another smoke; his speech was muffled as he brought a lighter up to ignite it.
"A*****e.?
It seemed like Mason was already having a blast in RhyDin.