<i><span style="font-family:Philosopher"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Smoke</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> Such an ambiguous thing</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">...</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> Wisping gracefully through the air</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> pirouetting like little angels</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> only to disperse into nothingness</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> leaving nothing behind but a trail of ash and sin</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> Death is a funny thing</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">;</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> how we cease to be at the whims of the universe</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">;</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> how easy it is to sever the delicate thread of another life</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> Us humans</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> such petty and fickle animals</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> nothing but flesh</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> bone</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> and an inherent urge to destroy</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> We are animalistic creatures; preying on the weak and hiding from the strong </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">—</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> all for the endless endeavor that is our own survival</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> Even now</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> as I stand triumphant over fellow my man</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> their gore soaking my malicious fingers</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> I find no pleasure or pain in the act of ending their insignificant lives</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">;</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> no sense of remorse as their blood taints my soul</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> I simply fought to live another day</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">...</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> To survive in this treacherous world riddled with senseless absurdities</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">There are lines in this world</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">;</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> lines that we’re told never to cross</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> Don</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">t kill</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> don</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">t steal</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> don</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">t do anything that you wouldn</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">t want done to you</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> To me</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> at least</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> It</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">s all <b>bullshit</b></span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> In this city</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> there are no lines</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> No boundaries</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> It</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">s a gore</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">-</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">filled free for all</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> with each and every person vying to be on the top</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> The only thing that differentiates men like me from the bodies on the floor is the fact that like many others</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> I was willing to cross more lines</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> commit more murder</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">;</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> lie</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> steal</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> and cheat my way to the top</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> The amount of bodies I</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">ve buried</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> the sheer number of souls I</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">ve taken </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">—</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> all for some pitiful excuse</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> To be a mercenary</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> a murderer </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">-</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> a senseless killer </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">-</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> one must alter his mindset</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">;</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> beguile himself to believe that what he</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">s doing is justified</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> It</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">s a scapegoat of sorts</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> an excuse to kill without thinking.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"> “</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">It</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">s all for my own survival</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,”</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> we tell ourselves</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">. “</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">He would</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">ve done the same to me</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.”</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">I haven</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">t come to squabble about the sinister life I live</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> I</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">m simply pointing out the facts of human nature</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> The world is so lackluster</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">...</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> Yet it is at its epitome</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">;</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> a state of anarchy and freedom</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> It</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">s ironic</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> how I</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">m free to do whatever I please</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> Yet</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> I feel entrapped in a shell of vast empty space</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span></span></i><br/><span style="font-family:Philosopher"><br/>
Joel cut off his mental tangent, taking a glance at the mottled corpses before draping a hand over their still-open eyes. He placed the cadavers over a wide bed sheet, holstering his pistol as he threw a blanket over their lifeless bodies. It wasn’t that he cared about how they would be found and subsequently processed, but that he simply hated the sight of corpses. There was something about the contrast between life and death - and how close the two could intertwine - that disturbed him.<br/>
He walked over to the balcony on the far end of the room and glanced at the cluttered streets below, resting his arms over the balustrade that jutted over the thoroughfare. Below him was a cesspool of citizens and criminals alike, all of them oblivious to the murder that had occurred two stories above them. A dry smile stretched across his face. Even if he had shot and killed the two right before their very eyes, they wouldn’t care. They were all busy bodies making their way in the city, their minds too preoccupied on themselves to care about the lives - or lack thereof - of others. Joel listened in to the sounds of the city’s nightlife. It was mix of indistinguishable voices and rubber soles impacting wet cement, intertwining with the occasional gunshot or scream that ricocheted off of the numerous concrete buildings. It was a cacophonic and chaotic in nature — without order or reason. He glanced down at the street. They were like rats in a cramped sewage pipe, brushing by another in a condensed mass of sweat and filth.<br/>
Joel cocked his head to the side and turned his back towards the open air, letting his eyes pan from the crowd to the room before him. He splayed out his arms along the balcony railing and took a moment to observe the disheveled quarters. Placed on the second floor of a run-down motel, the room boasted a twin sized bed and wooden nightstand in one corner, and a shabby table with a three legged stool that gave way to the balcony on the other. It was adequate and utilitarian, complemented with a grimy bathroom and a dysfunctional ceiling fan — an almost pleasant sight in comparison to other motels scattered throughout the city. In the corner was a candelabrum, its wicks burning bright, the flames almost meeting their sconces as long, black shadows danced against peeling cream colored walls, illuminating the corpses before him. Joel knew that his target would be in this exact room at this exact time. He memorized everything about him: his habits, his daily patterns, what he obsessed over, the people he habitually visited. Joel’s gaze shifted over to the second body. Especially that woman. If he remembered correctly, that man lived quite a comfortable life in the upper echelons. He was dressed affluently, a tailored blazer complimenting his dress pants and polished oxfords shoes. If it weren’t for his luxurious attire, the man wouldn’t be such a spectacle to look at. He was lanky and dark in the face, like his features were slightly compressed into his skull, his hollowed cheeks matching his boney frame. His fingers were slender and gaunt, adorned with gems and bullion, with nails too clean to belong to a normal citizen of Roanapur. Joel hung his head back and worked his jaw, letting his mind run amok within his skull. His target was probably a man of power, some corrupt representative of some sect of Roanapur, who - just like the majority of others - was bribed by the families to become a man of always. So long as he turned a blind eye to their activities, he would get to luxuriate in a life free of struggle whilst leeching off of the blood, sweat, and tears of his people. Joel immediately felt less regret for killing the man. Yes, he did cull some scum from the earth, but there would always be another fish in the pond to take his place. He did, however, regret killing the woman. She, of all the individuals in the room, deserved death the least. It was a shame. Out of all the mistresses the man could condemn to death with him, she was the one he choose. She was adequate. Beautiful, but not in the likes of a bouquet of roses or in the majesty of an exotic beast. More so in that of a pomeranian. Stout frame, rounded face, well fed and posh. Probably stuck around the man to leech him of his money and affection, but got caught in the wrong place, at the wrong time. <i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Just plain </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">‘</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">ol bad luck</span></i>. Joel glanced down at their fingers. Around the man’s was a silver ring, embroidered with what looked like precious stones. His eyes shifted to the woman’s finger, his mind formulating a reason as to why his employer called the hit.<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> No ring</span></i>. Joel smiled to himself. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"><i>To call a hit on your own husband</i></span>... <i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">That</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">s seriously messed up</span></i>. The mercenary walked over to the corpse crouched down. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">But I suppose it doesn</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">t matter now</span>,” he said as he wiggled the ring off the cold finger of the man. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Call it a tip for my services.</span> <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Besides</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">I don</span>’<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">t think your wife will mind anyway</span>.”<br/>
Joel pulled a cigarette out from his pocket and pinched it between his lips, flicking a lighter to ignite his detrimental addiction. <i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Another life taken</span></i>. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as the tip of his cigar burned bright, filling his lungs with a familiar burning sensation. In the end, didn’t care about the motives of his employers, their ideological backings or their quests for revenge. As long as he got paid by the end, he couldn’t give less of a shit. All that mattered is that he would have food in his gut for the next few days, and a drink between his fingers in a couple hours. That was the bleak reality of Roanapur, and it was something he had grown accustomed to. He exhaled slowly, blowing the smoke out into the night sky, watching as the gray smog dissipated into the air.<br/>
The mercenary relished his temporary tranquility, burning down his cigarette while staring absentmindedly at the bustling street below. He pulled out a notepad from his back pocket and flipped it open, flicking through the numerous, worn pages before stopping at a name.<br/>
<br/>
Joshua Dawson<br/>
<br/>
Joel’s eyes lingered at the name along with the number associated with the title before crossing it out in black ink. His eyes trailed down to the next name on the list, and paused. There was no name. Just a picture of a man, along with the some text below his head. <br/>
<br/>
<b>Freedom</b><br/>
12:00 AM<br/>
The Black Horse<br/>
<b>Be there.</b><br/>
<br/>
The soldier of fortune clenched his jaw and took a deep breath of his cigarette, flipping his book close before stuffing it back into his pocket. Something about that job didn’t feel right. In fact, nothing about that job felt right. How he received it, who he received it from. Normally, he didn’t care about his employer’s motive or aspirations. The only thing he required was the client’s name, the target, and a price. But for a reward as audacious as that, some exceptions could be made. <i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Worse case scenario</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">I kill another wealthy politician and get another target on my back</span></i>. Joel thought. Rolling up his sleeve, he glanced at his watch, a wry smirk stretching across his face as both hands rested at 12. <i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">It</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">s not like there won</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">t be hundreds more to take either of our places</span></i>. He turned his attention back onto the street, his eyes wandering from face to face until they landed on a familiar man. He was a conspicuous figure of sorts, his ostentatious demeanor amplified by a posse of armed personnel. It wasn’t uncommon for the richest of the rich to employ personal armies to protect them. The mercenary narrowed his eyes, adjusting his cigarette as he pulled out a small sheet of paper from his back pocket, unfolding the crumpled piece until the still image of the familiar man came to view. From the still frame alone, Joel could tell that the man was tall and brooding, sporting a rectangular shaped head that possessed intense sapphire eyes, and a full, trimmed golden mustache. Joel smirked as his eyes glazed over the numbers on the man’s head, and then back to the man on the street. He then placed the paper into his ashtray, taking one last breath from his cigar before jamming it into the paper, burning image of the man in a splotch of black. He then walked over to the corpses before him, an idea emerging from the depths of his fortune-driven mind.<br/>
<br/>
Joel made his way down the motel, merging into the large thoroughfare of citizens as he trailed the peculiar man. He kept his pace slow, ensuring that he didn't stand out amongst the crowded streets. Years of experience had taught him how to blend and disappear in packed crowds; how to switch between civilian and cold blooded killer on the flip of a switch. The way he walked and held himself changed, his normally proud and long strides reduced to a slow and monotonous drudge. He kept his shoulders slouched and his eyes down, only glancing up to look at his target, who was turning into a neon illuminated club, his blatantly armed bodyguards surrounding him in a shield of flesh and muscle. The bright lights shone down in vivid purples and greens, a wire figurine of a stripper flashing sporadically in the night. Right beneath the incandescent figure was the name of the club in bold letters.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#5900b3"><b>The Black Horse</b></span><br/>
<br/>
Joel lounged around the entrance for a few minutes before entering the club, making eye contact with one of the bouncers. A hand gripped his shoulder tightly. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#8000ff">Business</span>?” A low and hollow voice said. The mercenary rolled his eyes and pouted. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">C</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">mon</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> Benny</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> Can</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">t an upstanding citizen such as myself just get a good drink once in awhile</span>?” He put on his best smile. The bouncer didn’t quite catch on to his sense of humor. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#8000ff">You know the rules</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#8000ff"> Pay up</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#8000ff"> or leave</span>.” The grip on his shoulder tightened and Joel’s smile disappeared. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Fine</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">asshole</span>.” He slipped a small roll of bills into the man’s gruff hands. The fee to operate inside the Black Horse was hefty, but nothing compared to what he was going to get after he finished the contract. The crushing pressure on his shoulder released the second the money left his hand. Joel shot a nasty look at the bouncer before pushing past the entrance. Immediately, the distinct thumping of percussion reached his ears, only growing louder as he pushed passed the main lounge. He approached a set of tall, seemingly impregnable doors, taking a moment to look up and admire the barricade that separated him from the muted sub-tones emerging from the other room. They were braced and reinforced with chrome, with numerous bars and bolts embroidering two behemoth slabs of petrified wood. It was quite an exquisite view, the numerous fragments of minerals glistening and corusicating as incandecent lights reflected off of them, twinkling in hues of cadmium and ochre. With a heavy grunt, Joel swung the doors open. Immediately, he recoiled at the sheer amount of noise that filed his ears, blinking multiple times as he attempted to regain his composure. It was shrill and penetrating, with a constant rhythm of fast-paced, high-pitched snares that reverberated in his inner ear. How anyone could enjoy such an atmosphere, he would never know. Joel could barely hear himself think as he meandered through the crowd, covering his nose against the pungent stench of sex and alcohol that wafted in the air, his mind preoccupied with his mission on acknowledge the women that called out to him, their slurred and seductive voices penetrating through the air and prodding at his inner demons. He ignored their calls and pushed on, vying his way around the lust-induced mob, his eyes catching onto the numerous stages and their accompanying performers that dotted the floor, as well as the subsequent men that surrounded them, some simply relishing the view, others shamelessly giving in to their more carnal desires. Joel shook his head and pushed through the sea of pheromones and men, reaching a clearing of sparsely populated space. It was a familiar sight, secluded and tucked away in the far corner of the floor. He cracked a smile, his eyes panning the numerous rows of alcohol and fine liquor, his mouth watering slightly at such a magnificent sight. The table was quite exquisite as well, its rich chocolate hue and rather solid resonance reciprocating his knocks as he rasped it. It was lacquered with a bright sheen, almost contrasting to the rather dark atmosphere that the club appealed to. Joel let out a dull chuckle as he read the engraving etched into the wood.<br/>
<br/>
<b><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#5900b3">Come For The Women</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#5900b3"> Stay For The Alcohol</span></b><br/>
<br/>
He gestured to the bartender, taking a seat on one of the many vacant stools. "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">A new table</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Oscar</span>?” He said, feeling out the slippery wood, tracing a finger over its intricate designs.<br/>
“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">Indeed</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">It</span>'<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">s the fifth one this month</span>,” The bartender retorted, flashing a look of irritation towards the mercenary. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">Just try not to destroy this one</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">I did spend a lot of money on it</span>.”<br/>
“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Who would ever do such a thing</span>,” Joel cooed, glancing up at him. The bartender responded with an unamused “hmph” and picked up a bottle, running his eyes up and down Joel’s body.<br/>
“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">New suit</span>?”<br/>
Joel faked his surprise. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Yeah</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> picked up yesterday</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> Whaddya think</span>?”<br/>
“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">I think that for a man of such talent</span>,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3"> you</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">re a terrible liar</span>. <i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">That</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span></i> <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">or you need to start seeing a different tailor</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span>” His eyes lingered on a splatter of blood that streaked across the suit’s collar. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">And maybe find a laundromat while you</span>’<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">re at it</span>.”<br/>
The toothy grin that was once plastered the Joel’s face died as the naturally stoic expression on the bartender’s grew.<br/>
“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">I think for such a man donning such wisdom</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">, </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">you</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">re a huge prick</span>.”<br/>
The bartender smirked. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">That</span>’<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">s why wise individuals such as myself are called smartasses</span>,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3"> you suit</span>-<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">stealing moron</span>.” He began to polish his bottle once more. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">So</span>,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3"> did you come here to drown your demons</span>,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3"> and just so happen to have a horribly tailored</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3"> bloodstained suit</span>?" He said in a deceivingly pip tone, his eyes focused on his wiping. His diligent movements stopped as his eyes met Joel’s. “...<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">Or are you here on business</span>?” A brief silence passed as the mercenary stared at the man. For all the conversations and belittling quips he had had with Oscar, he had never really gotten to know much about him. All the humble tender divulged was that he was once a cop-turned-mercenary, but gave up his life of sin to help others forget their own.<br/>
“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">A little bit of everything</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> Just give me something to numb the pain</span>.”<br/>
"<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">Ah</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">the usual then</span>." The old man cracked a slight smile, turning around to begin the tedious process of creating his order. Without turning around, Oscar turned his body slightly, giving view to a double-barreled shotgun that was perched beneath the back counter. It was a silent reminder to keep things efficient and tidy. This wasn't the first time Joel had proceeded with killing high value targets in this bar. He let out a slight scoff and nodded, craning his neck to scan the remainder of the building. <br/>
<br/>
The club was very.. Rank. Like most clubs in Roanapur, it possessed a very warm and appealing atmosphere. Upon heavier scrutiny, however, there was always something off about them. The air inside smelled of sex and alcohol, with an accompanying scent of floral detergent: a failed attempt to mask the pheromones and rut wafting through the air. Prostitution was commonplace for a club like this. The Black Horse, however, was one of the lucky - or rather unlucky - establishments in the center of a red-light zone.<br/>
Acts of crude and debaucherous behavior ran rampant, with diseases, along the other various barbiturates, spreading like wildfires. Joel grunted at his tedious thoughts, trying to ignore the sounds of fornication and occasional moan that originated from the hallways to his left.<br/>
<br/>
His liquor arrived.<br/>
<br/>
Joel picked up the glass tumbler and took a sip of his beverage, letting the smooth liquid run down his throat. He let out a satisfied sigh, his eyes slightly watering at the taste of bourbon amongst other subtle flavors. He licked his lips, craning his neck to gaze upon the mass of sex and filth before him, letting his eyes wander from face to face. Each of them had a story, their own struggles and endeavors, goals and failures; all that sentimental bullshit he didn’t give a damn about. He let out a low chuckle from the bottom of his throat as he came to a trivial conclusion. Here, they didn't even come close to possessing a shred of humanity. They came here to rut like crazed animals in heat. Men relentlessly hit on women, flirtatiously groping and grinding on them, all striving for a ubiquitous goal to fuck.<i> <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">I bet they would shove their dicks into any hole presented to them on a silver platter</span></i>. He scoffed, cutting off his tangent for another day.<br/>
<br/>
Time to get to work. <br/>
<br/>
He nodded at the bartender. and craned his head towards the V.I.P section. It was sectioned off and annexed from the main room, its narrow entrance marked by nothing more than translucent portière. Joel trained his eyes at the wall of flesh that surrounded his target as they made their way into the room, the jazzy growl of a saxophone increasing in volume as they entered. Joel pursed his lips, pondering for a moment before placing his thumb and pointer finger in his mouth. He whistled towards a group of prostitutes, beckoning one of the skimpily-dressed women over.<br/>
Somewhere in the pit of his gut, he felt a tinge of pity for using them for his own agenda. Just like most - if not all - of the other men of Roanapur, he objectified, used, and tossed them aside like an oversexualized slab of meat. As they sent one of their own to approach him, Joel felt his breath catch as his eyes run up and down her figure. She, along with the rest of her kin, were the epitome of all things sexual. From her luxurious black hair that faded to red in waves of balayage, to her tanned skin and curvaceous body, she was the perfect image of sensual, enticing corruption. Tall stilettos complemented her revealing, black clothes. They looked almost like a nun’s habit, but pared down to an almost fetishistic extreme. Her slim breasts provided just a hint of shape to the diaphanous fabric, a promise of feminine delights instead of the garish acres of flesh her outfit displayed. Joel hesitated for a moment, considering for a second to simply abandon his target and spend a night with the woman before him, shaking his head as he decided against it. With a crook of a finger, he leaned in and whispered in her ear, pointing at the group of men in the V.I.P section as he slipped a stack of bills into her hand. "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">For a friend</span>." He winked. She smiled and nodded, returning to her group to distribute the money. A few of the girls looked in his direction, but quickly turned back around to get their share of money. They shouldn’t be a problem in the future. So long as they get their money, they won’t remember the man that patronized them. Joel raised his glass and took a sip of his drink.<br/>
“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b3b3">Bastard</span>,” Oscar commented, undisturbed from his polishing.<br/>
“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Everything has a price</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">old man</span>.” Joel leaned back in his chair and waited for the girls to do their part.<br/>
<br/>
Let the chaos begin.</span>