The young man in black had collected his pay, a hefty $200,000 dollars, from his client. The man was quite pleased when Eric tossed the monogrammed ring to him, though he didn't show it. The man had simply nodded, threw the stack of cash on the table, and finally as he exited threw the ring back to Eric. "A bonus..."' he said. The young man smiled to himself. Soon, he wouldn't have to be a contract killer anymore. A few more kills and he would have enough to disappear and start over. The truth was, the killing woke him up in the middle of the night. He'd already killed enough when he lived in Ireland with his cousins. They had joined the IRA at 16 years old. Coming to America to escape persecution after the war ended, he took up contract killing after a man watched as he easily killed 3 men that tried to jump him in an alley. He was hesitant at first, but the man flashed him $50,000 dollars, and we all know that money talks. Eric looked out his window of his 12th floor apartment. The view of the city allowed him a little piece, and the height he was at made it hard for backlash from the friends or allies of those he killed. Yawning, he decided to go to bed finally... The man passed through the tiny kitchen into his bedroom. Quickly, Eric stripped from his work clothes which consisted of his trenchcoat, fingerless gloves, black skinny jeans, and his motorcycle boots. Finally, he could get some sleep... he hoped, remembering the last batch of nightmares from 3 days ago. Eric pulled back the covers and got in bed, drifting off to sleep for the night.