I own nothing but my dreams.

Domino's Boss

Domino Hurley could not help but smirk as he strolled down the corridor. Although he tried to keep his face expressionless as he winked at the secretary, and passed new co-workers who tried not to stare- not so easy with the huge aura of smug confidence he generated- the smile crept on to his face with all the stealth of a midnight assassin. And soon as he had shut the brown, windowless door of his office behind him, he laughed. He laughed until the tears ran down his skeletal face. Looking round the matchbox of a room they had put him in, he laughed even harder. Five long years in the land of the dead. Three long years working for Hector. One since he had actually met the man, and got out of his sub-sub-sub co-assistant manager of a tiny little project in some department that was in turn part of someone else's department, that was only a sub-department itself. One year since Hector's eye had caught sight of the figures under "profit" for Dom's little piece, and had summoned him up to his office.

"I am a rich man, Mr. Hurley…"

Eleven months, maybe ten-and-a-half, since he had earned his current position, which was happily high up the ladder, with plenty of footholds for further climbing. He was now only one sub away from being leader of the largest project, the main project of Hector's domain.

"But not nearly rich enough…"

A month, two, twelve. Soon enough, he would lead this project. He knew the current leader, a timid man with a mouth faster than his brain. He was now Hurley's boss, even in the eyes of the government. The head of department at the DOD. He was terrified of Hector, and, although the Fat Man loved the fear he saw in he eyes of so many, he despised that little slave.

"Not for what I want…"

But Hector liked Domino. There was no room for fear in his eyes; they had been filled with greed long, long ago. When he looked at Domino, he saw a man who had respect, but not too much. He saw trust, but just a little. Everything with a pinch of salt. He saw a man who could nod and raise his eyebrows simultaneously, a man who could perch on Hector's desk, and still call him Sir.

"And I always get what I want. I'm famed for it."

So now Domino was a glorified thief; stealing deaths for Hector. What a job. He looked great in a black robe, and he could really use his perfect, although somewhat unorthodox, people skills. And if he was ever stuck for motivation, there was always the fact he was now reaping -and, yes, pun intended- in two wages.

"I've seen your records…"

Domino was built of possibilities. He could be anyone, anyone, everyone! He could be the richest man dead. He could be as brilliant, as rich, as Hector. He, too, could get what he wanted.

"I think you could help me."

Domino sat in his chair behind the desk, remembering. What had he said? What should he of said?

"Why, Mr. LeMans," a smile, a wink "certainly. You only have to ask."

What went unspoken? Anything you want, anything you need. Flirtations not quite admitted to.

So now, Domino only had to wait. Wait, and play his cards right with his real boss. Keep the right attitude. But come on! He was, well, he was him! How could anything, anything at all, possibly go wrong?