Different Perspectives:
Hitman: Contracts
"It's quiet," the bodyguard thought poignantly as he stood watch for the second time that night.
The lawyer had gone for another 'toilet break' as he liked to call them. These breaks were code for 'another line of coke and an injection,' which he so desperately craved.
The bodyguard however, had tried for nine years to wean the lawyer off the stuff; he failed each time as the lawyer put his protector into casual dismissal. Also what did the bodyguard care? He was paid enough each week to keep his family in good measure and protected enough in order to live in security.
As the time passed by, the bodyguard suddenly drifted into a light sleep, as soon as he closed his eyes, he was disturbed by the clash of a steel meat cleaver which clattered so carelessly in the kitchen next door. The bodyguard sat upright and glanced at the adjacent wall before adjusting his mask whilst the glitter and sequins fell from his circus styled mask.
He began to think of the Meat King, the 'delightful' host for this evening's event, the lawyer was special guest at this party, for he had got the King off of all charges placed upon him by the Romanian judicial system. The Meat King was also charismatic, possibly helping his situation; the bodyguard pondered on the King's appearance and broke down a list:
Fat
Bald
Sweaty
Scottish
Sadistic
Fetishist
MURDERER
The Meat King had a strong Scottish accent but as this was his best quality it must have been enough for him to have his pick of women despite the negative circumstances.
"The sex…." the bodyguard imagined this situation swiftly thinking of the young, beautiful and intelligent Romanian women (presumably) on top. The ice cold shiver that went up the bodyguard's spine was enough to make anybody terrified, as his thoughts cast back to the outcome of the trial.
"Probably a bribe," the bodyguard said quietly closing his heavy eyes yet again.
After ten minutes, the bodyguard awoke again and thought it best to check on the prestigious guest in the bathroom.
"Overdose?" his eyes drifted over the bathroom door; he opened the door abruptly as he rolled his dark brown eyes. Starting from the end, the bodyguard checked what he thought was the lawyer's comfort place, after clasping his hand on the latch of the door; the smell filled the bodyguard's nostrils as the sight pictured in his brain, a cascade of vomit and faeces was splashed on the walls and floor. The bodyguard slammed the door, coughing in the process.
The next door was less easy to open.
"Odd," he muttered as he pushed more, he became angrier, eventually kicking the hinges off of the door.
"Hey buddy, piss off, can't you see we're hang a good time?!" a man with a German drawl answered whilst a young woman bounced up and down on his lap, moaning.
"Sorry," the thick Romanian accent came, as he closed the door.
The final stall had to be it, as he cracked the door open until light crept in, the bodyguard couldn't believe his own eyes as he looked at the lawyer face first on the dirt covered floor. He could see a heroin filled syringe and a half sniffed line of cocaine. The bodyguard placed his hand on his holster preparing to draw it, before suddenly a black glove caught around his mouth cutting off his breathing…