Footsteps were all to be heard amongst the occasional whisper. People of all variety marched past with stern, silent looks plastered to their faces. Phones were always buzzing like insects, except a thousand times annoying in comparison. Well, at least to him. With a heavy sigh of impatience and boredom, he ran a hand through his wispy, light blonde hair and slouched into the stiff waiting room chair. A television in the far corner of the room had been programmed to stay on the news at all times, which he would know, because he tried to change the damn channel every time he was forced to sit out here.

The atmosphere of this place was a buzzkill, and with all the high society business people in their suits parading around, he stood out like blood in water. His black tee, leather jacket, ripped jeans and chain necklace made him out to be some punk. But people knew better. He cracked his knuckles in annoyance at the thought of this and continued to think. He would've dozed off if not for the sound of the secretary's voice beckoning him to her desk. "Mr. Rouch, you're needed now in Mr. Dymburg's office. Third door on your…"

"Right? Yeah I know. Thanks Sally." He saluted his goodbye and shoved his hands in his pockets, making his way down the hall.

The pitiful fake plants aligning the hallway did nothing to ease the mood whatsoever. If anything, they reminded him a lot of… "You wanted to see me?" He remembered to call before entering, respectfully seating himself right after. The large office chair across from him spun to reveal his boss, Mr. Dymburg, patiently awaiting. He was a statured man with piercing, cold, and even unnatural gray eyes. "Mm, yes. Good to see you Damon. How's your mother?" It was the same greeting every time.

"She's great sir. Health improving, and enjoying her new cat."

"Is she now? Good… Excellent… Heh. Alright, I'm sure you've been watching the news."

With a simple gesture, a flat screen descended behind him and the blinds to the large glass windows shut. "Take a look at this." He didn't wait for a response and turned to the news, which was sharing facts about a late night robbery of the Dymburg Museum of Ancient National Treasury. He turned it up when the description of the crooks was released, along with poor visual video from a nearby observer. There was little known about the boy who police suspected ditched the scene soon after his partner was discovered, but it seems the woman was no ordinary criminal. Mr. Dymburg paused the video as it showed her breaking through the glass roof, large purple wings streaking behind her. She was tan, roughly under 6 foot, she had short white hair and wore a tight cat suit with a hot pink chest plate. Though probably bullet proof, it appeared to leave quite a bit of unprotected skin. Her breasts were no doubt safe and sound… "I want her dead." The statement interrupted his wondering thoughts.

"Sir?"

"You know… Dead? Gone? Not alive? Kill her for heaven's sake! She's your next target. I'm tired of her stealing my things, it's the twentieth time too many. You'll find all information on her in the files here." He passed over a heavy envelope and looked into Damon's eyes. "Don't take this lightly, she's highly skilled and has had her fair share with killing, much like yourself. She used to work for me.. That bitch is doing herself no favors!" The angry man slammed his fists on his desk, knocking over a heavy glass paperweight. Damon's reflexes helped to catch it before it hit the ground and place it back carefully.

"I won't let you down." He stood up abruptly , and with the heavy promise left to hang in the air, he walked out in silence. He was followed by the sound of that glass paperweight being thrown across the room the moment he had stepped out. Something was definitely up but he wouldn't have to worry about it for too long, he had a job to do.

Muuuuuuch shorter chapter, shortest in the story actually so don't feel let down! I'll keep working! I hope you like this mystery man~