The man in dark clothes watched silently as Erik left the restaurant. He leant back against the building across the street, concealed by the crowd that flowed between them. Erik may have become adept at blending into the background, but it was nothing compared to the years he himself had spent honing the skills of discreet surveillance.
The man's eyes followed Erik as he walked down the street and out of sight. His disappearance didn't bother the man - he already knew where Erik lived, down to the exact flat and even which window looked out from his bedroom. There was no point rushing, not when he was getting paid for his time, and when he knew exactly where his target was.
There was still a price on Erik's deformed head, after all.
The man ran his fingers along the edges of the phone in his pocket, considering calling the Shah to update him on Erik's whereabouts. The Shah was paying him good money by the day in the simple certainty that the man would be working in his interests. And he was - his loyalty had been well bought and continually rewarded. The man had been doing some digging into one of the Shah's competitors who operated out of Paris, when he had heard a type of music he had only ever known to come from one person. Following the clues had been easy, and had led him straight to one of the few people ever to escape the Shah's influence. Erik may have improved his mask and changed his surname, but he did not easily fade from memory.
The man decided against calling his employer and pulled his empty hand away from his pocket. Any communication was always a risk: Never leave a trail, his mind whispered like a mantra. His loyalty would be worth nothing if he jeopardised the Shah. Besides, he was an adult. His skill for getting rid of problems effectively and quietly was one of the reasons he earned such a high wage. He was trusted because he put out fires before they ever even bothered his boss.
A dark smile pulled at the man's lips, though he still drew no attention from those around him. He was good at his job, and after this bonus mission was done, he would make a tidy profit. What did it matter if he delayed a few weeks or months before returning home? His absence would hardly worry the Shah, and he was in for a large reward when he returned with news of his success.
The man pushed away from the wall and began heading away from the restaurant, back to an inconspicuous room in an inconspicuous hotel. He made a mental note of the restaurant, committing everything about the scene to memory, from the location to the customers to the little blonde waitress Erik had seemed so absorbed with. She was certainly a potential way into his life.
He knew Erik was paranoid and reclusive, and smart to boot. He would not be able to get close enough to catch the bounty easily, yet it did seem the boy had begun to slip up already. Making a name for himself, wandering around in public, making friends… Perhaps this would be simple after all.
The man strolled along, invisible in his normalcy. He mused over a multitude of plots and schemes as he walked, but one ending was certain in his mind: Erik was going to die.