The room was dark and the window was open. The man sat in his chair, watching the room intently. He stood, eyes closed, hands behind his back. He heard the screams. Vlad Masters didn't care, they where simply bait. Soon, the police would follow a trail of corpses leading to his door.
It creaked open slowly.
"You got a job for me?"
"Yes."
"Just give me who and when. I'll decide how much."
"If you succeed, I will give you anything you ask in payment." Vlad responded, half turning to face the girl. "Keep in mind, it won't be easy."
"I doubt that. Now, who's it going to be?"
The man picked up a file lying on a table by the fire. Above the fireplace, a picture of a football player was framed, and all around the room, there where photos' of other football related memorabilia. She turned to him, showing him her deep blue eyes. They where narrowed.
He tossed her a folder, pictures stuck out the sides. She took a quick peek.
"Jack Fenton." The assassin murmered.
Vlad turned around.
"One more thing, Elektra." He closed his eyes and rubbed his chin. "There's something you should know…He has a son…."
"Piece of cake." Elektra whispered, her red hair blowing against her pale face.
"He's…"
"Not to be harmed." She finished. "Don't worry about it."
There was a
sort of overlapping sound in her voice, and he turned. Elektra was
gone.
Vlad stepped to the window, and then looked down, noticing something sticky attaching to his shoe; a sort of thick liquid.
Pushing a button on the intercom, he heard a voice.
"Yes, Mr. Masters?"
"Miss Spencer, please get this mess in the hallway cleaned up."
"Mess, sir?" "Just a few bodies, nothing to get hyped up about."
"But, sir, its—"
Then the intercom died down, as did his fire, and Vlad was left alone in the blackness of his living room, pondering the meeting.