Judge, Jury, Executioner {Pantastic_Panda | Sydney}

January 1, 2015

Alexander Harrison

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It was late in the evening when Alex arrived at the nightclub where business was usually conducted between him and his current employer. The big, glowing "LAX" letters were passed as Alex took the back entrance into the nightclub, hoping to avoid the regulars and drunken patrons. He mulled over the offer he'd gotten a number of times, to work full time for the man who was currently sending him off to kill some random person a few times a week for a decent amount of money. That would mean giving up a lot of the freedom Alex had been working towards, something he was very disinclined to do at the moment. He slid past one of the upper floor bouncers, the ones guarding the office upstairs, hidden from the noise and chaos of the rest of the club.

Once inside he scanned over the room, spotting his employer, an aging middle aged man who exuded wealth and power, someone Alex would like to remain on the good side of for many reasons. The man gestured to the seat across from him, greeting Alex joyfully as if he were some long lost relative. His employer liked to keep his underlings, Alex included, close he'd found of the year or so he'd been working for him. The man went on about something or other, social niceties and all that, which Alex nodded and forced a convincing smile in response to when needed. Alex hated interacting with people, but did a decent job of acting like a normal person in front of them. Eventually, the man got to the point and slid an envelop across the desk over to Alex. The envelope contained the details on a man called "Dr. Mordecai" and a few disturbing experiments he'd been doing in some private lab.

Alex's employer didn't care about the experiments, only that Mordecai hadn't paid him for the lab space or anything like that and was several months passed due. Alex nodded, understanding that he'd probably have to collect anything of value after he'd killed Mordecai to bring back to make up for the lost money. It sounded like an easy Job, Mordecai himself looked to be roughly forty something, certainly not in his fifties, but much to grey and tired looking to pass for thirty something. In other words, he didn't look like someone who could put up much of a fight. The folder also had a blueprint of the laboratory, giving Alex a general idea of how to navigate his way through to find and kill the doctor.

"Have you offered this job to anyone else?" Alex asked, conversationally, thinking of a long standing rival. "I mean, you know who I'm referring to, correct?"

January 13, 2015

Oliver Jamison:

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The glowing letters of the LAX sign briefly flickered as Oliver approached the front entrance of the club. He hadn't intended on going inside, but the latest information he received was worth a celebratory drink if not two. Oxford shoes disturbed the small puddles that had collected from the morning rain. The sound of his brisk pace occasionally broken by that of a passing car or the hum of the city nightlife.

A General Practitioner turned Surgeon after letting his imagination get the best of him. Most of the information gathered revolved around rumors of body modification, a series of abductions and hormonal experiments. Strangely enough, Oliver was more interested in the new target's research when he was first approached by an employer, one that he had accepted many assignments from. To him, this "Dr. Modecai" was an intriguing subject and he never got tired of collecting the details. Missed payments were also unacceptable, but his focus was on learning as much as he could about this strange doctor. As Oliver entered the club he checked in his coat, calmly insisting to the coat check attendant that he continue wearing his fedora.

Once his coat ticket was carefully tucked into one of the front pocket of his slim fit dress pants, he eased his way through the crowd toward the bar. Social gatherings like these were welcoming, much lighter than his working situation. He could mentally organize the leads he received while striking a casual conversation with the bartender. One glass of Blackberry Mint Julep, carefully paced, saving the blueberry for last and savored as usual. The chatter around him rose to a buzzing noise, smiling at the smallest bit of information he was able to hear from those trying to pick up someone to take home for the night. Promises of a wonderful evening. Boasting about the material things that they didn't own without knowing that Oliver was listening.

"Excuse me," he began, sighing contently as he placed the empty glass on the polished counter. Oliver took the moment to clear his throat. "I happen to be looking for someone, and I was wondering if you saw a strange fellow?" He described that the man he was looking for was slightly taller than himself, strange colored eyes and a black themed outfit. With a small chuckle he traced the rim of the glass with his left index finger. Amber eyes cast up at the bartender as he continued. "He's a friend of sorts, and I haven't seen him in a while."

January 13, 2015

"I might've passed the case around a bit." The man behind the desk said, waving his arm in a lazy manner that implied he didn't think it mattered that much. "Maybe I know who you're talking about, maybe I don't. Don't worry about it, if you kill him first the payment's all yours."

Alex stared at his current employer, pondering the situation. The man seemed to like Alex well enough, though having to compete with others was slowly beginning to get on his nerves just a bit. Turning and looking for work elsewhere might not be the best idea as this man was affiliated with a larger organization Alex didn't want to piss off. That and the only other group with reliable assassination contracts was a group he parted with on less than friendly terms. In any case, as much as he was starting to hate it, this was the best he could do for now.

"I see..." Alex replied, his voice crackling like dried leaves."Is there anything else I should now about Mordecai, or should I do my own investigative work? ...I do hope no one else gets in the way, with all the people who might also be working this case."

Grinning, the man assessed Alex over the top of his glass of amber colored fluid. He couldn't help but admire the kid's work ethic, though at times he was absolutely sure he was grating on Alex's nerves even if the red eyed assassin didn't show it outwardly. He doubted Alex would turn to other's in the underworld for his assignments, though that was largely because he was well aware of Alex's history and his departure from the organization that kept him on a metaphorical (occasionally literal) leash for a number of years.

"Relax, it's just you and one other guy I've offered this to the other day. We don't have much else on the Doc, if you want to snoop around that's your business." Again, the man seemed entirely nonchalant about it all. "Maybe you should have a drink downstairs, live a little before you get too old."

Alex, for his part, looked hesitant. Then again, he was rather fond of a few of the house specials, mostly the bartender's mimosas (Alex was absolutely sure the man working the bar most evenings was familiar enough with him to recognize a general description). Looking impassive and almost bored, he shrugged.

"I guess I'll do that, you want expect Mordecai dead by the end of the week." With those parting words, Alex left the upstairs office/lounge room and wandered down into the main part of the upscale nightclub. Feeling entirely uncomfortable, he worked on approaching the bar, only to stop at the sight of greenish looking hair. He frowned, ready to turn and leave early, orange, fruity drinks forgotten.

January 13, 2015

"So you're choosing to ignore me?" Oliver questioned, a pinch of disappointment in his voice before ordering another round of his blackberry beverage. He eyed the back of the man cleaning a glass from across the bar. Noticing the broadness of his shoulder, the tip of a bicep tattoo that peeked out from underneath the LAX employee t-shirt that he wore, even that he seemed to equally favor both hands as he worked. Once his drink was finally prepared, Oliver caught a glimpse of the ID tag that the bartender had pinned to one of the belt loops on his jeans. The name 'Anthony', a small profile image and what appeared to be a bar code of sorts.

"Here you go," Anthony's voice was a little gruff and raspy, not making eye contact put facing forward as he started to clean the previous glass that Oliver ordered. His brows furrowed with concentration, but being able to multitask was part of his usual job description. "About that guy you described." he started, pausing to set the glass on the drying rack. Anthony leaned over the bar, elbows on the surface and shifting his weight onto one leg to listen to the customer.

Oliver took the brief pause to take a leisurely drink, releasing another satisfied noise before letting Anthony continue. "He's stopped by the bar quite a few times. Orders mimosas, kinda quiet and doesn't really talk much. I don't think I've even heard five words from the guy's mouth. He might be here, thought I don't know where he is exactly." His mouth opened to say something more, but the raised hand of a different customer stole his attention from the young informant.

Hearing that prompted Oliver to think that the man he knew hadn't changed much, that he would still be able to recognize him. Thinking that gave him a feeling of ease as he lifted the cool glass to lips. A reunion would prove to be quite interesting. How long had it been since they last saw each other? Training days would have been too long ago. Surely Oliver had seen him since then, but he couldn't pinpoint an exact day or year.

"Now I don't have to tell you where he is," the bartender's voice broke the informants train of thoughts, quickly jerking his head to the side at the sight of the man in question. Oliver acknowledged the hint to turn, noticing the person he had been looking for. His lips spread into a thin, lopsided smirk as he reached up with his right hand to tip his hat in Alex's direction and revealing the red streak of hair in his bangs.

"Glad to see you finally showed up. I was getting a little worried there." Oliver called out with a bit of tease. His attention then momentarily turned to a spot next to him, signaling that he wanted the other to come a little closer. "Perhaps we could catch up over a drink? Unless, that is, you have other plans."

January 13, 2015

Generally speaking, Alex had a penchant for fruity, 'girly' kinds of drinks, though he'd taken to orange-ish flavors in the last few years. It was kind of a long, odd, and slightly personal story, one Alex probably wouldn't be inclined to discuss with anyone. He debated with himself for a moment, wondering if he should bear it and get the mildly alcoholic beverage, go elsewhere for one of subpar quality, or simply go home and sleep the night off.

Actually, Alex recalled he had a few things to do that night before retiring to bed. In his head he listed off the specific items requested and wondered how long it would take to complete two batches of sedative - in pill form - and numbing medications - in topical cream form. It was likely not something that would take too long and since Alex didn't really have anything to do right away the next morning it wouldn't be a huge problem for him to stay up a bit later to work on his side projects.

Watching for a moment, still trying to decide, Alex noted the bartender's subtle head movement and decided against tipping the guy after that. Blank as ever he regarded Oliver with mild distaste, or maybe apprehension, he wasn't really sure how to describe the feeling. Alex just stared at Oliver in his usual fashion, giving nothing away though he was already tempted to walk off without a word. Only...the lopsided smirk felt too much like a challenge and Alex was already too irritated to merely go home and lose himself in work or sleep.

"Obviously I have other plans." Alex quipped, his voice dull and monotonous as he approached and plopped down into the seat beside Oliver. "Not all of us can sit and drink the night away." He slouched, resting his elbows on the counter, clearly not caring if it was rude or sloppy looking. "Worried. As if there'd be anything to worry about."

Grimacing a moment later, Alex recalled the last year or so. There had been the thing with his last partner, Dave, which left both of them injured and Alex recovering from a gruesome stab wound on the back of his hand. His eyes drifted to the hand in question, the scarred flesh concealed by the leather of his gloves. After that spat Alex ran into trouble, sort of fell for someone and lost them, only to end up back here with Dave's (of all people) help. The hand was the worst injury, with a dislocated shoulder and a broken wrist two other injuries that followed. All in all, Alex was fully recovered, if not a bit more prickly than he'd been before.

January 18, 2015

Feeling a little satisfied after getting his attention, Oliver carefully replaced the hat on his head and fully turned to face the bar once more. Anthony was once again busy assisting another customer, but would always return to those sitting at the bar who needed another drink. As the other sat down he turned his head towards him, nodding in acknowledgement and taking the time to adjust his hat to a more comfortable position. Too much eye contact would probably make things awkward. Too little would probably be shady.

"Given our lives, why shouldn't one worry?" he asked, mostly out of curiosity. Though their lives were different, the paths have been just as hard. The start of a casual conversation was something to enjoy. Moments worth relaxing over for a brief period of time. For him, the past few years have been filled with crunching data and choosing select targets to kill to remain within the faction. Oliver primarily worked alone to avoid the risk of mishaps, faulty planning and the possibility of additional baggage. If he were to mess up on an assignment the responsibility would be his alone. Although, he would admit to recently being neglectful of his mentoring. Perhaps tomorrow he would pay his pupil a visit. This time he would bring a gift and apologize for chasing leads. A decision he pondered over while taking another drink of his blueberry flavored beverage.

Oliver couldn't help but glance at Alex from the corner of his eye, brow raising out of awareness as he noted the other man looking down at his hand. Public places such as these weren't the best for business related conversations. Too many ears, too many eyes. "I'm guessing you've been busy, Alexander." he concluded while keeping his usually calm tone, choosing to use the full version of his name to avoid being too familiar. Oliver resisted the natural urge to ask about the hand, deciding it would be best to leave that for another day.

"If you don't mind me asking," he paused, crossing his left leg over his right, elbows propped on the table, shoulder's shifted forward and chin propped on intertwined fingers. He then decided to choose his words carefully to avoid looking over his shoulder and searching for possible eavesdroppers. "but, do you remember when I had to pay a visit to the infirmary back when we started training?" Oliver's amber gaze shifted to stare at the nearly empty glass before him, quietly waiting for a response.

February 4, 2015

"For one, we're not exactly close friends." Alex said, his voice carrying no malice nor the slightest hint of humor. For the red eyed brunette it was a simple statement of fact as far as he was concerned. Alex tried not to think too hard about the last year, of the years prior. He certainly didn't want to think at all about his early years, all the while he was unsure if Oliver realized that the small reminder was like twisting an ever present knife in a gushing wound. Then again, Alex was never all that open about his thoughts or feelings, so there had never been any indication of what did or did not bother Alex. "And why worry about the inevitable. At some point something, somewhere is going to go wrong and one of us will end up dead."

Eyes boring down at the back of his glove, Alex thought long and hard about his most recent partner. The wound hadn't been life threatening, though there had been a real concern over whether or not it would cripple him. In the end, Alex concluded that the injury had been a mix of revenge and an attempt at getting him out of this lifestyle. The scar, while narrow, was still deep and ached from time to time. If Alex recalled correctly, normally he did, it had been one of his own knives that had been used. Ever since then he'd been more diligent in keeping them hidden away or on his person.

"Not all that clearly." Alex answered after a moment of consideration. It was a long time ago and not exactly something Alex had filed away into his mind as important or relevant to himself. "I can't be expected to remember every time you got a minor flesh wound or paper cut." If Alex were the sort to communicate like a normal person, or even make an attempt at changing his tone or pitch, his words would have sounded more like an attempt at humor. Given Alex's cold delivery it sounded more like an attempt at a callous jab. "Maybe it would help if you mentioned the specifics?"

April 2, 2015

Oliver inhaled sharply before releasing a soft chuckle. "The sting never gets old." He half murmured to himself. As the silence took hold he filled his mind with the conversation around them. The conversations were not all that interesting, but information was information nonetheless. If there was one thing that Oliver had learned over the yeas, it was that small details were very valuable. For the right cost, that was.

"Well I, for one," he paused, using his right hands to finish off the remaining contents of his glass. "will live a life of no regrets." If he had been fully aware, he would have remembered that most of the people in their profession did not life happy lives. Assassin's died alone or in vain. Some even died without carrying out their mission. But, at that moment in time, Oliver fully believed every word he had said. As if indicating a change in pace, he reached up and quietly tilted his hat. Placing it more to the right instead of being centered.

"Mind you, it wasn't a mere paper cut." His amber gaze shifted to look at the dark haired from his peripheral before returning to the bar. Oliver noticed that Alex was still favoring the gloved hand with attention, reflecting the precious mental memo he made earlier. If he spoke abstractly, would the other understand? Given this public setting he couldn't release the full details of what he knew. Then again, how could he be sure that the man next to him knew? "Specifics?" That was enough to make the informant believe that Alex knew something, but he could easily be wrong.

"If I may be briefly honest, I have an appointment with a certain practitioner." He stressed, shifting to judge Alex's reaction for signs for understanding. A test, in other words. "I hear he's always looking for new clients, and I've been having a particular ache as of late."

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