Itâs fairly simple, he canât spend his days always sitting on roofs, taking up the top floor of an abandoned condo project that lost funding. His good looks are a rouse â heâs not actually dumb enough to think shooting people in broad daylight is the best way to get a job done.Â
Itâs a fun way but not the smartest way.
Heâs given a picture, an invite to the event and a vial.
A long time ago, he was into vibrant colors and soft material. A closet of nothing but tracksuits and sweatpants, t-shirts with pop culture references or luxury brands - he was a walking billboard. He traded that for tactical pants and the standard t-shirt given to him for PT. Heâs got a good body for a suit but the only one he tolerates is his dress blues. Heâs a chameleon, he wears the skin they want him to and doesnât complain. Plus he canât catch her attention the way he wants looking like a propaganda model for the American military system. David knows how to read a room.Â
A lot of lies, cocksure smirks behind champagne flutes, piano music under the murmurs of the countries eliteâs pissing contests. Thatâs all these events really are, show up in your nicest garb, and talk about your latest business venture, that big donation to a charity that only exists for tax purposes. David is too good looking to be a waiter at one of these so heâs posed himself as one of them, spewing off tales about falling asleep in the Blue Grotto on a two-person rowboat and waking up with a crick in his neck, nights in Tokyo that seemed to never end. David has his audience enthralled, her in particular, which helps in his favor, sheâs making his job just that easier by hanging off of his every word and she doesnât even realize it.Â
The crowd naturally begins to disperse, leaving her lingering. Sheâs beautiful, David notices, very much aware of the subtle grab for the nape of her neck, scratching the side of her neck to show off the tan line of where a nice rock used to rest. Sheâs beautiful, newly divorced and posed for a hefty settlement her ex-husband does not want to pay so naturally instead of paying her to leave him alone, he uses that same money to get rid of her altogether. David could care less about the lack of logic in the situation, he just goes where heâs paid to. He sweet talks her into following him to the bar, keeping her attention on everything but his arm sliding behind them onto the bar top, vial no longer than his pinky finger being emptied into her glass.Â
She thinks itâs the liquor thatâs hitting her harder than usual, the wobble in her ankles, her grip on the lapels of his jacket as he all but drags them to the womenâs room, forcing her to finish her drink, she begins to seize in his arms. He watches her fall, convulsing on the floor until she suddenly goes still; David crouches down, watches the light dim slowly in her eyes, leather gloved fingers push her eyelids down. Sheâs beautiful, David notices again.Â
Confidence and exhibitionism do not go hand in hand, despite what many people would believe. Heâs damn good at his job, he enjoys it. Maybe a little too much but that doesnât mean he needs an audience critiquing his work. It throws him off of his game and he either ends up does too much or even worse: the bare minimum and gets branded boring. David would rather be called over the top than boring, anything but boring.Â
He pulls his gloves off as he stands to his full height, only turning his head when heâs questioned.
âUh,â he clears his throat. âWellâŚâ Protocol calls for extra disposal when needed but tonight can only have one freak accident, there would need more planning in advance if he has someone as high profile as the heiress. Is that David being boring? âI thought this was the menâs room and --â he gestures at the dead body. âYep.âÂ
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