The imp sighed before he entered the room. His expression fixed to look as unbothered, confident, but not removed from his actions as much as possible. His hat removed in an attempt to show 'respect' and pull the act all together as he entered, and stood before the overlord.
"The target got away, sir. Injured, but not dead."
SO USED to success after success and Striker’s impeccable skills, the Overlord didn’t pay much attention to him when he beckoned him inside the office. He was still reading over a few papers on his desk, however he straightened up and his eyes shot up at the imp, peering at him from above rose-tinted shades, already half-expecting the Imp’s next words. Yet, when what he heard turned out to be wildly different he lost any crumb of interest left in the words printed black on white. The hand holding the cigarette holder over the ashtray and lazily tracing circles in the air came to a halt, smoke turning from spirals into a long, immutable column rising to the ceiling and disappearing before even brushing against it. Valentino’s attention must have felt like a hurricane heading directly to Striker, a sword of Damocles dangling faster and faster, inches away from coming down like a guillotine.
The target had been no bigwig, luckily. Truth be told, there was barely anyone with enough power and resources to pose an actual threat to Val’s empire, but he’d rather get rid of any fucker before they became too big-headed. Buy their trust or get rid of them entirely. That was why he had hired Striker in the first place, a deal unbeknownst to everyone - ans so far the Imp had never disappointed him, taking every target down as perfectly and cleanly as the previous one. Failure had never been contemplated, not even as remote possibility. Not until now. And even the workers at the bottom of the studio hierarchy knew their boss’ opinion on failure.
He didn’t burst into a full-fledged outburst of rage, but all the telltale signs were there. His eyes narrowed just enough to be brighter (and perhaps brighter they were indeed, irises like wildfires glowing unnaturally) and when he spoke, his voice was on the edge of turning into a different sound - a buzzing, like hundreds and hundreds of bugs crawling and chirping till they created a whole new voice.
