The Assignment

The hallway was empty, and every step he made resulted in a deafening crunch that seemed to reverberate off the walls. The hit man looked around, his dark eyes narrowed as he analyzed every aspect of the corridor. The walls were artistically tasteless, despite his assignment’s high income the man couldn’t distinguish between real art and just contemptible substitutes. As he neared closer to the door, he pulled out a long strand of twine, wrapped up tightly. Usually the man preferred his silent handgun, but his client insisted he used the tool. He stepped quietly inside the bedroom and surveyed his surroundings. Everything was dark, it being close to one in the morning. His assignment was up however, typing on his computer with his back to his own approaching fate. The hit man couldn’t help but shake his head at the simplicity of the target. It was easy money and a fast job, the man was finished in a matter of minutes. He left then, leaving his assignment slumped at his office chair. He left no trace at all, the police would be baffled. The man quietly slipped out the front door, and headed out into the cold night.

Alex Statham strolled into the headquarters confidently. He was dressed head-to-toe in Armani, and his cropped haircut was all in place. He found that women preferred him with a closely shaved head, and he was always willing to please the ladies. He entered his superior’s office without knocking, as he was accustomed to doing. “Good day, Alex. Hope you enjoyed yourself in France, Mr. Cummings sends his compliments.” Alex nodded briskly, and his boss motioned to a chair, which he refused to acknowledge. “It was a clean job.” He told him, raising his eyebrows as a subtle sign of compliment. “You’re the best we have, Alex. Do you know how much money that man brought in?” His boss was talking about Mr. Edward Devareux, his previous assignment. “Yeah, I’m aware of that, Michael.” He said curtly. “And where’s my share of it?” Michael slid an envelope across the glass table. “It’s all there, all fifty-one thousand of it.” Alex picked up the envelope and casually put it in his suit jacket. “And to think all I had to do was a quick wrap and slip.” Michael raised his eyebrows amusedly. “I understand it’s your day off. I’ll see you tomorrow with your next assignment.” He nodded, and the hit man headed for the door. “Oh, and Alex?” He turned back around to face his boss. “Nice suit.”

Alex sped down the streets of London in his black Porsche convertible. It was a bright day, and the man felt he needed a drink already. He was meeting a close friend of his at a stylish restaurant down the road, and with a look at his Rolex knew he was already late. Luckily Ruben Danvers was a forgiving man. At 6’7 and a stature that could intimidate almost anyone, the man had a surprising profession. He was a media production manager while also being a full-time dad with a membership to the Harley Owners Group. He stood up as Alex entered, causing some to turn and marvel at his size. The two shared a brotherly hug, then seated themselves at the table. “Alex, it’s good to see you.” He beamed, then turned and ordered a screwdriver from the pretty waitress. Alex ordered a gin and tonic, and the waitress smiled and turned to saunter over to the bar. “Sorry I’m late, Ruben. I was at the office.” The big man laughed, a deep hearty noise that he made often. “How is the business?” Alex grinned. “You mean the insurance sales? Just brilliant.” He laughed again. “Of course. I’m guessing by the looks of that flashy suit, you nailed a good one.”
“Probably the best.” The two men were lifelong friends, Ruben had always been there to cover his back, and Alex wished one day he could return the favor. He would give his life for the man, but that would be nothing in comparison for all the times Ruben had gotten him out of a tight spot. “How’s your wife?” Ruben nodded. “Great, poor little Amy has the chicken pox, Sharon had to take off and stay with her.”
“And the film industry?”
“Bleh, those actors and their needs. Just the other day Jude Law asked me to fetch him a coffee, decaf with extra sugar. He even had the nerve to snap his fingers in my face. I said look buddy, just because I’m American doesn’t mean I don’t own your ass right now. Crazy Brits, no offense.” Alex chuckled and shook his head. “None taken.”

The waitress returned with the drinks, and Alex took a moment to stare at her before she blushed and turned around. Ruben watched her hurry back to the kitchen. “Still a ladies’ man, eh? You never knew how to settle.” Alex took a sip of his drink. “Still don’t,” he said in his thick native accent. Ruben ran his hand through his graying hair, “So what’s your plans for today? You know the football game is on tonight at Eddie’s, Manchester is going up against Brazil. It’s gonna be a good one, you in?”
“Wouldn’t miss it, I haven’t seen Eddie in awhile either, be nice to catch up.”
“Indeed.” The two men got up from the table after Alex insisted on taking the bill. They shook hands, and Alex looked at his friend’s arm, impressed. “Ah, you got a new one! Nice.” Ruben looked at his fresh tattoo proudly. “Thanks, it’s a Japanese tiger, got it over there a few weeks ago. Amy loves it, she always says her daddy’s got a kitty on his arm. Not good for the reputation, you know.” The two men laughed and headed for the door. “Well I’m off to get my bike detailed. Thanks for lunch, Alex. Where are you headed?” Alex motioned back to the restaurant. “Well, I’m getting her number first.”

He walked back into the restaurant, immediately catching the waitress’s eye. “Back so soon?” Her voice purred. “Just back for dessert.” He flashed his super-white smile at her. She raised her eyebrows seductively. “I go on my lunch break in five minutes. Meet me in the back room, no one will see us there.” She ran off then, probably to apply a fresh coat of lipstick or to borrow a condom from a friend, whatever the hell it was women did right before having sex in the middle of the day. It was short notice, but Alex was restless, it had been a long time since he enjoyed a good fuck.

He saw the girl slip into the back room, and he quickly followed, his instinct’s instructing him to scan the room first and make sure no one was witness. The room was completely empty, save for a desk, a refrigerator, and a very appealing couch. Alex assumed it was the breakroom, where the employees went to have a smoke or what not. Or a spontaneous sexual encounter, Alex thought to himself. The waitress turned back to him, rubbing her body against his as she went to lock the door. “No one comes in here anyways.” She muttered, but was immediately silence by his strong kiss. In minutes their clothes were off and she was up on the desk, her legs wrapped around Alex as he thrusted into her faster and faster. He knew just where to hit, what would really make her moan. He found himself coming nearer to his climax. She came before he did, but he refused to stop until he had satisfied himself. At last the pair collapsed to the floor, the waitress’s legs still wrapped around his muscular torso. “That- was unbelievable.” The waitress gasped for air. Alex wiped his brow. “Why, thank you.” She stood up hurriedly then, adjusting her hair back into a bun and slipping back into her clothes. “I have to get back to work. See you around.” With a wink she was gone, back out to service others in a not as satisfying way. Alex stood up as well, getting back into his suit, meticulously brushing out the wrinkles. He liked it that way, no personal connection whatsoever, a temporary quest for pleasure that was quickly accomplished.

Night fell quickly, and soon the clubs and bars were open, welcoming the city’s nightlife. Alex slipped on a navy blazer and walked out of his home, a spacious high-rise located in London’s more high-end neighborhoods. He drove past the crowds lining up to get into the more selective nightclubs, and parked his Porsche right in front of Eddie’s. Despite being in between two of England’s most sought after hot spots, Eddie’s remained to be a creature comfort for laid back soccer fans and the long-time residents. Alex smiled in amusement when the Cheers song came into his head as people greeted him by his name. None of them knew who he truly was, he could only trust close confidants like Ruben with that sort of information. Though Alex didn’t consider his career to define him, he knew others would beg to differ. He killed for a living. Not something you would go home and brag to your mother about.

“Alex! You made it!” Ruben slapped his shoulder as he seated himself at the bar, facing a large plasma television. “Drinks on me tonight.” The men ordered a round of shots, and soon after Eddie came out of the back room. A rather strongly built man, people sometimes mistook the two as brothers. “Is that Alex Statham?” Alex stood up and shook Eddie’s hand. “By God! How long has it been, mate?”
“Not since I came back from the States. It’s good to see you, Ed.”
“Gentlemen, these shots are on me.” Eddie motioned to the bartender to provide the two with another round. "Glad to have you back, mate. I see you haven't changed a bit. Though, you must have gained a bit from all that American food." He grinned, the bartender always joked around, it was part of his amiable personality.
"Nice facial hair, Ed. You look like you just got out of prison."
The men laughed again as Eddie rubbed his thick shadow. “The ladies love the rough look, but you already know that, Mr. Suave. So Manchester’s up tonight. Oy, that Beckham is gonna kick their arses.”
“Yep, Brazil’s gonna go down by five by halftime.” Alex nudged Ruben on the arm. “You think so? Nah, Manchester will lag behind by two at first because of the new line up, but by halftime the play’s gonna kick into gear and they’ll pull ahead by four.”
“Nonsense. Brazil’s team is weak this year, and I’m putting 65 euros on it.”
“You’ve got yourself a wager, mate.” Alex shook him on it. “I don’t know, fellas.” Eddie said, looking up at the big screen. “It looks like it’s gonna be a long night for Manchester.”
“God, I hope so.” Alex said, and took another shot.

It was close to morning when Alex emerged out the bar, carrying a shot glass with 64 euros in it. He had a knack for sports predictions, and Ruben always failed to call it correctly. “He’s really got to work on that.” Alex chuckled to himself. “He’s just gonna keep losing money.” As much as he hated to face it, Alex had to get a few hours of sleep before he went back to the office. He hit the message playback button in his room as he was unchanging. A high-pitched female voice came on first. Carla. Next was followed by a huskier, more foreign one. Michelle. He shut it off and slipped into bed. There would be no visitors tonight, he had work to do.