Another city, another contract

Another city, another contract. The hitman had been hired in some unimportant, grungy city south of Nachton to travel here, and terminate a certain police officer named “Robert Wood”. Revenge, probably; the employer wanted a fairly gruesome proof of the termination: Robert’s scalp. Some of his ‘esteemed’ colleagues would probably speculate about the ‘why’ of this, but to Khalid it was just another factor to take into account. On a more personal level, it even managed to amuse him a bit; it had been many centuries ago that an employer of his requested something like this.

Even if Khalid had never scalped before, it wouldn’t have bothered him one bit. Being an assassin, a Vampiric assassin no less, had it’s fringe benefits, in the form of seeing enough Hollywood-style gore, made real, to fill a Human’s lifetime, several films, a library of books and even leaving spare encounters untold.

The only thing that bothered the assassin about this extra ‘scalp clause’, was that he would have to find a way to deposit the fresh scalp, without it causing too much suspicion.

It was like this: the employer was paranoid to such a level, that all communications went through a mailbox his employer had hired at the local post office. Only the very first contact had Khalid heard his employer...through a voice scrambler. The assassin had no way of knowing when the employer himself or some hired goon would empty the mailbox, so that meant that if he’d just drop the scalp in the mailbox, the thing could be rotting before being picked up and discovered.

If Khalid hated something vehemently, it was discovery. He had left no traces all these centuries, even with new-fangled techniques like DNA research, and had no intent whatsoever to have that changed.

As soon as Khalid had figured out how to treat the scalp, he started with a long observation of the target. That way, he learned everything about the target’s behaviourally patterns and most, if not all, weaknesses in those patterns. For instance, the assassin had noted that the target’s strong believe in the supernatural, although based in reality, had alienated him from his colleagues and social live in general. The target was practically a lost soul, a hermit, alone in a city filled with people.

Khalid hadn’t been close enough to see the target’s actual work, but from the incredible regularity of the target’s coming and going at the police station, he surmised that the target had been demoted to a desk job long ago, which may or may not had anything to do with what his Human superiors no doubt called delusions. The target got in at exactly nine o’ clock in the morning, and left at exactly five o’ clock in the evening. It was seldom the case that when Khalid returned to his post, coming directly from his room at a nearby motel, that the target had already left.

---

Khalid entered the bar that was attached to the motel where he was staying for the duration of his latest assignment, from the dark and cold of the Municipal Center at night, into the warm glow of the establishment’s flickering lights. Said illumination was pretty much the only thing that was somewhat warm and inviting; as usual, the rest of the often cautious and sometimes gritty patrons looked at the Vampire with thinly veiled distrust. Only a few, those who didn’t know any better and had a foolish outlook on live, looked at the Vampire somewhat friendly, more neutral.

The only one smiling was the Human bartender and as he approached the bar, the Human was mixing something, which was something Khalid was used to, as the assassin had never seen the bartender not mix something since he had walked through the door two weeks ago. The assassin bought a beer, sat down at a corner table, and started to think.

Khalid was completely certain that further observation of the target was useless; there was nothing more to be learned. The Vampire had studied all he needed to know of the sewers and had purchased a small icebox to put the scalp in. Arrakis was ready for making the kill.

All that was left was his meditation. The Vampire looked at the glass in his hands. He had emptied, unknowingly. Khalid stood up, left a tip with the glass, to seem normal, walked through the bar into the motel proper and disappeared into his room, not to be seen by motel personnel again before twenty-four hours had passed.

One time they had tried to call him over the phone system and one time they had send a maid, but both incidents had caused a minor riot, so they had accepted Khalid was a bit quaint.

---

When Khalid was done with his meditation, he was ready. Not simply ready, but one hundred percent and then some ready. The last few nights had been routine, but this night was different. Tonight, Robert Wood, his target, would be terminated.

All the time to the moment the assassin managed to sneak onto the roof of one of the buildings across the Nachton Police Department, he thought of the night ahead, perfectly aided by his time spend meditating. He would make his move, perform the termination, wrap up loose ends, and started the trip to the next city worthy of notice.

He laid down there, making sure he couldn't be seen from the streets, but could see the front door of the police building. Time started to pass down. Tonight was special for more than one reason; the reason tonight was the night, and not some other night. The police men celebrated: one of their number had been in the force for exactly twenty years, and even Khalid’s target apparently stayed somewhat longer, probably standing all by himself in a corner. No doubt dulling his senses with liquor. Perfect.

It was when the Vampire would’ve been frozen in the nightly cold, had he been Human, that his target left. Grinning, baring his fangs, an unusual display of emotion for Khalid, he watched, observing his target entering a street, the same street he had entered after work the last couple of weeks.

Fast as lightning, almost literally, the assassin got down to the streets, and started to follow his target, just able to see him go around another corner. The next few hours, the cat followed the mouse. It wasn’t that hard; there were few times that he was in danger of being spotted by his target. At last, they arrived at the house, a few blocks away.

When Khalid was sure the man had entered his home, he walked around the house, through some surrounding alleys, reconfirming the location of the nearest sewer entrance. After checking if it was still accessible, he returned again, ready for more waiting.

And waiting, he did. It was another hour before Khalid was sure his target slept. After that, it was simple. He picked the lock of the backdoor, and searched the ground level until he had the original key. Then, he sneaked upstairs, simply slitting the target's throat with his kopesh, which he always carried with him. He was lucky the man was single; a wife and perhaps a child would have complicated matters, would have entered more factors into the equation.

Now, to make sure the rest of the police wouldn’t catch on for a long, long time, Khalid performed several steps, some steps that had worked quite well throughout his time as a hitman. First, he drained Robert of all his blood; this not only made sure Khalid wouldn’t need to feed for some time, but it also made sure there wasn’t any blood to spill in the next step.

Which was that the assassin grabbed the body, and carried it down, through the alley, and dumped it in the sewers for the time being. Then, he took the key, and made sure all the outside doors of the house of the police officer were locked.

Then, he returned to the sewers, and started a long journey through the stinking underbelly of the city. After moving with the body for as long as he could without risking being faced by the sun when he’d emerge from the sewers, he held still.

Khalid knew that sooner or later, Robert Wood’s body would be found. That of what remained of him at that point, could not betray either his involvement in the assassination or the existence of Vampires. The puncture wounds of his fangs would be found very strange, as would the absence of blood or blood trails. He couldn’t and wouldn’t help the latter, but for the former...For the former, he carved the punctured piece of flesh out of the man’s neck. He’d deposit it in a trashcan far from here; the chance they’d connect the two things, or even notice the piece of flesh, was negligible.

The last part of the deal was upon Khalid: the assassin scalped the man, and left for his motel room, where the small icebox awaited. The Vampire had brought along a plastic bag; that would have to do for now. “Poor Robert”, someone would be thinking before soon. But not the assassin.

---

Khalid looked at the moon. Yesterday, he had finished up the contract where he was in Nachton for and strictly speaking, there was nothing in the city that kept him here. The payment would be deposited on his bank account. Still, for the first time in centuries, he felt like settling for a while. Mostly because of a Clan Anantya Elder he had heard about; a certain Mai. A little bat had told him they were somewhat comparable and, well, if she was as Khalid hoped, she could teach him about the Art of War.

He looked at the moon again. There was always time for a little studying and he turned towards the road that would, eventually, lead him to the Japanese Gardens of Heolfor Manor.

(OOC: I’m done here; please lock it.)