apathetic

     “Are you fucking kidding me right now? You want me to what?”

The red-violet eyed bodyguard was patient, silent.  The killer across from him was reluctant to give him a chance to talk now, anyway.  You struck a nerve, Nero.  Was it truly so wrong to imply that the man had some emotion hidden in the depths of his gut, even if it were for only one or two people?  Perhaps they weren’t too different, after all.  How many people had he cared for that had betrayed him?  It makes a man grow cold, certainly…  Hence why he considered himself a blizzard now–cool, calculating.  But at least the one he put had his faith into now… he didn’t seem like the others.

He listened quietly, nodding in response, not deigning to respond to any accusations or dig out any other facts.  He had what he wanted.  “You seek to assess me, therefore I found it only appropriate to pick at a scab that seems to run common to our ilk.  Your reaction was… unexpected.”  The last man he’d pried like that–even just a little–lashed out at him, spitting profanities.  Needless to say, he separated the man’s head from his shoulders, and thereby severed his life from this world.  “Let’s just say most don’t react as cooly.”

He then raised his brow, a smile pulling at his lips.  “It begs to question, however.  You had no reason to tell me anything beyond the basics.”  Yet the other gave a life story.  As apathetic as he appeared, Nero couldn’t help but feel the man across from him wanted to talk about it.  Ah, but let’s not bring up emotions again.  The other’s cool might finally run out… no need in shedding more blood today.  Everything in moderation.  “You’ve told me much, and I’ve told you barely anything.  It hardly seems fair, doesn’t it?  But my life hasn’t been as colorful as yours.”  Ah, yes, choking one girlfriend to death in a possessive rage, and beating another’s head in definitely wasn’t the definition of colorful.  Never mind the fact that he’d been gifted with his adulterous ex-wife’s head and a burned apartment just the other day.  He had a criminal record according to the Company’s profile on him.

He knew all he had done, but he sometimes wondered why the authorities hadn’t tracked him down.  It’s not like he blended in very well with his swords and elaborate armor.  He stuck out like a red weed in a sea of dirt and greenery.  He finally plucked out his wallet, content with all he’d learned.  According to the unspoken code among most killers and hitmen, his secrets were safe with Nero.  He wasn’t a man to share such secrets, even with his mate.

“How much do I owe you?  Or should I just send over some professionals and have them send me the bill?”  He plucked a contact card from his wallet, one with simply the name “Sabre,” and a cell phone number.  “I think the latter of those two options is a better, more viable option, no?”  He outstretched his hand.  “And look at that, you have my number, which I’m sure a man like you could easily trace the trajectory on or… however technology works.”  He was a simple man, his phone was an old Nokia flip phone which he barely understood how to make calls on…  “Just don’t call between 7PM and 7AM… that’s my time.”

     “So as I test you, you test me.” His expression mirrored one of utter boredom. “I should hope you honestly didn’t expect me to react with emotion. I’m afraid I have none to spare for anyone. Not that it matters. The reason I shared, well, reasons. I share for more than one reason. It’s useful to let people know where you’ve came from and what you’ve done. It tends to cause a deeper understanding between two people, even if it instills fear. However, when someone goes trying to dig for something, they are usually digging for some kind of answer. As such, I gave you an answer. Perhaps leaving more questions, but enough of an indication to not be asking them and digging around for more that you will not get.”

     He was far from stupid. He rode his way to the top through inheritance, sure. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have lost it if he didn’t catch on. If he didn’t work the market. It was his own intelligence that had the company thriving. He’d just passed his own parents peak profits. Of course, more never hurt. This was the way of the world. Sitting atop a monopoly wasn’t enough, he had to garner the bloodstained cash to use as an allowance. Shared among the brothers the dirty money was used the most, it seemed an unspoken agreement that this cash was used more than the clean. 

     A pale hand reached out and took the card that had been offered to him with a slight inquisitive sound as he looked it over. Albeit, it was clearly for show as opposed to actual curiosity. It was clear he could not care less, on the whole. He seemed to make note on the time not to call, he could understand that. A call phone was pulled out of his pocket, the Samsung Galaxy Core LTE. Not that he really expected anyone to know the phone by seeing it. He tapped in the password on the lock screen and pulled up the contacts list, adding in the number casually. Easier this way.

     “Send in professionals. Have them bill you for it. It’s easier on the whole and won’t see me having to patch in extra money if the estimate you and I make is off. I’d prefer not to have to spend a cent on this as I did not cause it, nor did any under my employment. I have no obligation to cover this; you do.” The CEO paused a moment, staring down at his phone and narrowing his eyes before tilting it and typing out a message and sending it off. Jeffrey complaining about Logan again. A simple insult was enough in Dylan’s mind to cut that one short. Annoying, really. He put the phone and card into his pocket and glanced back toward the other man. Sabre, as the card called him.

“Money,” he said calmly, “is merely a byproduct.  I don’t kill for money.  I never have and I never will.  There’s something more that drives me to do it… and it’s a something I don’t think I could reveal to you and have you understand.”  No, if he did… that’d just expose his own weaknesses.  “I would enjoy getting more money…. who wouldn’t?  But it’s not a priority.  As I said, I make enough to get by and be content with my Bullet.”

“From me, you’ll find a primal honor keeping me from speaking.  I have no room to judge, to criticize, to expose you for whatever you do when not in the light–just as I suspect you’d respect any other killer.”  He looked down, adjusting his stance as he grew uncomfortable just standing still, and then back up.  “Or would you leverage their identity, extort them?  Turn them in to the police if they had a warrant for their arrest, a bounty?”  He didn’t want to think this man was 100% money, money, money, but… the more he talked, the more that seemed to be the case.

He shook his head, though.  “’Cover,’ isn’t what it is.  I am a bodyguard, in case the mess of an attacker that I left in front of that building wasn’t a dead give away.  I protect my client, whoever I’m contracted to deal with.  I don’t sell my skills to the highest bidder, though many clients have requested me… I take the clients who need my services, my protection.  I don’t care what they pay, just as long as I can pay for my place to stay.”  Ah, but what was it Alpha had told him…? ‘Ya gad’a nice face, Blade.  Dey like ta see it when ya ‘tectin’ ‘em, bein’ ‘round ‘em.  Ya needs’a be a butler.’  Or something like that…  He tried not to let the other’s compliments about his looks go to his head.

“For a moonlighting killer, you seem to have a good grasp of what to and what not to do, I suppose… in your situation.  Let your money be your friend, your solace,” he muttered.  The man sounded incredibly selfish to the hired guard.  Then again, he didn’t expect much more from any company bigwig.  His expression hadn’t changed since he entered, a scowl on his lips.  “Talk as much as you want about it being toxic…  I won’t be able to change your mind, but I feel… as if you know you’re talking out of your ass about it.”  He was perceptive….  He’d once felt that poison in his vein, the lead in his heart.  Of course it had hurt him, but time is a great mender of all wounds.  So was fire…  He suddenly wondered, just momentarily, if the arson of his ex-wife’s apartment had been reported on….  “What doesn’t kill you, they say makes you stronger.  That doesn’t apply to just bullets and cuts, you know.  That refers to emotional damage as well.”  He couldn’t help but think this guy maybe didn’t have the capacity to understand it.  Sure, cutting your emotions off made life easier but… there was nothing without pain, without strife, without some form of acceptance and belonging.  He suddenly felt sad for the guy who seemed so aloof.  

“I don’t care about your sex life,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively.  It seemed like everyone he came in contact with was always bragging about how they just fucked whatever.  Was loyalty not valued anymore…?  No, no… there was always a market for sex, wasn’t there?  A market for whose who deemed themselves cold and primal, like this man in front of him.

“Now… what do you really want from me?  A man in power doesn’t just offer to talk to a lowly bodyguard-killer like myself without wanting something…”

     His eyes narrowed at the other man. Everything he said irked at Dylan. He seemed to be rooting through the CEO, trying to look below the surface. Deep below. Into the depths of what made the man tick. The comment about talking out his ass dug deepest. Dug down into the unnatural attachment he had for his brothers. It was love. Not the romantic love people talked about. It was the love a parent has for their children. Sick and twisted in its own way, Dylan’s held to the twins that were his last blood relation in this god forsaken place. He’d not let a foul hand touch a hair on their heads. He’d let himself take the deepest and most painful fall from grace if it meant keeping them happy.

     If it meant giving them emotions where he had none.

     “You speak as if you are trying to dig past the surface where there is no man I would trust with that knowledge. My reasons are my own. As yours are your own. I believe I iterated this before. If it’s not money, then it becomes personal. Entangled in the disgusting web that is human emotion.” He pauses a moment, staring at the other with a rather cold expression. “Tell me. For what reason does a child have to kill his parents? What nefarious gain would he have if he were underage to inherit the monopoly? Why would he not wait to off them until the time hit for him to be able to take it if he cared not of suspicion? What if monetary gain was not the gain? For what reason would a child never abused have to murder his own parents?” 

     Dylan gave pause, watching the other. He would not give him a chance to speak before Dylan gave the answer, his tone flat, cold and devoid of emotion. Devoid of even hatred.

     “His reasoning would simply be he’s broken. The thing that must be noted is if a child is not held and nurtured when he is young, he will grow up cold to the world and devoid of the ‘emotion’ that holds all else back from their true potential. Being entangled in a web of lies and feelings is not what makes a person strong, despite what they might think. Take a man dependent on others and throw him in solitary for an elongated period of time never giving him the chance to see another living person and he will go crazy. Perhaps even end his existence of misery. Where you may find solace in others, it is a weakness yet to be exposed within the whole of humanity.” 

     “Where I can overcome this, the rest of the populace calls it a disorder. A mental disease. I, the freak for having it. But you are correct in a sense. It by no means has the meaning that in my own twisted way I cannot attach myself to something. Or someone. But who am I to say whether I have or have not and if I have whether the thing or person yet still exists. Weaknesses that can be removed should be. Does not mean they are, but does not mean that they are not by the same token.” His eyes still locked with the other he give a slight pause before he continues again.

     “To answer you, I hold honor. Honor enough that if no one wrongs me, I shall not wrong them back. However raise your hand against me, and I will bring whatever wrath suits my needs down upon you for the offense. This world works on a give and take basis. That or a give and give back basis as well as whatever you give me, I shall give back to you. And if that is a threat, then I will take it up to the level of simply carrying out whatever threat I would have given in return, without giving the threat. A threat warns of the intent. If I want the next level, I preform the intent. However, not many are stupid enough to break the unsaid honor code we all hold. And those that do? Roll in their graves with their regret.”

     A man not of fully monetary means, really. The way to cause him to break the honor code is to break the honor code yourself first. Once the honor code is thrown out the window by someone else, Dylan found absolutely no need to continue to follow it. Besides that, people like him with no honor would be killed sooner or later and removing them did the underworld a service. It never weighed heavily on Dylan’s shoulders. Being as he was, he was not a very sadistic man. Acting dishonorably first never crossed his mind as something that would bring anything to him other than negative things. It was never logically worth it. Not even for money.

So many things he can say to this. So many thing! Though the mer-creature can not. It will literally expose him and who knows what that will do. For him the sea was far harsher, he was forced to be alone in that vast sea. Only the waves comfort him for the longest time till he was granted the gift to walk on land. Caden didn’t even want to mention how for his kind after birth it was only a few days till the parents left. Running a thin hand through his long snow hair he quickly order another bread just to be safe and use that as a reason not to talk. 

Following out he made it a point to keep a short distance, “ Well guess you are an intervert? Or do I hvae that wrong again. Sorry much of the English language I still don’t grasp.”

     “Mm... Not quite. An introvert is someone who stays inside by choice but still needs interaction. They simply will do it on a rather muted scale. I have what they classify as a disorder. A sickness, if you would. One that is of the brain, of the mental facilities we all use to function. I couldn’t care less on what they call it or for that matter the fact that people consider it not normal to have. I don’t need pity, only understanding and acceptance that it’s there and it won’t change. It’s a mix of chemicals in my brain that ultimately stops me from functioning ‘correctly’. As if there is a correct way to function. If anything, I’d say it brings me closer to being a perfect specimen. But of course, that won’t ever exist. Perfection is not something that will happen to anyone. Ever.”

“Living as long as me you will find that your way of life gives far more effort then one should bother. Why set yourself in that kind of situation when it is human nature to crave interaction. A good example is now or all the other times. You hate conversation with me but it is still a conversation., Still interaction. The big part of it is you don’t care about me or my life but you are taking it upon yourself to let me in for a moment. the passing in relationship you are implying right? But how long can you do this? One day you will crave it, need it, need someone around you then you will see. Your salutary life is not all that great.”

Caden might as well be spewing nonsense since it was basically what he was saying. All of that can be taken the wrong way. He could possibly be utterly wrong. Finishing his bread he nibbled thinking about heading to the door.

     “Ultimately, you make one mistake in how you speak of me. My mind does not work in the same fashion as others. I grew up alone. I grew up hating the world. And as such I am told I developed an ‘Antisocial Personality Disorder’. I isolate myself from human contact and am fine with it. If I crave contact it is simply the primal urges all animals have to mindlessly fuck something to feel good. Of course I listen to it. Physical pleasures are something I can take where I will. Monetary things are of little issue considering my stature in life. I need little to no contact to survive. In the way the rest of the ‘normal’ world does. I suppose in a way, I’ve evolved past those little needs. Every other human needs it because they were born into the world with it. Pity my mother never held me the way yours likely did you. Not that I care from which circumstances I came, or care of my parents. They turn over in their graves as we speak.”

“I’ve been in one too many situations with my back against a wall and a gun to my face to be comfortable in strange places, I’m sure you understand…  There’s a difference in erring on the side of caution and blind trust.”  He crossed his arms as he entered, keeping his hands away from his trademark blade, so that the other would know that he meant no harm.

So he listened as the other spoke, as he pushed past him to lock the door of the safehouse.  “I’m in no regard similar.  I make enough to live, but not enough to own anything other than the clothes on my back, my sword, and the hotel rooms I keep with my Bullet.  I am nothing like you.  But that makes things interesting…” he mused, stroking his mocha-colored chin.  “Though we’re only the same by the blood on our hands, we’re motivated by different factors…  Fascinating, truly.”  He continued to listen, his sharp eyes observing the other’s body language in addition to the words he gave.

“For what reason would I have to turn against you?  It’s not my place.  We’re all trying to make a living, to keep ourselves stable.”  This killer was a man of logic.  The only way to provoke his power was to draw your weapon on him.  It was clear by the way he spoke.  He watched the other sit on the table.  “I don’t see any reason to spread rumors of who you are or what you do in your freetime.”  No sense making enemies with a powerful man.  Though, he sensed he wasn’t going to be making “friends,” either.

“I wouldn’t know about that,” he remarked quietly.  “Any -cide is a hideous sin…  But we find solace in it, don’t we?  Why else would we keep doing it if we didn’t?”  He eyes narrowed at the other.  He personally killed off of instinct, reaction–several times, he’d killed out of spite, hungry for vengeance.  But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it–the feel of hot sticky blood on him, gurgles of anguish, that helpless look in his victims’ eyes.

     “So you’re a smart man, then.”

     Seemed clear that this man knew how to not make an enemy of someone in a position of power. Someone like Dylan. Then again, half of his power could be kicked out from under him just by letting the world know what he was in the underworld. But at least there’s respect among killers. Or did the saying ‘honor among thieves’ apply here? Bah. Didn’t matter. 

     “As far as sins go. I couldn’t care less what I commit, as long as it gives me what I want. We have our own motivations. As yours will be your own, mine are my own. Most of them are money. Others are personal. But we mostly all have personal reasons. Some are more willing than others to divulge the personal reasons. I am not, less it give anyone more information to hold over me than anyone ever should be allotted. As I’ve noted, I have quite a bit of a fall from grace should information get out. However, it has not to date. Honor among thieves as they say. Or is it respect among murderers that has lips zipped? Perhaps fear. I have dispatched a few threatening me before. It takes little effort.” 

     With his money he could hire the best and have things done quickly and peacefully and worry little. A man of apathy and careful calculations. Not someone whose bad side you would want to be on, though some have willingly placed themselves there. His eyes flick towards the other man and stare a moment, as if sizing him up.

     “So your cover then, is as a bodyguard? Hm... How unique. Someone like you... No, I doubt you’d do a full time. Full time does not grant as much opportunities as selling to the highest bidder, now does it? Money motivates. Some more than others. But when it comes to murder, it motivates us the most to do what we do. Besides revenge. But little do I ever find the need to do that anymore. Seems most people understand to not make enemies of those in high power positions. Instead they snivel and beg mostly. Which is worse.” A sigh and a shake of his head.

Caden never really wanted to get under anyone skin for this matter. It was just his curse that made it impossible for him to keep people around him. Everyone hated to hear the truth so for someone that can say nothing but that it can be a pretty lonely life. Even this man, when ever Caden spoke the truth on this mind it only pushed him farther and closer to a fist in the face. No matter he wasn’t seeking affection from this other to him he was still a shark.

“You sound lazy to me not wanting o put any effort in anything. You don’t need to understand why I gave it to you just eat it.” Consider it a gift of I’m sorry for wasting your time.  

     “Lazy? Is that how other people see it? Mm... Suppose you could see it that way. But if you do look at it from the perspective I described it become a tedious cycle that endlessly repeats itself over and over, giving you nothing but negativity in the long run. No matter what way you look at it, people will leave you one day. Whether it be of their own volition, or death taking them from this world. Ultimately getting attached to things and putting time and effort into it will end in pain that could be avoided by keeping a carefully calculated distance with people and keeping all relationships strictly professional or in passing. Not caring whether a person stays or leaves, or even lives or dies, is truly the key to being a successful and happy person in this world. For you can keep companions. You just simply do not have to care about them much. I, myself, simply most of the time choose solidarity as the thing I prefer.”

He followed the man as he went by, curious.  When a killer didn’t have whatever his preferred weapon was to your throat, you tend to slightly let your guard down, you tend to be curious.  There was some sort of code among people like them.  Only the panicked lashed out at those of the same profession, after all. 

He gave glances back and forth to the alley, left and right, .  As they approached the safehouse, the man’s nose couldn’t help but twitch at that metallic tang in the air.  He stopped as the other stepped in, waiting outside the door.  “Trying to lead me into a death trap?”  His grumpy, dour expression finally contorted into something else, an incredulous smile.  “You don’t take me for some run-of-the-mill idiot, do you…?”  Only the most inexperienced killer would mistake that smell for anything else.

Giving a backwards glance, he sighed.  “Don’t tell me I actually had some naive belief that not everyone like us was a bastard…”

     “If I wanted you dead, you’d have a bullet between your eyes already. Don’t assume. It makes a person rather ugly.”

     Honestly. He would not have walked into one of his safe houses and let this guy in if he intended to kill him. There’s no point in beating around the damn bush with these things. The CEO walked back past the other to close the metal door and lock it. An irritated sigh escaped him. God he hated assumers. Worst kinds of people.

     “I brought you somewhere where the eye of the public is not on me. I doubt you understand reputation very well, most of you don’t. There are very few who are like me. High in society in the daylight, and someone else in the cover of the night. You can try to argue you’re similar, but your job in the day lets you kill. It’s clear. So let’s skip the bullshit. Neither of us have time for it. Though as far as you and I are concerned, I clearly stand with something to lose other than my life.” A pause.

     “My concern is whether or not you take the knowledge and use it against me. I am not stupid; I do many jobs in this city’s underground. I kill for money, I fuck for money, I trade information for money, I give tips on how to effectively use the black market for money. I know more than most people do. Which, now that I have told you, I am sure you now understand my concerns. I get money from owning Hauq, and if that reputation is ruined then all I’ve done to obtain everything I have will be in vain.” 

     He moves to the metal table in the middle of the room, dragging pale fingers across the surface of it before deciding to sit up on the edge and fix the other killer with a flat stare.

“I’m not happy to see you either.” Of course he would return the blunt tone with his own cruel honest behavior. The bread was soon stuffed into his mouth as to act as a muffler to hold back any other words to him. In a way he learned from the last encounter, but not fully. 

“Like me?” He replied as a long sigh produced from the lush lips knowing he was annoying. Reaching out he picked a sweet with chocolate paying for that as well but gave it to the other. “ Here.”

     “If you want my honesty, I don’t particularly care what does or does not make you happy. Nor do I care about anyone, really. People are not my concern, no matter who they are. Personally I find it an exertion of my energy gone to waste. There is ultimately no point. People are all the same. If you care they’ll take that an run you ragged. I dislike that. It’s ultimately not worth it, and I refuse to commit myself to such utterly meaningless endeavors.”

     Really, it was almost silly. Felt like this guy was trying too hard to try to get under the CEO’s skin. Unfortunate how that just wasn’t really going to happen. First off, he had to care. And that bridge was just not ever getting crossed. Sure, Dylan could get irritated at times, but that doesn’t mean it’s under his skin. Simply means a person is wasting time he could be using being productive. Upon being handed the sweet he raised an eyebrow. Alright. If that’s what the guy wanted to do. He took it from the other.

His eyes didn’t falter.  He knew how it was.  At least being a bodyguard for The Company allowed him certain… liberties.  If anyone was going to hurt his clients, he would retaliate with lethal force.  Of course… he also had a little wild flame that encouraged him to let loose every now and then.  He gave the man a look, his eyes shifting to the side as he sheathed his sword.

He wandered to where he had looked, leaving the other to deal with whatever he needed to–if anything.  He had no desire to be brought into court, even though it wouldn’t have been the first time.  He shoved his hands into his pockets, touching his wallet as he waited.  He’d willingly pay for whatever damages he’d caused, especially given it was only cosmetic shit.  A window or two, the awning over the entrance.  The Company would clean up the body mess as soon as he reported back.

The other’s eyes had that same glean to them that his bullet had, vicious.  He sighed quietly and wondered how many killers lurked in the shadows of the city, how many eyes had he seen that had that look to them…?

     “If you care to chat, you’ll follow me.”

     The CEO passed by the other man, hands stuffed into his pockets as he walked right on by and continued down the street. It was a casual muttering as he passed, but he knew the other would pick it up. People like them picked these things up wonderfully. There was no ifs, ands, buts or maybes about it. So of course he would be followed if the other man has any interest at all in him. 

     A glance around the streets before Dylan turned off into an alley and headed down to the very end, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking a door, pushing it open. It was a small safe house. Metal furniture decorated it, along with metal cabinets that were all padlocked. There was rust, which almost covered up the rather...off scent. Old blood, really. Dylan found the rusting metal covered most of the smell. Not all, but enough so that innocents if they were to enter wouldn’t be able to tell. Someone like the man Dylan assumed had followed him would be able to pick it. Someone like Dylan would always pick it up. 

   Hiding in the blanket that was darkness the blond watched the other closely. He wanted to jump down, he wanted to poke at him and drag him up into the ceiling but of course, he would have had to had his katars on for such a thing. Swallowing his thoughts, the wildfire thought about his partner; how would he have acted, what would the more logical man have done?

   His head tilted slightly as he crawled across the beams, trying to get a closer look as his gaze flicked up towards the door handle. They were still trying to get in, of course. Any random citizen would have easily pointed towards the building that the thief had ran into. “Hmm?” He hummed softly, curious as to why he chose the unconscious tactic.

     A smile would grace Dylan’s features from the ground. Irritation mixed with satisfaction, really. He chose the best tactic to pull considering who he was and what he stood to lose if he ended up caught up in bad business. Well. Caught in a bunch of it. He already managed himself fine enough in the underground, but this was daylight. Meaning he still had to play his CEO role. That was written in his life’s rule book.

The bodyguard didn’t turn to the man talking at him–yes, at him, not to or with him.  The sword he used to cut the man who threatened to shoot his client was still dripping red, the clothes and flesh of the man all diced on the ground.  The only thing still in tact around him was his client, himself, and the gun which the man had been waving at the the bodyguard and his client.  “Stay back,” he warned sternly, his voice resonating in the lobby of the building, which now had a few broken windows.  He finally moved his head, only slightly to the side and locked eyes with the man threatening him with a lawsuit.

A taxi pulled up and the oddly-dressed bodyguard ushered his client into the unmarked cab.  He muttered something to his client, who was crying quietly as he shut the door and turned his attention to the who had been behind him.  The cab squealed away, leaving tread on the asphalt.  He reestablished eye contact with the man, his own eyes narrowing even more than they’d been.  Sharp.  Keen.  Observing.

“I’ll see that it’s paid for.”  His own expression was grumpy, blood speckled across his face, his clothes.  He sheathed his blade and tilted his head.  “I know you…” he said quietly.  “Or maybe I know that look in your eyes.”  He shot the other a knowing glance.

     His expression changed nigh instantly. A familiar thing to him, the face the night warrior he was held when he looked down upon a target, on the scum of the world as he squashed them under the heel of his boot. Of course the look in his eyes would be familiar to someone else who slaughters humans. That goes without saying. But that didn’t mean Dylan had to like it. 

     The broad daylight gave him no cover to do anything. He was also weaponless. Not that he hadn’t weaponized his own body. He was strong enough to snap necks when it came to fist fights. But this would not escalate to one if it escalated. So he had to tread this one carefully. Not that he wasn’t considering throwing down a hit just then. Doing things himself would be messy. That being clear because this man caught his true nature; his inclination to take lives. He always hated humanity on the whole anyways. 

     “Hey. You’re paying for that mess. Shit around these parts isn’t cheap to clean up.”

     Which is why most of the underground business Dylan Jensan conducted was conducted far away from his main building. So seeing someone be rather destructive with a murder in front of his company building was something that pissed the CEO off. Highly.

   “Aye” He replied simply, throwing himself off of the rafters to stand before the stranger, his tongue slightly poking out of the side of his lips as he took in the others appearance slightly. The katars that had been on his wrists previously now hung loosely on his belt, clanging together slightly as he forced his hands down into his pockets.

   The other didn’t seem all too interested in anything, it irritated the blond a little till his eyes fell on the closed door as the handle wiggled about a little. His lips curled into a large grin as he nodded to the man and darted off into the rafters again.

     The door. Dylan’s attention moved to it. Of course. Sneaky, considering. Judging by the way that man went to hide, whatever was on the other side of that door at the current moment was probably law enforcement. Meaning Dylan, CEO or not, is going to get in some form of trouble for being here. Wrong place wrong time. Gaze moving up to the rafters, a cold smirk graces his features, before his body drops to the ground. His status as a CEO would make this one easy. Using ‘wrong place wrong time’ logic to his advantage, he can make it appear as though he’d been knocked out in here, saving him a lot of trouble.