he goes where the moneys good. leaves the argument of morality at the door when enough zeroes stack up and a package in need of delivering is waiting to pass between hands. paid not to look.. not to ask questions. he's in the belly of the rendezvous, no squad in sight. somewhere, up on the ridge line, there's a scope trained on the area. there's a voice in his ear, rattling off the necessary coordinates and tracking a vehicle past the cover of mostly baren trees, into the sprawl where he's paced the grass flat in wait.
@v0id0ut , hunk knew him through reputation and the sort of investigating that came off the tail end of a close call and downtime to kill. competent. good enough at his job. wouldn't have been his first choice, but no one asked and he hadn't offered. tension could be saved for when it was needed and, here, his rifle slung back over his shoulder, it's a vote of confidence that that time wouldn't be now.
" you're early, " which made him extra so. a hidden grin appreciates what his tongue will not, " βguess we can go ahead and get this over with then. " in the casual, albeit careful, approach. in the nod towards a cargo van quivering in mock anticipation. no one here was excited. no one here was anything more than bored of a routine that lended itself towards longevity at the cost of enthusiasm.
" sooner we're done, sooner we avoid the patrols. " dispatching them would be easy. he'd watched from the mouth of three birch trees while a set of sentries marched their predictable path. placed the forehead of the furthest in the center of crosshairs and mimed pulling the trigger in his boredom. but that's not what he was here for. behind doors that open slow.. that's what he's charged with. " good thing i'm not paid by the hour. "
