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Untitled Part 9 (after part 7)

He worked at night. The darkness was easier to move around in, and it concealed activities that might otherwise draw attention if carried out in the light of day. That said, he was currently resting on his haunches on the rooftop of the building across the street from his target, where he had been for the last week, observing his movements. The man's name was Edward Phillips, which were two fine names that had been bestowed a little preemptively, in this case. He was a tall white man with sandy blonde hair and a chin strong enough to carry the image of the company, with a blinding smile to boot. He could often be found making grand waving gestures with his long arms that would send flurried secretaries scrambling out the ground floor and taking off in sleek black company cars in search of his latest unreasonable demand, or never coming back at all. He worked long nights and often didn't leave at all during the day, disappearing from his office to presumably check on things in the lab, wherever that was. At the very least, he was devoted to his work. His money management skills had some room for improvement, apparently, but hardworking nonetheless. Tonight there would be no more opportunities for improvement, unfortunately.

D glanced briefly at his watch. 11:13pm. The custodians worked their way from the top down, and should be finishing up in another hour. No one would find the body until Monday at 8am, since the office was closed on Sunday, and by then he would be well out of the picture. He rocked backwards, gaining enough momentum to stand up and set off a series of pops and cracks in his joints. Given the security detail residing on the first floor there might be another series later. D rolled his neck and eyed up the building in front of him: a huge monstrosity of glass and steel that towered twice as high as the building he was standing on, with the CEO's office being located, of course, on the top floor, ten stories above him. Well, it was either that or the black suits with the guns. Luckily, ol' Eddy had a thing for Gothic architecture, and as such, had gargoyles complete with pedestals on all four corners every other floor. With a little extra help, they had practically built him a ladder. A very skinny, concrete ladder. The hardest part would be making the jump across the street to the first handhold, which was- you guessed it- ten stories above the ground.

Heaving a sigh, he unbuttoned his shirt and shook out his stiff muscles before going still in a boxer's fighting position. With a grunt, followed by some more creaks and cracks, his legs swelled with extra muscles, bending backwards at the knee to mimic the hind legs of a dog. It would help to absorb shock when he impacted. He relaxed his hands, frowning at the additional changes he had not planned for, but ignored them and backed up for a running start.

D's breath was coming a little faster now, his heart beating in anticipation of the hunt, the beast inside him straining against it's bonds as he settled into a sprinters crouch. It was a straight leap, across twenty feet of void one hundred feet in the air onto a pedestal two feet wide. He did not care. He took off, wide feet spraying loose gravel as he took leaping strides across the building, gaining kinetic energy as he moved. This was it- now, when he was fluid and powerful, that he did not mind his body modifications. When he planted his foot on the edge of the building and leapt, he was grateful for them; they gave him the power to fly. He was weightless for a beautiful three seconds before he realized he was hurtling at the building very fast. Too fast. He had pushed off with too much force and instead of just clearing the gap, he was now heading for the concrete gargoyle with a great deal of speed. Well shit. was the only thought he had time for before he collided with the ugly thing, shattering it to pieces that rained down on the concrete below. There goes the element of surprise... His lower legs dug in with claws, which he was now forced to use with his hands as well if he wanted to stay on the building, but there was still enough of a pedestal to act as a launching board. Settling his feet on the narrow strip, he crouched, eyeing his target directly above him. A moments pause for the muscles to tense, then a loud CRACK as he pushed off, sending the ruined pedestal falling towards the unfortunate guard that had been sent to investigate the prior noise. Oops.

He continued this awkward game of leapfrog up to the top floor, but avoided the boss' office. For now. Instead, he bunched his muscles one last time to make the leap to the roof, barely grabbing the edge of the roof and hauling himself up and over. Between the physical workout and the strain of controlling the beast, he was already worn out, but there was still work to be done. With a grunt, he heaved himself to his feet, trudging over to the rooftop access that had been left conveniently unlocked, and proceeded to invite himself in. Dim lights illuminated the interior of the concrete stairwell, which, accompanied by his slow footsteps and heavy breaths reminded him of a scene out of a horror movie. In this instance, however, he was more on the terror causing side and not the terrified one. At least, this was the plan. When he reached the top floor access door, D quietly turned the handle and opened it just enough to get a read on the situation near the office.

Two blacksuits stood at attention near the mahogany double doors, hands clasped loosely in front of them and always ready to grab the concealed weapons hidden under the immaculate tailoring should the need arise. His ears twitched at the sound of voices from inside the office- one presumably belonging to Eddy, and the other... a woman? This late at night? He didn't recall any such behavior on his target's part that would indicate such... habits, but then again he had only observed him for a week. This might have been a biweekly or monthly activity. Unfortunately for her it would be the last time.

In three steps he was out of the door, across the floor and his knife was slick with blood from the soldiers cut throats. The simultaneous thuds of their bodies hitting the floor was followed by instant silence from inside the room, but no further action was taken. He flicked the knife to get rid of the blood, then pushed the double doors open.