To Fate They Fall || HP

CH: 9 - On The Hunt

Though many will beg to differ, a job is a job. Sometimes, as long as it brings food to the table, it's decent work. 

It doesn't matter that your transport holds questionable goods. Because if you don't know what it is, are you even guilty?

Who does it hurt if you work for a shady boss with blood on his hands if you don't have blood on yours?

Money is money, and desperate people don't bother asking questions.

~*~*~*~

"Hurry up dammit, we don't have all day." A gruff voice shouts.

A slender man dressed in all grey chuckles softly, "Yeah yeah, don't get your panties in a twist, Tim-Tim."

The man, presumably Tim, blows a puff of smoke from his cigarette and scowls. "Unlike some people, I'm serious about this job. So stop clucking like a chicken and start lifting!"

The man wearing all grey smirks to himself in response while loading boxes into what looks like a food truck repurposed into an armored carrier. With an old grocers logo still printed and pealing on the side. Likely for cover.

A hidden figure positioned behind crates quietly studies the two bickering men. Tilting its head to the side, it carefully analyzes the thug's faces.

Tim -Timothy Chalay- a hardened thug, of age thirty-two. With no distinguishable features besides a crooked nose and an ugly scowl.

From a distance of nearly a hundred feet, the figure can barely make out the beadiness of the man's eyes, so much like a familiar pig.

The other man, who could only be Austin Farray, at the age of twenty-something, began to argue with Tim in hushed tones. Underneath his baseball cap, golden blonde hair spilled out. Spiking in every direction and matted with sweat.

With a flustered huff, the thug, Austin, started to yell louder. "-no see, we agreed there'd be no people around!" He pointed an accusing finger at the other man and whispered something inaudibly.

The figure glowered in irritation. Why couldn't the thugs keep shouting? He needed to hear what they were saying.

"I told you bub. I don't care if you're a monk with a vow of peace. This part is essential. Now, if you-"

Both men freeze, the larger man's hand flies to his belt as the slender man reaches for a metal bat, the soft crack of wood echoing throughout the parking garage.

The figure freezes in panic. Crouched low to the ground, and still as a statue. Breath sharply halting as he hears a click on a gun, safety turned off.

Now or never.

Silent as a shadow, the figure slinks closer towards the panicked thugs. If he had to lose the chance to listen in secret, he might as well still keep the element of surprise.

They might know someone uninvited was near, but they couldn't possibly know where.

"Why didn't you agree to bring backup?" The startled blonde whisper-shouted.

"Oh, let me guess, its-" Before the younger thug could conclude his accusation, something thick and dense met bone. And the blonde crumpled to the floor with a thud.

"Shit," the bigger man mumbles, backing slowly towards the truck.

Something told the figure that throwing a pipe wouldn't work with the second thug, instead opting to exit the cover of shadows and confront the thug face to face. Thankfully he had something that worked faster than a gun.