Meet...

...this guy, whom you shall soon see. A character that I'm currently in the process of developing. It's strange, actually; I'm fine with creating worlds and characters and plot skeletons, but when it gets down to development of the storyline, I suck. It's greatly annoying and something I hope to remedy. Hopefully.

I have too many ideas and stories for my own good, I know. I'm working on finishing one particular one at the moment, so don't panic. It'll be up on this blog by the end of the school year at the latest.

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   James N. Harcourt strode into the bar with a confident air. After ordering a porter and scotch, he sat down at one of the corner tables to observe the door, waiting for his summoner to arrive. As his eyes tracked the bar, they settled on each customer individually, examining them and evaluating their threat. None seemed particularly hostile. His eyes skipped over most of them, settling briefly on a stranger at the bar whose face was shadowed in the hood of a dark red sweater.
   While it was in the thick of winter, the bar was air-conditioned, and there was no need for such dress indoors. He was hiding something, obviously. Harcourt couldn't see any bulges in his clothing that would suggest any hidden weapons – at least, not on the side facing him. Is HE my contact?
   As the thought passed through his head, the hooded man suddenly snapped his head around, facing towards where Harcourt sat in the shadow of the corner. Red eyes flared from undernead the darkness of the hood, the burning gaze boring into Harcourt's. Harcourt felt paralyzed, as if he was a mouse staring into the eyes of a cobra; the gaze was poisonous, malicious, hateful, and yet...dead?
   Then the moment passed, and the man looked away. Immediately Harcourt felt as if he had been jolted from a fall, and he blinked, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.
   “Done gawking?”
   He started in his seat and looked over to see a man sitting across from him, dressed in a business suit and tie. Pale blue eyes examined him from underneath a shock of blonde hair, and white teeth showed in a dazzling smile framed by a scattering of stubble. The two drinks Harcourt had ordered were standing on the table between them.
   “Er...are you the person who wanted to meet me?”
   The man blinked at the question. “A rather stupid enquiry, if I do say so myself. Obviously, yes. Let's get down to business.”
   Harcourt dismissed the insult and nodded. “You have a person you wish eliminated?”
   “Indeed I do,” the man said, his smile returning.
   “Who, where, and how much?”
   “You speak my language.” The man grinned and reached inside his jacket. Harcourt tensed at the movement, readying to strike should he bring out a weapon; but his hand merely emerged with a mini ipad, into which he entered a code and brought up a file.
   “There is no need for introductions, I feel,” the man said, “but if you wish, call me Dante. I am part of an organization that specializes in keeping world balance; we employ many people such as yourselves. Your skill has gained you quite some infamy, however, and we would like to make you a proposition.”
   “Recruitment?” Harcourt scoffed. “I'm a solo operator. If your organization has any intelligence at all, it would know that such offers have been made to me before, all without success.”
   “No, nothing so binding,” Dante waved a hand in dismissal. “We have a list of targets, and we believe having such a man as yourself in our list of assets would be immensely valuable. We do not require you to join us, merely that you should give our requests priority.”
   “And in return...?”
   Dante slid the ipad across the table. Harcourt glanced down at the screen briefly, then stopped and stared. He found himself consciously trying to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. The amount listed on the screen was...unthinkable. No way. It had to be a trick.
   He looked up at Dante, making an effort to keep his features composed. “A sane man would not refuse such an offer, I think.”
   “You'd be surprised,” Dante replied with a smile. He held up a finger. “There is one condition...which has to do with your first target.”
   “Name it.”
   Dante's finger slowly came down to point. Harcourt followed the gesture to the man in the red hoodie seated at the bar, the one he had been staring at earlier.
   “Kill him; here, now, no weapons.”
   Harcourt raised an eyebrow. “That's all?”
   “Yes.”
   Harcourt stood and walked towards the hooded man, making as if he were going to the bathroom. The stranger showed no reaction. As Harcourt drew just astride of the man's back his right hand swept up and over, slamming into the back of the stranger's hood, just at the base of the neck. There was a snap as the spine broke, and the man slumped, his head falling to rest on the countertop – as if he had fallen asleep.
   The move had been executed so smoothly and quickly that no one in the bar had even noticed what had just happened. Harcourt turned to look at Dante, who had watched the scene quietly from their table in the corner. Harcourt shrugged. Dante sat where he was, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
   Suddenly Harcourt felt cold breath on the back of his neck. His body locked up, and try as he might, he couldn't move a muscle. Then a smooth, low voice spoke into his ear.
   “Before I kill you,” the voice said flatly, “I would like to know why you did that.”
   A hand siezed his shoulder in a crushing grip and spun him around, forcing him down onto one of the barstools. Harcourt found himself staring into...
   Impossible...
   The red-hooded man stood before him, no trace of the red glare he had previously given Harcourt. Instead, his eyes were a brilliant green. A glance at his hair revealed it to be brown, and the face shadowed under the hood was pale. Harcourt felt a worm of terror creeping into his chest, a rising fear that seemed irrationally strong, rising up and making him want to grovel before the man's feet for forgiveness.
   “Speak,” the man commanded.
   Harcourt suddenly felt his mouth moving. “I, er, was commissioned to by...” His hand moved involuntarily to point at Dante, who still sat in the corner with a mischevious grin. “...him.”
   “A professional assassin? What a mistake.” The red-hooded man's eyes flicked over Harcourt, the emerald stare breaking him apart and reassembling him, destroying him and rebuilding him. “The last one you'll ever make.”
   Harcourt stuttered. “But – how –”
   His words were cut off as the man siezed him by the throat in an impossibly strong grip, lifting him off the chair like a rag doll. He clawed at the steel grip around his neck, choking for breath. His vision began to turn red, then blackness creeped up on its heels...
   The last thing James N. Harcourt heard was the crunch as his throat was crushed.

   The red-hooded stranger tossed the limp body of the former assassin against the wall with ease, turning to stare at the people who were now watching curiously. The inquisitive gazes dropped one by one as he met them with his jaded glare. He reached a hand in his pocket and pulled out a bill, tossing it at the barkeeper.
   “For the mess,” he said over his shoulder as he strode over to the booth where Dante was seated. Sliding in opposite, he took Harcourt's unfinished drink and drained the glass, setting it down on the table.
   “So.” His eyes traveled over Dante's attire, then switched up to meet Dante's scrutiny. “You will tell me why you want me dead, and then I will kill you.”
   “Oh, there's no need for such unpleasantries.” Dante said, flashing the same smile he had given Harcourt several minutes ago. “I was merely validating your abilities. But first, introductions; my name is Dante. Yours?”
   The man's stare did not waver, and they sat in silence for another minute before he shrugged and replied, “Shini.”
   “Very fitting.”
   'Shini' reached over and took Dante's untouched drink, draining it as well. His mouth split into a smile above the glass edge, revealing a set of very white teeth and two lethally pointed canines. “You interest me. I will hear you out before killing you.”
   “How gracious of you.” Dante's smile widened, matching Shini's in brilliance. “I am part of an organization...”