Chapter Text
Rain of shards splatter and scratched the wet wooden floor. One neatly settled on the ends of the mop. Blood travelled through the cleaning solution to the puddle of coke Elliot was cleaning. He looked up, and a body, adorned with bloody cuts, was pushed through the double glass doors.
A fight? was the possible conclusion. Street fights were common occurrence in the night.
Guy squared up with someone, punch-punch, other guy drunkenly swung him through the restaurant. Elliot, with deep eyebags and a parched throat, could not spare his remaining energy to think of anything else. And just when he was about to end his shift, they just had to make a ruckus in my place.
Elliot leaned the mop beside a table and trudged towards the body. A pool of blood surrounded the man's head, with seemingly a bullet hole right in the middle of his forehead. Elliot crouched and searched for signs of life. He's long dead, why do I bother? He eyed the lifeless body with disinterest.
(Maybe if he were more energized, he would do something about it.)
Thud. A black duffle bag landed on the body, unzipped with flashes of green peeking through. Hush money?
"I know me a guy who could stitch him up good as new." A tall, suited man appeared in front. Elliot could tell he's no con artist —— the suit, with crisp ironed edges, rests perfectly on his thin frame. His black tinted glasses reflected the lights and shone blindly on Elliot's face. It is hush money.
"I'm sorry, who?"
The man leaned down towards Elliot, "Why, God of course. Now come on, laugh!" and broke into a wave of laughter.