Work Text:
Contractee's fingers drummed idly against the side of a wooden plank he carried, eyes darting around the dark alleyway that surrounded him. He was, embarrassingly so, nervous. Contractee didn't get nervous, he had more confidence than he knew what to do with so to find himself currently sweating with unease left his stomach in awkward knots.
How could he get himself into this sort of mess? Contractee always knew he had been a troublesome kid, always being a nuisance and provoking others, but this was a bit far, even for him.
After flunking almost each and every class he took in highschool, college seemed a bit unrealistic for him and Contractee needed a job fast. A lack of qualifications won't get you very far in life, but somehow using his fists more than his brain managed to get him somewhere. He didn't mean to get involved with the wrong sort of people, he kind of just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and suddenly he was being offered money to make a few guys disappear. Contractee was strong, sure, but did he have the guts to actually take someone out?
The idea had been bouncing around his (mostly empty) head for a while, but his employer said these people deserved it. All he had to do was find a debtor, ask them for the money, and if they don't pay up, get rid of them. Seems easy! He hadn't been provided with any of the fancy weapons he had seen Consigliere using, but a random wooden plank with a rusty nail poking out of it would be good enough.
The mission was supposed to be easy, and Contractee was desperate to prove himself as someone who was worth something. Being the youngest in the crew sucked, he was always talked over and the older men always taunted him for his mistakes. Caporegime said something about him being 'dumb as rocks' which didn't make sense because rocks weren't even alive and therefore could not have a level of intelligence, but no one wanted to listen to him argue about it. Someone also told him to stop thinking with his fists first, which is why he thought the plank might be useful, that way he would stop breaking his knuckles on impact when trying to knock someones teeth out.
His shoes tapped quietly against the concrete ground, a few puddles beneath his feet from a recent downpour. The person he was looking for couldn't be far, they had escaped the casino after being unable to pay up the money they owed but there were only so many dingy alleyways that they could hide in. A small debt of a few thousand robux was hardly worth the time of the others, so Contractee was sent out on his very first solo mission. He was trying not to let the nerves get to him, but when he was alone and everyone was waiting for is return, a certain unfamiliar pressure weighed down on his shoulders.
He did enjoy working at the casino, so it would be a shame to be fired so soon if he fucked up this one time. But that's not to say the job didn't come with its own faults. Long hours (even for a part-timer), co-workers that looked down on him, debtors who kept trying to fight back and ominous threats made by his employer of what would happen if he ran his mouth to the wrong people…
He tugged at his collar, sweat dripping down his neck. The uniform was also way too stuffy! The collar of the dress shirt hugged his neck too closely and the tie was far too tight to be comfortable. Although the waistcoat was tailored to his exact measurements the snug fit meant his movements were slightly restricted, and the formal dress shoes gave him blisters on his heels. Not to mention the Don, or 'Boss' as he was instructed to call him, always nagged Contractee when he left his shirt unbuttoned at the top and his tie loosened, or if he left his headphones around his neck. Something about wanting his men to look presentable, as if they weren't killing people around the clock. Why did it matter if Contractee wanted to loosen his uniform or wear sneakers so his feet weren't being rubbed raw while slaughtering debtors? It wasn't like they cared, Contractee figured if he was dying the last thing he would think about was if the one killing them was well dressed or not.
He turned the corner, expression perking up as he saw the man he was supposed to catch hunched over at the dead end of the alley, panting for breath. He hadn't noticed him yet, hands on his knees as he wheezed to bring oxygen into his lungs. He wore a dirtied suit jacket and tie, with typical dress pants but his hands were adorned with rings and expensive looking jewelry. Why would someone like that not be able to cough up a few thousand? They certainly dressed as though they lived in a higher tax bracket than Contractee did.
His grip tensed around the plank, contemplating for a moment while the other mans back was still turned. All he had to do was take him out, right? Just whack 'em on the head a few times until he stopped breathing, easy enough.
Without thinking for a second longer, Contractee started sprinting towards them, hurried footsteps loud on the wet pavement. The man turned around in surprise but barely had a second to react as he was swiftly met with a wooden plank to the face. His nose broke with a sickening crunch, causing him to wail loudly and stumble back while clutching his face with one hand. Contractee didn't hesitate, and bought the plank down again and again until the man crumpled, some blood pooling out the side of his head and onto the floor.
Contractee took the moment to gather his composure, letting out a breathe he didn't realize he was holding. The body twitched once before going still, eyes glassy and rolled back. He poked it with his foot lightly, just to see if it would move again, but it seemed to be a job well done. He crouched down next to it, patting down their jacket pockets until he found a wallet and thumbed through its contents quietly. He pocketed a few crumpled 10R notes as a 'tip' for his efforts, before dumping the wallet on the ground in a puddle and making an exit.
Contractee hummed along to the song playing on his clockwork headphones as he made his way back to the casino, wooden plank resting in one arm. That wasn't too hard! Maybe he forgot to give them an opportunity to pay up before crushing their skull, but the boss didn't need to know the details. In a job like this, being too trigger happy couldn't be that much of an issue, surely. A clean up crew would be sent on their way, and whoever that was would be washed out in the rain never to be seen again. Not to mention Contractee would get a fairly decent bonus for his work, which would hopefully be enough to buy lunch for the following week.
Working for the boss didn't seem so bad! As long as you could look past the blood and stuff.