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A thick darkness surrounded him, with only a single, clearly old, light bulb directly above him providing any light. His black eyes darted around the room curiously in an attempt to peer into the darkness and see something, but to no avail. He looked down at the ropes that had him firmly tied to a simple wooden chair and gave his arms a slight twitch. Indeed, he was tied properly. Tightly.
The heavy door, which was directly opposite the white-haired guy, creaked open. There was a quiet, measured step as a dark figure appeared in the doorway, closing it behind itself and approaching the victim.
“Hello, Killer,” the figure said on the way to the victim, the one addressed chuckled quietly. “Every assassin who was sent with the sole purpose of killing you came back empty-handed, the price rose each time, and now they are willing to pay at least fifty thousand for your head. Do you understand how much it is?” the calm voice of the dark figure spoke, after which the guy in the hood was finally illuminated by a single light bulb.
"They promised that the job would be difficult, that you'd be a pain in the ass to kill, but I didn't feel any difficulty," said a smooth, emotionless voice, red and red-and-blue eye peered at the Killer from beneath the shadow of a gray hood that concealed most of his face, except for a few strands of ash-colored hair. "You fell into a trap easily, didn't really try to get out of it, and didn't take advantage of the opportunity while I was away. So now all that's left is to kill you and forget about it," the blade of the knife was quickly brought to the Killer's neck. "It's nothing personal."
The mercenary was about to slit the victim's throat when the Killer suddenly spoke:
"You're a shitty killer, you know?"
“What?” sounded the mercenary's surprised voice. The blade moved slightly away from the throat.
"You're a shitty killer, I'm telling you. You're trying to create unnecessary drama out of nothing. You're wearing a hood, and you're being mysterious. Why the fuck do you even need a hood? It's not convenient. You've dragged me into a completely empty basement. You should have hung some torture devices for ambience," Killer openly criticized the person who was supposed to kill him.
"For ambience?" Dust asked, confused, finally putting the knife away. "Seriously?"
“Yes! Just look how boring it is in here! Do you really like being here? There's no atmosphere for murder or even violence. You're trying to create a sense of dread, but you didn't even bother to set the right atmosphere. How come you haven't lost the desire to kill me at all?" the black eyes stared expectantly at Dust, who began to look around.
Indeed, it was rather dull here. Perhaps some additional details could be added?
"And your speech. Who came up with this crap?"
“Why crap?” asked Dust, clearly displeased with the victim's words.
“Because, you dick! You told how other people tried to kill me, and gave me a lot of information. You might as well have told me the customer's name too!”
“Shut up…” Dust gritted his teeth, but he was ignored.
"You've also insulted me as a victim. Couldn't you have come up with something more interesting? And you turned out to be a pretty lousy "great and terrible cold-blooded killer," to put it mildly," the black-eyed one continued to criticize Dust without any fear. "You're more like a burnt-out mercenary who kills simply because he needs to. Work should be enjoyable. Have you lost your way at some point?"
"I'm not burnt-out!" Dust shouted in a fit of anger, throwing the knife on the floor with force and stepping on it several times. "You too! I'm fucking sick of you saying that!"
"See!" Killer added fuel to the fire, barely restraining himself from humiliating Dust further for his inappropriate attitude towards knives. "I'm not the only one who noticed that! You're a shitty assassin!"
“I’m not shitty!”
"Shitty! You're so shitty that even your customers don't think much of you. The price was much higher for me last time! You're just being used like a cheap employee who'll screw up his job for a little something!” clearly not going to stop, the black-eyed guy continued to put pressure on Dust.
Dust was already at his limit. The hand picked up a trampled knife from the floor, and then abruptly cut the rope with it, which still held Killer in place.
“Go the fuck out of here! Now!” Dust growled, pointing at the door, practically puffing with rage.
"I will!" Killer also growled in response, and then walked confidently towards the door.
There was a loud thud as the hard forehead hit the wall, followed by the black-eyed guy's displeased grunt.
“Where is this fucking handle…” trying to find a way out blindly, Killer muttered.
“Just fuck off, what are you even trying to find?!” Dust continued to be extremely displeased.
The mere presence of this guy in the same room as him was already incredibly annoying.
"It's dark as hell in here! Just try to find here at least door, not even handle!” the Killer also growled in response.
He had been kidnapped and was about to be killed, and now he had to get out on his own? How rude! Finally, the Killer's hand reached the handle, turned it, and opened the door.
“Now you’re finally going to fuck off!?” sitting down on the chair where his "prisoner" had been, Dust growled.
“Gladly!” there was a similar growl in response, followed by the door slamming shut and footsteps.
But within a minute, the door opened again.
“Where is the exit? There are a lot of doors,” a black-eyed guy asked, leaning out of the half-open door.
“Straight down the hall, to the left, and up the stairs,” Dust replied more calmly.
The door slammed shut, followed by the sound of footsteps that eventually ceased. A minute, two, three. Dust sat in silence, slowly recovering from the recent situation, when suddenly a realization struck him. He was supposed to kill him…
“Fuck.”