John Skint woke up. It was time to collect rent. He walked out the door and walked to all the doors,knocking and asking for the rent. When he came to Edward Kizdon's door he was about to knock when he hesitated. Kizdon didn't like being disturbed at this hour.And Kizdon was one creepy person. But John shook the feeling aside and rapped on the door. ''Kizdon,it's time for rent,'he called.There was no reply. John rapped a little harder. Still no reply. "Kizdon, RENT IS DUE NOW!",' he shouted. John hit the door as hard as he could. Still nothing. John had a good mind to break down the door when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He turned slowly. Edward Kizdon stood at the top of the stairs leading down to the front door. He was dressed in a shabby,vomit stained suit. A duffel bag was hanging from his side. Edward coughed slightly. He walked towards the John. John stepped back warily. As Edward passed John he slipped a crisp hundred-dollar bill into John's open hand.
John gulped uncertainly, then closed his hand and hurried back to his en suite apartment. Edward opened his door and slipped inside and locked it. He chucked his duffel bag on the couch, then took off his suit and threw it down the laundry chute. He walked into his bedroom and sat on the bed, his head in his hands. This shouldn't be happening. These feelings shouldn't be happening. It should have been a clean mission and a clean kill. Not a bullet in the fucking arm! It should have been quick. Yet still the bastard had time to whine about his payment and how he could negotiate a deal. Edward sighed. First he was going to have a shower and then crawl into bed and sleep.