The Assassin

King sighed as he settled the weight of his porcelain mug on his mahogany desk. Ruthless as he was, Addison was also somewhat sentimental. These materials - porcelain and wood - were exceedingly rare. Most people used highly processed synthetic surfaces that had been engineered never to scratch or break. King found that he enjoyed the wear of these antique materials, and though the rest of his buildings were outfitted with the latest indestructible surfaces, his own offices - the entire top floor of each Infrasource building - had natural furnishings.  King debated whether he should go over his speech once more or get some extra sleep as his predator’s gaze fell to the exposed flesh of his neck.

The sense that he was not alone finally kicked in and Addison King spun around in his chair. The dark figure was not startled and in fact had expected a reaction sooner than this. King, on the other hand, was surprised by what he saw. It wasn’t the fact that an assassin had come for him - this was hardly the first time that had happened. Nor was it the presence of an impossibly sharp bone spike that had been carved and polished for the sole purpose of ending his life. He was taken aback by the assassin herself. Her slight frame suggested that she couldn’t have been more than fifteen. She was covered in patches of inky mud that obscured her face. King could see what could only be described as battle scars peeking through the grime and her crude clothing. Her hair was pulled back in one long, black braid so that her brown eyes were unobstructed. There was no doubt in Addison’s mind that she was from the outside. 

“What is it that you want?” King calmly asked while remaining seated. He had found that he could easily outbid whoever had put an assassin up to the task. Though he had never bargained with an outsider before, he imagined that it might be even easier. After all anything he could offer, no matter how small, would seem like absolute treasure to someone from the outside.

The End

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