goblinkore
Magic Eight Ball
Michael woke up tired - how was that possible? His eyes did not want to focus as he dragged himself out of bed, feeling his body protest the sudden and unnecessary movements. Dawn had not yet broken over the city, the darkness of the sky still apparent outside of his window. The room in front of him was clean, but there were stacks of papers, a mixture of photos, written reports and building plans, littered across the desk he kept in the center of the room. He groaned as his alarm started to ping the most annoying tone he could have set it to play out loud, and on repeat getting steadily louder. He did not think about it twice before he slapped his hand down onto it, shaking the entire bedside table it was sat on. Michael winced as the noise echoed around his studio apartment, mentally making a note to apologise to the neighbors whenever he next came home.
His body was as rested as was possible, but he had been up all night looking over the recon folders that had been couriered to his house that evening. He never got much notice when he was assigned to a new client, but this was something new. It was literal next day service, and he had never had to do that before. He peered at the folder he had left open before he had taken himself to bed; it had been left open at the floor plans for the client’s home, something he’d be getting close to in just a few moments. He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the ends tickle his temples as he did so, and walked over to the coffee machine that was already on and waiting for him.
While he waited for his coffee to brew, he thought about the new assignment. It was not going to be hard, really. Same as any other assignment, follow them around and make sure that nothing bad happens to them. What worried him this time was that the assignment was a rush job, and that cost a lot of money on top of his usual fees. He was not a cheap bodyguard by any means, but to pay the no doubt exorbitant fees that would be added to get him ready for the next possible date he could work... not many people had that kind of money. The name rang a bell, but nothing he could recall immediately. Maybe he could put some feelers out, send a few encrypted messages out to people who would be able to help him work it out.
He took a chipped mug from one of the cupboards, a faded company logo barely visible, and poured himself a mug of coffee so thick he knew it would leave grinds between his teeth if he was not careful. That was okay, he needed to be alert today and the taste of coffee grinds was not the worst thing that could happen to him. He wanted to wait around until the Arabic place down the road opened and he could get himself some authentically brewed Arabic coffee, but that would not happen until long after he was meant to be at the client’s place, and they were not paying him for him to show up later than he had agreed to.
If this client were being hunted, which Michael assumed he was based on the contract details, it was likely someone would hit while he was not quite on his feet. Today, maybe tomorrow, that is when it made the most sense to. If he managed to work out a cohesive plan for daily protection, the client would be less vulnerable. The first day was always the worst, he was on alert for the full twenty-four hours and usually crashed hard afterwards. His mind was already racing through all the plans that he had come up with last night, ranking them between A and Z as to where they should fall on the sensible list of what to do. He sipped at his coffee, the taste bitter and cloying on his tongue.
“Note to self,” he muttered, “Make sure Nicholas’ kitchen is well stocked with coffee, you’ll need it.”
He drained the rest of the mug in one gulp and winced as the grounds hit the back of this throat. That was a mistake, but it was keeping him awake for sure now. With his coffee drunk, he started to get himself ready for work. After a quick shower to wash the night away and a gargle of mouthwash, he got himself dressed. He stared in the mirror, looking over his reflection dressed in standard issue steel toed boots, black non-descript trousers, a bulletproof vest over a tight white shirt and a black jacket. He needed a haircut; the sides of his undercut were growing out beyond the few millimeters that he was comfortable with them being. He’d contemplated shaving it all off and starting again, but he’d seen too many bald security guards for him to want to do that while he was still taking clients; maybe if he ever took time off, he’d try a buzz cut and see what that did for him. Maybe he would even grow out his beard, he would look good with a thick beard. He believed stubble just looked unprofessional though, an opinion that was backed up by the opinion of his very vocal boss.
Sent the message confirming he was on his way out to the client with a couple of swipes of his thumb across his phone screen; the encrypted messages were easy to send and difficult to read, that was the point of them. He was not easily contactable by any other method, especially not if someone wanted to discuss work with him. It was a quirk of his that was welcomed in his profession, although it had cost him several potential partners who found him to be paranoid and strange. Not that it bothered him, he would rather they were not with him and were alive, than had stuck around to become collateral damage when someone who really wanted to get to a client decided the damage done to him would be the best way to do that.
Michael headed out of the building, taking the stairs down two at a time, car keys in his hand, and slipped on his sunglasses. It was a short walk from his front door and down to the car waiting for him below, he opened the door with a click of the key fob and slipped inside onto the leather seats. His car was also non-descript, but he called it the black beast to himself. Something about the name made him grin to himself every time he thought about it. Whilst the car itself was non-descript, it hosted a beastly modified engine under the hood. Michael took his pride in the small places he could indulge himself; his car was his baby in that sense. He had been more upset when someone had scratched his paintjob than when his last fling had broken it off with him, not that him leaving had upset Michael much anyway.
The drive was relatively short, and as the sun rose over the city and it awoke, he felt something in him come alive. There was nothing like the thrill of the first day on a new job. He usually only saw the city in the darkness of the end of a shift, or a midnight walk when he was unable to sleep, and now he was looking at the city in the pre-dawn bliss. He wanted to watch as the city woke from its slumber, but he was already cutting it close to the time that he was meant to be arriving at the client’s home for his inspection and finalization of any plans before he would send the work order out to the company.
He pulled up in front of the client's building – fancy, far beyond the expenses that he had expected. He checked the notes he had managed to bring with him, all encoded, and looked at the building again. His expectations had been wrong, but not that far wrong. This penthouse suite was not under the client’s own name, so perhaps the client would be different from what he was expecting. He hoped.
"Alrighty, Nicholas," he mumbled to himself, gathering the notes in his hand, "Let's get to work."
His body was as rested as was possible, but he had been up all night looking over the recon folders that had been couriered to his house that evening. He never got much notice when he was assigned to a new client, but this was something new. It was literal next day service, and he had never had to do that before. He peered at the folder he had left open before he had taken himself to bed; it had been left open at the floor plans for the client’s home, something he’d be getting close to in just a few moments. He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the ends tickle his temples as he did so, and walked over to the coffee machine that was already on and waiting for him.
While he waited for his coffee to brew, he thought about the new assignment. It was not going to be hard, really. Same as any other assignment, follow them around and make sure that nothing bad happens to them. What worried him this time was that the assignment was a rush job, and that cost a lot of money on top of his usual fees. He was not a cheap bodyguard by any means, but to pay the no doubt exorbitant fees that would be added to get him ready for the next possible date he could work... not many people had that kind of money. The name rang a bell, but nothing he could recall immediately. Maybe he could put some feelers out, send a few encrypted messages out to people who would be able to help him work it out.
He took a chipped mug from one of the cupboards, a faded company logo barely visible, and poured himself a mug of coffee so thick he knew it would leave grinds between his teeth if he was not careful. That was okay, he needed to be alert today and the taste of coffee grinds was not the worst thing that could happen to him. He wanted to wait around until the Arabic place down the road opened and he could get himself some authentically brewed Arabic coffee, but that would not happen until long after he was meant to be at the client’s place, and they were not paying him for him to show up later than he had agreed to.
If this client were being hunted, which Michael assumed he was based on the contract details, it was likely someone would hit while he was not quite on his feet. Today, maybe tomorrow, that is when it made the most sense to. If he managed to work out a cohesive plan for daily protection, the client would be less vulnerable. The first day was always the worst, he was on alert for the full twenty-four hours and usually crashed hard afterwards. His mind was already racing through all the plans that he had come up with last night, ranking them between A and Z as to where they should fall on the sensible list of what to do. He sipped at his coffee, the taste bitter and cloying on his tongue.
“Note to self,” he muttered, “Make sure Nicholas’ kitchen is well stocked with coffee, you’ll need it.”
He drained the rest of the mug in one gulp and winced as the grounds hit the back of this throat. That was a mistake, but it was keeping him awake for sure now. With his coffee drunk, he started to get himself ready for work. After a quick shower to wash the night away and a gargle of mouthwash, he got himself dressed. He stared in the mirror, looking over his reflection dressed in standard issue steel toed boots, black non-descript trousers, a bulletproof vest over a tight white shirt and a black jacket. He needed a haircut; the sides of his undercut were growing out beyond the few millimeters that he was comfortable with them being. He’d contemplated shaving it all off and starting again, but he’d seen too many bald security guards for him to want to do that while he was still taking clients; maybe if he ever took time off, he’d try a buzz cut and see what that did for him. Maybe he would even grow out his beard, he would look good with a thick beard. He believed stubble just looked unprofessional though, an opinion that was backed up by the opinion of his very vocal boss.
Sent the message confirming he was on his way out to the client with a couple of swipes of his thumb across his phone screen; the encrypted messages were easy to send and difficult to read, that was the point of them. He was not easily contactable by any other method, especially not if someone wanted to discuss work with him. It was a quirk of his that was welcomed in his profession, although it had cost him several potential partners who found him to be paranoid and strange. Not that it bothered him, he would rather they were not with him and were alive, than had stuck around to become collateral damage when someone who really wanted to get to a client decided the damage done to him would be the best way to do that.
Michael headed out of the building, taking the stairs down two at a time, car keys in his hand, and slipped on his sunglasses. It was a short walk from his front door and down to the car waiting for him below, he opened the door with a click of the key fob and slipped inside onto the leather seats. His car was also non-descript, but he called it the black beast to himself. Something about the name made him grin to himself every time he thought about it. Whilst the car itself was non-descript, it hosted a beastly modified engine under the hood. Michael took his pride in the small places he could indulge himself; his car was his baby in that sense. He had been more upset when someone had scratched his paintjob than when his last fling had broken it off with him, not that him leaving had upset Michael much anyway.
The drive was relatively short, and as the sun rose over the city and it awoke, he felt something in him come alive. There was nothing like the thrill of the first day on a new job. He usually only saw the city in the darkness of the end of a shift, or a midnight walk when he was unable to sleep, and now he was looking at the city in the pre-dawn bliss. He wanted to watch as the city woke from its slumber, but he was already cutting it close to the time that he was meant to be arriving at the client’s home for his inspection and finalization of any plans before he would send the work order out to the company.
He pulled up in front of the client's building – fancy, far beyond the expenses that he had expected. He checked the notes he had managed to bring with him, all encoded, and looked at the building again. His expectations had been wrong, but not that far wrong. This penthouse suite was not under the client’s own name, so perhaps the client would be different from what he was expecting. He hoped.
"Alrighty, Nicholas," he mumbled to himself, gathering the notes in his hand, "Let's get to work."
