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Post by Xavier Mundus Morvis on Feb 14, 2008 17:19:09 GMT -5
He'd been driving back to London for a few days now, after getting a job by one of his best clients miles away. The job had been just like any other: track down the target, and eliminate. The payment was regular as well, just enough to keep food in the man's stomach, along with money to buy fuel for his motorcycle.
He needed a break, and he pulled up to the Leaky Coldron, pulling over at the side of the road and coming to a stop. He turned the engine off and got up, before walking in. The pub was nearly empty, save for a few drinkers and the bartender. Taking a seat at the bar, he put his money down on the counter. "The usual," he said, before sitting there to wait. His hair was drenched from the rain outside, but his coat had luckily protected the rest of his clothes from getting soaked.
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Post by Cerebrus Wodahs XIII on Feb 22, 2008 13:55:15 GMT -5
Sitting in one of the corners for some time now was a man that many people had come to know. He didn't look much older than a seventh year at a school, but in reality, he was well in his thirties. He had emo-style pitch black hair, a black shirt, dark jeans and leather boots, a wolf earring, and hidden under his shirt was a golden cross in a gothic form. Also hidden by his shirt was the ugliest scar you would have ever seen, where skin once was, and now just a mark to remember it by.
Opening his eyes for a minute to see the new-comer, he shook his head and got up to walk over and sit next to the man. "I take it your job went well then if you can afford a drink," he said, just to pick on the stranger for his lack of good payment.
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