Ahote's B-rank Exam

It was had been a normal afternoon for Ahote, except one could never tell it would have been that time of day. The overcast of clouds was of a tar black and the humid air had been filled with the pungent zing where, often times, a storm would follow. The sweet smell of nature's anger had always delighted the raven-haired criminal. Perhaps it was a sign of good things to come, or perhaps not. Whatever it was, it had only lifted the spirits of the normally downcast Ahote, even if it was hard to see it through his countenance.

Little light reflected in Ahote's topaz hues as he leered out of the train window, which briskly paced itself over the tracks. His hands had been hidden under gloves the color of coal, as well as his other fleshy parts under his vest-suit, which traditional black and white colors. It had still smelled of the tailor. Across him sat a rather stocky man who wore similar formal fabrics. His colossal bald spot in the center of his head and the uncanny sea of hair around it was perhaps the most striking feature on this man's body, besides his equally colossal belly that looked as if it spilled over his belt. He wore so much cologne that it filled the train with the smell of leather, though Ahote could smell the grease, sitting so close to him. If anything, he resembled that of a shameless pig who happened to have money and have a lot of time to eat.

The man folded his hands together and rested them on his lap, "You know why I requested you, yes?" he began. "If this man isn't put in his place, my business will-...!"

Ahote sighed almost comically loud and wearily, glancing at the man with a worn complexion, "So much chitchat, my goodness!" he frowned, shifting one leg over the other, "If we can travel in silence, I would feel much better. Leave me to my work, will you? I know what to do." he spoke sharply, his brows snapping together like a rubber band after being stretched. Instantly, the stocky man had smacked his lips shut with an obvious annoyance. So, the pair had traveled in silence, even if the purpose of their meeting was to discuss the details of the mission which had been clearly stated in his letter, or so Ahote concluded.

The train came to a rusty halt, Ahote rising from his seat with a visible boredom plastered on his complexion. The stocky man's eyes would follow him down the aisle, and just as his loafers would graze the metal steps of the train, Ahote peered at him from over his broad shoulders, "Rest assured, sir, your business is fine. It's in my hands after all. But don't think I do this for people out of the goodness of my heart," he continued to proceed down off the train, "Where I come from, we value privacy is all."

Ahote had a black jacket neatly folded over this left arm, which had then pressed against his chest. With a single pair of striking eyes, Ahote gazed over the nearby horizon, which had been decorated with groves of greenery and some small homes, some large ones. There had been only the distant sound of young boys laughing and kicking a kickball at some hard surface. It was, for its size, a quiet town.

The alluring sound of a loafer's heel-clicking against the cobblestone pavement rang through the empty avenue, the crystal orbs of the raven-haired man leisurely rolling from left to right as if searching for something. Ahote was in a lane of homes now, those of particularly well-off families who come to quiet towns to live their lives peacefully. Well, most of them. He had seen the silhouettes of married couples through the windows, masked by curtains. The smell of hot, baked bread and the mild zing of wine tickled his nostrils like wet feathers. The spotless boards that made up these homes were without a scratch and reeked of the chemical odor of paint. It was a neighborhood one could only see in magazines and was almost surprising to find such quality of life in a small town like this.

Quietly, the tapping of his heels paused, his head twisting right next to a particularly spacious home. Unlike the rest, the garden of this home was picture perfect with an assortment of flowers and plants that not even the knowledgeable Ahote could recognize. The soil had been so rich and brown that he could see it through the darkness of oncoming storms. The hedges were masterfully trimmed to resemble bears and other woodland creatures, though an uncanny amount of hedges trimmed to look like a particular person. Ahote smiled, assuming the fair man was the one he was about to meet.

Ahote stepped onto the stepping stones which would lead to the mahogany doors just ahead, swiftly unraveling the jacket in which he held so carefully and briskly slipped his body into its dark fabrics. His eyes floated towards the nearby sign, in which numbers had been etched into its stone with excellent craftsmanship. "Two-one-zero-four-five. This is most certainly. . ." his soft words trailed off into quiet peals of laughter as if some comical thought had brushed passed him too quickly for his tongue to replicate. Or so it seemed.

Ahote raised only one hand to knock against the door, the sound of his hard knuckles pounding against the wood ringing through the home. The grunt of what sounded to be a large man rang back, "I'm coming!" the unknown voice announced to the waiting Ahote. The doors swung open to reveal a rather fat man in a white tank top and boxers. It was painfully obvious how much he was relaxing judging by appearances alone. A dirty man with a dirty appearance, or so Ahote thought.

"Hello sir," Ahote began, "I'm your interviewer. We had an interview scheduled for these hours?" he folded his arms behind his back. The fat man was considerably shorter than Ahote, almost abnormally so, and made it easy to peer over his figure and into his well-kept home.

The man nodded, a lopsided grin decorating his swollen lips, "Right, this way! You'll be paid handsomely for exposing these scumbags, I assure you." he cackled with a throaty voice. Ahote slid into the residence with a hand tucked in one pocket, the door swinging closed behind them.

Suddenly, something sharp glistened in the candlelight from the raven-haired man's pockets. "Very nice, sir, but. . ." a blade arose from the depths of the pockets and dug deep into the back of the grossly large man, who trembled in agonizing shock and pain with only grunts and hoarse gasps, "These scumbags do enjoy their privacy, and you would do well to respect that. Well, if you had that opportunity, that is. But unfortunately, this is the end for you, sir. Good day." Ahote sighed, retrieving the blade from the flesh as the corpse would fall to the ground, unmoving. Swiftly, he snatched the documents which would lie untouched next to the printer, something too close to be copied, and left through the back door. Should the body be discovered, only the interviewer who was scheduled for that evening would be blamed. Such a poor, unfortunate soul.

WC: 1,232/1,001
EXAM COMPLETE