The title is very relative to the story I came up with. I drafted it earlier (or at least the beginning) and it came out horrible so I'll try again.
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This job is so not my style, why'd they have to pick me for it?
Puffing out another cloud only halfway eased me as I trotted up to the large scene with an open but rather serious gait. Briefcase in my left hand and a rather expensive cigar in my right, two things that are rarely together.
Hell, in my line of work you can't develop habits, if you get what I'm saying.
Y'know what, I'll flat-out tell you and drop the act, ahem:
Be warned, everything I'm about to tell you is in confidence and security, it is literally a matter of life and death. If you do not heed that warning you are subject to probable arrest or inevitable detainment.
So with that in mind, let's begin while I proceed to enter this gaudy "extravagant" hotel. I am a COIL agent. COIL standing for
Consultant
On
International
Liaisons
Yes, I do have an important job. After the string of world blitzkriegs momentary peace was established. To ensure that nothing so tragic would ever happen, many different types of COIL bureaucracies were established to establish a Checks & Balances type of authority that all political figures must abide by.
Me, I'm what you call a COIL-Cutter; in other words I eliminate or "Cut" the offenders to the rules that have been made.
I can feel that tension welling up inside you. Let me be blunt...I'm an assassin, a government-employed, licensed-to-kill dealer of death in the name of justice. How cliché, I know. Don't get me wrong, I'm not necessarily cold-blooded, I just follow orders. For some reason my employers thought it necessary to send me into a job I'm not well-equipped for; public-related affairs.
Enough of the jabber, I flicked the torch out of my fingers before being drowned in a sea of people. All of them all lavish, aristocratic, and...in my taste, pretentious.
"Name please." I heard someone say. I looked up and saw a woman standing at a podium and scrolling through an electronic pad. "Bond. James Bond." I grimly stated. She laughed to herself and pretended to act as if I was serious; "Seriously, I've been talking to tons of people today, please just give me your name."
"It's Rector." I sighed with a tight jaw.
She searched through it and checked it out, "Okay I've got you down on the list--" then she scanned me once again with those--grisly eyes of hers. "I take it you are staying after--" Well this is a hotel, of course. "--in that case please sign your name on the ledger in the lobby."
I silently followed her orders, despite how much it reminded me of how I hated this assignment. If you haven't noticed, I hate crowds. Ever since I was a kid--and this is all classified information, so keep your mouth(s) shut if you know what's good for you! Anyways, I'll get into detail about my assignment shortly
Ever since I was a kid--and common stereotype about government assassins, they don't have a memory-wiping program or strip your identity like your in Witness Protection Program (which was actually disbanded about 10 years ago because violent crime has been on a very stellar decline at least decades before I was born) they just put you through a lot of physical and mostly mental tests to ensure that you can keep your composure and won't choke under pressure.
...But yeah, ever since I was a kid, I just didn't like being around people.
Got into a lot of fights when I was little, only had 3 friends in my entire childhood...And that carried well on into my adulthood. As for my friends, two of them died and the other just stopped talking to me; I really didn't care.
(Sorry this is getting very long, I'll make it multi-paged)
