Sitting in Daniil's black Ford Taurus was something of a challenge. His car reeked of cigarettes and his heater had been broken for who knows how long. Adonis could barely hear him offer a jacket over the bloodcurdling heavy metal shaking the car. The long hair explains it. Although appearing bitter, he enjoyed the music. He was speeding, though nobody was out those frigid nights. 

***

Arriving at a local bar, Daniil kicked his leather boots on the table where they sat. Nobody seemed to care or notice such provocative behavior, continuing their rounds of drinks. The air felt sodden and tired. Quite unordinary considering the time. 

“A whiskey should help with that sore throat of yours,” he laughed. 

Adonis impatiently tapped his fingers on the table as a man, likely the manager, arrived to the gentlemen; he hastily delivered a warm bottle of sake. The bar was rather sleek for the town he'd been living. Sake didn’t appear to be on the menu. Must be a special order. 

A long and awkward silence plagued them both. Drinking from the bottle, he looked Adonis in the eyes. 

“You’re wondering who I am. Who I’m working for. Let’s just say it plain- you have nothing to lose. That’s a quality we’re looking for. We need the likes of you.”

Exhaling, Daniil lit a Marlboro under his hand. 

“Have you ever killed a man, Adonis? You could say it’s a rhetorical question, my friend because frankly, you have no choice.” 

He paused, tapping ashes onto an ashtray. 

Adonis wasn't surprised. He sighed without giving much thought to his offer. I wouldn’t be against a rifle, he collected. Closing his eyes, moments of her flashed; sad yet terrible. He didn’t feel anger. Daniil handed him a smoke; he accepted. Something of speaking without words. Adonis painfully glared at him anyway. He'd be making an uproar if his throat could take it. He decidedly left, leaving his drunken associate to drink alone. 

The air, with a petrichor tint, felt light under gray clouds. The moon lit the cracked pavement as he traversed, kicking chipped concrete at his feet. It was uncanny; a desolate town without a sound. Only freezing gusts of wind and the meditative rhythm of the ocean. He stared into the jet-black waters. They were rather calm, lightly rocking the old planks Adonis stood on. His cotton coat, although long and rather large, wouldn’t protect him from Northern winds. He had nothing against frigidness.

The man who followed him was dressed similarly, only with different shoes and a knife in hand.