The men were rough, ripping off the restraints and gripping Kirian's arms hard enough to bruise. Clearly, they were not happy to invite him into their wonderful abode. A blindfold was tied tight around his head, and he was half dragged down a hallway, into an elevator, down another hallway, and into a room.

To be honest, Kirian could pretty easily trace his way back to the torture room, and he promised himself he would play with the darling torture devices the first chance he got.

The men threw him onto the bed and stormed out, locking the door behind them. Hands finally free, Kirian took off his blindfold to take in his surroundings. The room was quite luxurious, in a 21st century, soulless beige box way. Truly, the room lacked any substantial color or ambiance. The well-crafted bed, desk, spinny chair, and sofa all looked straight out of an Ohio mom's favorite edition of Architectural Digest. And besides the chair, everything was bolted down.

The bed was extremely comfortable. Not too soft and perfectly cool to the touch. The wood floors looked authentic, and the natural light coming in made the space a little more hospitable. As he suspected, he was quite high up. Looking out the window, the ground was somewhere around 20 stories up and there was no latch or handle.

Kirian walked towards the door and found that the door knob was the extremely sturdy kind and locked from the outside. Not sensing any immediate danger, Kirian slumped onto the bed and took in the last rays of sunset. Exhausted, he fell asleep quickly.

—-----

Three days passed with mind numbing monotony. Simple, high quality meals were given to Kirian three times a day through a slot (unfortunately, it only opened one way). Kirian found books in the closet along with some plain black athleisure. The fit was boxy but comfortable, the sweatpants were soft as butter. The books were mundane. Some leadership and self help books that made Kirian regret ever mentioning the podcast. The truth was that he had seen a clip in passing and he had no interest in self betterment. Still, the books helped to pass the time for a few hours.

On the first full day, all he did was eat, read and work out on the floor. His mind was starting to slip.

The second day, he tore all of the pages out of the books. Pacing like a caged tiger, he threw the spines of the books at the wall. He stripped the bed and tore the sheets into dozens of uneven pieces. He did as much damage as he could to the uncomfortably serene room. He threw the office chair at the door and the wall-to-ceiling windows over and over until his heart thundered and his arms hurt. Neither budged. His screams seemed to be absorbed into the walls and no one came to check on him, or even chastise him. Try as he might, he could hear no sounds besides the muted bustle of busy streets below and his own labored breathing.

Finally, he sat on the floor amidst the mess and shut his eyes tightly, trying not to pierce his palms with how tightly his nails were digging in. He fell asleep in the same spot, curled into fetal position. His sleep was fitful, although that was pretty normal for him.

On the third day, around what must have been noon, the door opened and none other than Tobias walked in.

Looking at him now, he didn't have a terribly ugly face. Age and wear had clearly made their mark and the scars pulled attention, but he must have been a good looking man in his youth.

The subject of Kirian's scrutiny spoke, "Get up, we're going to Mr. Radashawn's office."

That perked him up. Not caring about the handcuffs placed on his hands, Kirian was almost vibrating with the chance to do something for once.

The blindfold was put on him once again and he decided to cooperate, he had a feeling this conversation would be interesting.

Again, he tracked the path in his mind while walking briskly to keep up with the older man's gait. They went up the elevator again, to an even higher floor, and passed a security guard on our way. Soon Tobias was knocking on a door that slid open automatically.

Kirian was led into a seat and his blindfold was taken off. Unsure what to say, he blinked to regain his vision while waiting for someone else to speak.

"Good afternoon, assassin." the smooth, tenor voice greeted. Mr. Radashawn sat in front of him looking just as good as last time. The sunlight from the windows catching in his deep brown eyes.

"Hey" Kirian responded casually, leaning back into his seat and dropping his handcuffed hands into his lap.

The larger man stared at him blankly for a moment, waiting for more. Realising that Kirian was not going to say anything else, the man continued, "I trust you've had a restful few days?"

Kirian scoffed. "You don't know me very well but I don't do well in captivity."

Mr. Radashawn continued to speak, going through the motions of being cordial. Kirian would have found it suspicious if he wasn't staring intently at Mr. Radashawn himself, who was now in a polo shirt. The man had his hands clasped in front of him and Kirian could see his veins just barely peeking through between masses of muscle. His sleeves clung tightly to his biceps. A plain gold band flashed on his ring finger. His sun kissed arms held an easy strength that captivated Kirian's attention.

"-but I can't excuse the murder of my men"

"Huh?" Kirian's eyes shot back to the man's face. He was slightly embarrassed to have been caught distracted.

The man looked at him for a moment, assessing him. He started again, choosing to ignore the eccentricities of the assassin.

"You were right. The security cameras corroborated your story. Please believe me when I say that I don't condone the behavior of that guard but killing dozens of my men is not something I can accept."

Kirian lifts one side of his mouth in a half hearted smirk. "I'm pretty sure I killed a few women too. You should really get an HR team."

Mr. Radashawn was not amused. "You need to pay for killing my people," he corrected, "which brings me to why I'm speaking to you now." He takes a breath before leaning in.

"You seem to believe you are a skilled assassin, and I could use one of those. It would be a waste of your talent to kill you now and I can't risk you falling into another syndicate's hands. So, you will kill for me.

As many of my subordinates as you killed, you will match it with targets I supply."

He stopped to take in the assassin's reaction.

Kirian raised one eyebrow. This seemed a particularly easy way out for him. He couldn't help but feel like there was a catch. At the same time, he wanted desperately to leave the room he'd been sequestered in and he did enjoy killing. Very much.

"How many?"

Mr. Radashawn asks, "How many what?"

"How many targets do I get to kill?" Kirian says. A wide, unnerving smile spreading on his face.

"Ah, 42. You did quite a bit of damage, killer."

Kirian smiles wider. "Oh please, it was nothing," he jokes.

Mr. Radashawn shakes his head before continuing. "If this is going to work, I need full compliance from you. No trying to escape and no going off on your own adventures."

"Well that's no fun. You seem like the kind of guy who doesn't mind being challenged," Kirian tests.

Mr. Radashawn's face darkened in distaste. "Don't excuse my kindness for weakness, assassin. I could just as easily get rid of you today."

"I'm not quite sure you could," Kirian retorts, the smile not slipping from his face. He put the handcuffs, which he'd taken off during the conversation, on the table gently. He made a show of popping his thumbs back in their sockets. "Nonetheless, you don't have to worry about me trying to run away, I'm fairly sure this will be a mutually beneficial relationship," Kirian smirked, his tone bordering between dangerous and seductive.

Mr. Radashawn stared him down with unmoving solemnity. "Your tricks will do you no good here. Do you even know who's building your in?" he spat. His voice turned harsh.

"Well, you never told me your full name," Kirian replied, not backing down.

"I am Sebastian Radashawn of Rad Co." he leans back before continuing, "I'm sure you're familiar with the name?"

Kirian shrugged and leaned back himself.

"Sorry Sebby, I'm new in town."