Snippet #2069535

Markus sat in the furthest booth of the small dinner amid the towering high risers in downtown Noyerville. Despite his appearance, he was not use to such a place. The sands of the middle east, the dirt of Somalia, or the jungles of South America, these where the only world he had known for the past decade. It was a major change for him, but a good one. Rather than Somali Death Squads and Palestinian Gorillas, it was idiots from the suburbs rebelling against how good they had it. At least, that's what he thought it would be when he first arrived. This city had brought some heavy hitters in, ones who even Markus could immediately recognize just by their name. Whether or not all of this was truly needed or just overkill was something only time would reveal to him. With the money he was being paid, he would have his business up and running within two years. Rarely does one get the chance to reawaken the old childhood dream, but Markus was getting his shot. 'Private Investigator Markus Ambrose,' he liked the sound of that far more than bounty hunter any day of the week.

Markus took a sip of his coffee, the breakfast he had been served over thirty minutes ago still sat barely touched in front of him. He continued to read the local news stories found in the newspaper, figuring it would provide some clue to what type of situations he would be involved in. As far as he could tell it was like a city out of a noire film. Drugs, prostitution, arson, murder, it was like everything New York City used to me only with an injection of adrenaline. "Perhaps it might take longer than a year?" He laughed to himself and put the paper down, looking out the window as he continued sipping on his coffee. A quick look at his watch showed him it was nearing 10 a.m. and that it was about time to start making his way toward the waterfront. The waitress walked over, pouring more coffee into his cup. "Was there something wrong with the food?" Markus didn't turn from the window, seemingly admiring the size and scope of the city. "The eggs were over-cooked and the bacon tasted like leather." The waitress grabbed the plate from the table, inspecting the food herself. "Why didn't you say something earlier? I would have had them fix it." Markus took one last sip of coffee and pulled a ten collar bill out of his jacket pocket, leaving it on the table before exiting the booth. "What? So he could spit in it?" He walked toward the door, opening it with his right hand and turning back to the waitress. "Oh, and you can't fix food." He left on that, emerging from the dinner into the city streets.

It was in the late morning on a week day, so the streets weren't exceptionally busy. He put his right hand into his pants pocket, hailing a cab with the other. "The waterfront, please." The driver nodded, noticing that Markus wasn't really in the mood for chitchat. Due to the low traffic, it didn't take long to reach the waterfront, which Markus thought was a shame. He was enjoying watching the city pass him by, the people rushing to work while others sat on a corner with nothing to do because they were out of work. It was incredible to see such a city with such a bad reputation seem normal for even just a short while. He wondered if he would see the same people later tonight, in much the same spot doing a much different activity. He opened the door to the taxi after throwing thirty dollars at the driver for the ride. the building was quit a sight to behold. Large and intimidating, definitely giving off a new world order aura. At least it was clear the city was serious about cracking down on the crime, even if no individual person was. He entered the building, giving a quick introduction to the receptionist before making his way to the elevator. Squeezing his way into the back, the sight of another trying to get into the elevator caught his eye. The man looked like a cop straight out of an old movie. Once the door closed, Markus laughed under his breath with the thought of, sucks to be him coming to mind.

Markus exited the elevator on his floor, the sight of several rather tough looking individuals laid out before him. Many were wearing the latest equipment, had the latest guns, basically, they had the tough guy image down. Markus looked more like a businessman than a fighter in this crowd. He was wearing a nice black suit, black tie, grey shirt, and wing-tipped leather shoes to match. Whoever thought he would finally be in a crowd where he was the one under-dressed. The sight of the man from earlier caught his eye as he watched him go from the stairwell and into an office. He smirked to himself and made his way to his own designated work office. He opened in the door, revealing a rather spacious room. Not spacious due to size, but because it only had a desk, chair, and no windows to speak of. Markus smiled and clapped his hands together. "Ah, just the way I asked it to be." He walked over to the desk and sat down, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes while sitting. "Okay." He stood up and exited the room, leaving the light off and locking the door behind him.

He began to meander around the office, knowing if he was needed they would find him. "Hey, I just saw the RLR walk by." Markus stopped dead, listening to the conversation intently. "Oh, you mean Ram... not Rambo! Mr. Jackson! Stop calling him Rambo its really weird, man." The two kept walking own the hall, eventually exiting Markus' earshot. Markus smirked and continued walking with one destination in mind. He arrived at the office of William Conrad Jackson, knocking on the open door, if only for the sake of being polite. "Mr. Jackson. So, I finally get to met you." Markus sat down across from William, crossing his legs and curving his posture. "Good to see the years have been kind to you. You don't look a day older since I saw you in Venezuela." Markus was clear and precise. Even under his respectful tone was a hint of cockiness and arrogance, something he could hide from most but not someone like the man before him. "The company I worked for at the time was interested in starting a coup in that region and sent me out to gather intel. By the time I got had gotten there, you were already storming the capital and cutting off the head of the beast. I watched from a few clicks away as you and the tribe finally killed him. So, in one day I got a show and an easy thirty grand." He smiled and tilted further back in the chair. "Just wanted to say thanks."