All he could see were the slightly shadowed figures of dancing drunks. The large, loud room was lit up only by multicolored lights flashing in a patternless rhythm, giving off the sense of organized chaos. Loud music pounded in his ears, and the illuminated figures of female dancers flaunting around poles were all around him.

The smell of extensive alcohol and cologne filled his nose, clouding his head a bit. He sighed as he straightened his sleeves and pulled his tuxedo shirt down over his belt, concealing the gun holster bouncing on his hip. Normally, he'd be at a nightclub to find some fun — maybe a few rounds of beers, some money spent with the dancers. But despite the ideas of many of those who knew him, Thomas Cassell wasn't too big on spending on nights. Besides, his job wouldn't exactly allow it.

He had a job to do, anyway. Tom guessed that he probably wasn't the first agent on the list to take this mission, because of his past interactions at nightclubs and bars. But he had one of the best discerning eyes in the agency, and if you were looking for a single man in the midst of hundreds of dancers and waitresses and other men, that's something you would want. Not to mention the constant flashing of lights in the darkness, which could get any normal person dizzy within minutes. But not Tom.

Casually, with a wry smile on his face to come off as normal to his peers, Tom pushed through crowds of people and tried to ignore the sweaty skin that he made contact with on multiple occasions. The heavy fumes of beer were really starting to hurt his head, but in order to look like he belonged here, he was making his way to the bar. He'd get a better view of the people, anyway.

He could feel the sweat making his black suit stick to his back as he reached the bar and hopped into a seat.

The bartender walked over, grinning, "What'll it be?"

"Shot of vodka," replied Tom shortly, craning his neck as casually as he could to try to look for the man he was supposed to be looking for.

He slid three bucks across the counter as he waited, lounging back with one elbow propped up. The music had changed to a much more dance-like song, with bass drops right and left. The lights flashed in time with the rhythm, and suddenly Tom thought he spotted a man who matched the description he was given, but the figure of a woman with hardly anything more than a small blouse and underwear on blocked his view before he could be sure. He leaned back, frowning nervously, as the woman sashayed over to him with a little smirk on her face.

"Hey, handsome," she purred as she put her hands on his thighs and leaned in, her dark brown eyes glittering dangerously.

Tom could smell the heavy liquor on the blonde's breath. He glared at her and twisted to the side, dodging a quick, hasty attempt at a kiss.

He grunted, "I'm taken, thanks." It didn't matter that it was a lie.

Tom was more than ready to claim that he already had a 'significant other' at any nightclub he went to in order to avoid any unwanted attention. Sure, more than half the time it didn't matter to the girls — or guys, even, sometimes — who were trying to take turns at him, but Tom always shut down the people who attempted to flirt with him.

"Doesn't matter," smirked the girl, who looked to be in her early twenties. Tom wrinkled his nose in disgust as she practically sat in his lap, tracing the outline of his face with a finger. He narrowed his eyes and made no moves as she continued silkily, "Don't you wanna get out of here?"

"I'll pass," Tom declined, shoving her back rather roughly. "Don't you have other guys to flirt with?"

The woman huffed and backed up, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure your 'girlfriend' loves you to pieces," she retorted icily, flipping him off and tossing her hair over her shoulder in the same motion as she pranced away from him without an ounce of shame or sign of dejection.

Tom exhaled and dusted off his pants, turning around as a shot glass filled with vodka came sliding towards him. He took the glass and downed the contents without a second thought, sighing and wiping his mouth as he drained it. He slammed the glass down and sighed.

The alcohol burned his throat on the way down to my stomach. He prepared to stand up and search in the direction of which the suspicious man was, but before he could, in the corner of this brown orbs, he saw something shiny reflecting colorful lights of the disco ball within the club. The size of it was too big to be a key, too oddly shaped to be a phone. The man carrying the odd, shiny object was wearing a black fedora and a large, brown, fleece winter coat.

With closer inspection, the object was indeed a pistol. Tom focused on the man's actions and appearance. Blonde, green eyes, and a scar over his left eye. He met the description perfectly. The way he walked was really odd. He had a small bounce to every step, it was like he didn't want his left foot to make contact with the ground.

As the man walked towards the bar, Tom began planning on how to lure him outside so he could do his job. The dancing drunks, lack of lighting, and the loud music make the job all the more harder. He sat down two seats away from Tom and waved to the bartender. The brunette doing the same. The British wanted another shot of vodka while the blonde wanted a simple beer.

The bartender, who was wiping a glass with a towel at the time, threw the rag to the side and used the newly cleaned glass for beer before getting out a shot glass and poured the clear liquid into it. He slid the drinks down the counter so the two at the end can catch them.

Tom drowned it right away and let out a huge sigh before slamming the tiny glass down, while the blonde savored his drink sip by sip.

"So, you come here often?" Tom tired to strike up a conversation with the suspicious man.

"Heh, not really. These places aren't for me." He replied while adjusting his hat. His voice was smooth, deep, and rough. Something the ladies would probably swoon at, maybe even some guys. You could hear the Australian accent he had every clearly.

"Really now? Why are you here then?" The brunette questioned with a smirk and another wave of the hand to the tender.

"I had some business that had to be done." He sighed, placing his drink down and turning towards Tom. "Why are you asking?"

"Well, I might be the person you're looking for." Tom smirked and handed the server the money he owned from the second shot.

"Oh? And why would I believe that?" He stood up and walked closer to the British.

"Because," Tom got up from his seat and stuck one of his hand into his pocket before continuing. "I have the thing you want. If you would like me to give it to you, follow me." The Brunette started making his way out of the club and out into the cold outside air. He continued to walk before coming across a dark alleyway, footsteps trailing behind him.

It was extremely late out and not many people were out on the streets, a few cars rushed past but no one else was around, making his job much easier.

He stopped at the end of the alleyway, which was fenced off. He turned around to meet the blonde with a serious expression on his face.

"So? Where is it?" The Aussie questioned while tapping his foot on the concrete impatiently. Tom reached into his pocket and grabbed onto the familiar handle he knew very well.

"Right," he cocked the pistol, "here!" He took the gun out from his pocket and shot the blonde in the head. A loud 'BANG' was heard and it echoed through the silent night. The Aussie's eyes were wide and his mouth was agape. The body went limp and fell forward onto the ground. The British wore a expressionless face as he stepped away from the body and started walking away. Tom pulled out his phone and dialed the number he knew best. The device started ringing and the brunette placed it over his ear.

"Hey, it's Tom." He informed the person on the other line while playing around with the pistol in his hand. "Yeah, ID 00872 is dead. The body's in the alleyway on 48th Street. Alright thanks." He pulled the phone away from his ear and dialed another familiar number before placing it back.

"I need a lift, mind picking me up? I'm in front of 'Sarah's Bakery'. Alright bye."  He ended the call and stuck the device into his pocket. Nothing but the sound of a few drunks walking around could be heard. The sky was cloudy and the streetlights were flickering. Tom stood outside in the cold for his partner in crime to show up.

After around five minutes, a helicopter's propellers could be heard dangerous close to the ground. The very few number of people started running away but the British stayed in one place, smiling knowing who it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
First chapter ends here. Huge thanks to Lemmy who helped writing this chapter. This was suppose to be a collab but Lemmy had to drop out because of her busy schedule, so this will probably be the last chapter she will help me write. Show her some lover anyways <3