FSE

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I couldn't see the man I had been sent to meet, hiding behind a high-backed black leather executive chair. A thick haze of smoke clung to the ceiling like a storm cloud waiting to empty on the next poor, unsuspecting sod that had the misfortune of walking beneath it.

"Sit."

The unexpected command made me flinch and I realized how nervous I was. Pathetic. I straightened my suit coat as I walked across the expansive office to a pair of chairs situated before a grand desk. If I wasn't mistaken the desk was made of solid Oak. Other signs of wealth and influence filled my gaze as I sank into one of the supple leather arm chairs. The strong scent of genuine dead cow skin filled my nostrils as I glanced at walls covered in large, original paintings and vibrant tapestries. A great bookcase stretched from floor to ceiling to my left (many of the book's bindings looked ancient enough to be first editions from previous centuries) and the tail end of an extravagant rug ended beneath my - cheap by comparison - dress shoes. A long, loud exhale preceded a new plume of smoke joining the already impressive cloud. The aroma that permeated the room was particularly pungent.

"Do you smoke, Mr. Fern?"

I shouldn't have been the least bit surprised that the man knew my name. The depth of his voice unsettled me, something about it was off. A distinct rasp clung to the tail of each word that could be due to decades of smoking, but it seemed unlikely. His enunciation had an inhuman sibilance.

"No." I said after a moment of hesitation.

"Pity. It's not often I get to talk tobacco."

Lying had crossed my mind but I decided that it was pertinent to my well being that I be honest, lest I fail further scrutiny. Being found a liar would not help see me through this meeting. The copious security that seemed to linger in every corner on my way to this office gave me the feeling that it was possible to unwittingly screw up and never make it to the exit. At least, outside of a body bag.

Not many people were ever granted a meeting with the head of this family and my boss would be in a dimension beyond pissed if I fucked this chance up over a little white lie about smoking. As if on cue, a jet of smoke rolled from the side of the chair, appearing as if it were the one smoking.

"You don't smoke, so, what is your vice, Mr. Fern?" It was an order more than a friendly question. Was he trying to figure out what kind of person I was? This was a man that had the power and resources to find out anything he wanted about me in the time it took me to take a shower. It seemed trivial that he was asking me directly. His hand, holding a quietly smoldering cigar, feel into view and cut me off without a word.

Blue.

His hand was blue and I'm pretty sure that wasn't normal skin either. Were those scales? What the fuck?

I didn't have time to contemplate it any longer, I had already let the silence stretch for too long since his inquiry. "Uh, shoes - Sir."

"Shoes?" Was the chairs perplexed reply. My admission prompted the chair to begin spinning of its own accord only stopping after completing a one-eighty and I was struck dumb. This isn't the first time I've seen one of his kind, however, it is the first time I've personally met one or even been this close to one. The head honcho of a powerful Human organization. At least that's what everybody believed. My obvious shock seemed to please him; a broad smile splitting his snout.

"I collect rare makes and models of shoes. You'd be surprised how valuable some become after a few years." I said once I had regained my composure. A deep rumble emanated from the creature.

The easiest way to describe him would be to imagine a normal lizard and a fictional Medieval dragon falling into a vat of radioactive waste and a single creature lurching out from the viscous fluid. He was something you might see in a movie but Human shaped but larger, bipedal and less grotesque. I felt like prey cowering before the predator. Who knew what he was capable of.

His cold blue eyes regarded me through a fog of smoke and he took a long drag from his cigar. The tip flared to a bright cherry red as it was stoked. He exhaled through his nostrils after a pause, smoke flowing out like two smoke stacks. It evoked images of enraged fantastical dragons preparing to breathe fire. Melting the faces of their foes and razing helpless villages.

"I've little use for shoes, personally."

Two thick black horns jutted from the back of his skull, terminating in dangerously sharp points. A cultivated fringe of black-spiked and white highlighted, oddly Human, hair ran from his brow to the back of his neck like a mane. Clusters of bony spikes burst from the corners of his jutting jawbone. I would have expected a mutant reptile, straight out of a low-budget B Science Fiction movie, to be more conventionally colored, but this one was a sky blue. There was a single white band that split the top of his snout horizontally and thin black stripes across the long, pointed ears that swept back from the side of his head. They twitched slightly when I spoke as if pinpointing the location of my voice.

"I never wear them, they would lose their value."

His gaze bore into me and I couldn't meet it for more than an instant. Any explanation I could come up with made my hobby sound even more dumb. His eyes reminded me of a cats, only blue. I got the feeling his alien nature is what gave him power. It was certainly working against me.

The man, I didn't know what else to think of him as, delicately held his cigar between index and middle finger and inhaled, holding the smoke before tilting his head back and exhaling. Smoke exited his mouth in a spiral, dissipating lazily into an ethereal wisp. Invisible eddies twisted the smoke this way and that on its ascent to the ceiling. Achieving the feat of twisting the smoke appeared to be a combination of spiraling his blue tongue beyond pursed lips. I thought it made him look a bit silly.

His snout split into a self-satisfied smirk and I noticed strings of saliva stretched taut between his lips that shimmered with a strange iridescence. I wasn't sure how much longer I could stand his company.

"Not impressed" he snorted derisively "very well. I can tell your only concern is business. I like that. You're not a bullshitter." The cigar stabbed at me like an exclamation point.

"No, sir. Straight to the matter at hand." I hoped that would speed things up.

"Of course." He took a long drag. The smoke oozed out of his mouth, curling from his lips in waifish waves as he continued. "Your boss sent you here to discuss an issue over perceived territory rights."

"He doesn't view them as perceived. You're infringing on an area long controlled by my family. The agreement has never been disrespected before, which is why I was sent to talk. He viewed violence over a first offense as uncouth." I felt my confidence returning with each word. This would be quick and painless.

"Hmm, how considerate of him. However, that original - treaty, we'll call it - expired and ample time was left before anything was done. I'm sorry your boss feels we've infringed on his territory, but that is entirely his own fault." He paused and leveled his gaze at me. "For all intents and purposes that area is fair game."

The chair swiveled ninety degrees and he put his ankle on his knee. What looked like his ankle anyway. His leg and foot was all claw, awkward bone structure and scales. He continued to glance at me out of the corner of his eye while puffing on his cigar. I frowned and leaned forward, elbows on my knees, steepling my fingers beneath my chin.

"This is a very serious issue. Whether the previous agreement expired or not does not justify making no attempt to contact my family. My boss is not going to be happy about this easily avoided oversight." I couldn't help the ire that crept into my voice. The situation had started to become personal. It wasn't just an organization that employed me, but a family I could legitimately call my own.

"If that is how he chooses to handle the news that is his prerogative." He tapped the cigar on the edge of a glass ashtray, depositing the gray banded ash in the receptacle. A glance at the cherry preceded another long drag. "I'm just as interested in a solution as I'm sure your boss is. However, why should the area go straight back to him. Why not allow somebody else to have a turn?"

"Because it's ours!" I shouted, jumping to my feet and planting my hands on his desk. The feeling that this meeting had never been intended to go well was becoming palpable. He waved his cigar at me dismissively.

"There is no need to get upset, Mr. Fern." He stood and turned to the giant picture window that towered behind him. The office was about midway up the building, judging by the surrounding sky scrapers. High enough to afford an expansive view of the sprawling metropolis below. He motioned for me to join him at the window. I decided I'd oblige him this one last nicety before I left; hoping he would make one last attempt to be reasonable.

"There is more than enough city, sheep and illicit activity to keep both our organizations gainfully employed. However, only one can lead the flock." I glanced at him and noticed his cigar, a constant since I'd entered the room, was no longer in his grasp. He tapped a claw against the glass, each hit like a gunshot in the silence. I sighed and looked back out over the city. Sure there was plenty but, that wasn't how the game was played. Everything was never enough.

"This isn't going to end well." I muttered, more to myself than him.

"You're right, Mr. Fern."

When I looked back at him his eyes were closed. His expression was thoughtful and relaxed. Perhaps he had truly considered the cost of stirring conflict. Starting a turf war had to be the last thing he wanted. Then I noticed something odd: was he drooling on himself? He turned to face me and smiled like a predator that had finally cornered his prey. His eyes full of malicious intent. A dozen disgusting strings of saliva joined his upper and lower jaw, sharp white teeth standing out against his blue flesh.

"So very right." He growled, lunging at me. I put my hands up in defense as I stepped back. A lot of good it did me, I thought as I felt a stabbing, crushing grip on my neck. Pain lanced through every nerve and I tried to tear away from him but he had pinned me against the wall. He was too strong for me to escape and struggling only increased the pressure and agony. The distinct feeling of wetness rolled down from his jaws, but I couldn't be sure if it was my own blood or something else. The stench of cooking meat mixed with the aroma of cigar smoke. Then the pain began to subside; replaced by a strange chemical euphoria. I couldn't keep my eyes open and felt only the pressing desire to sleep. With it came the inability to move anything. Not that I really paid it any mind. My thoughts felt like they were traveling through mud, but it was of little consequence. Maybe a turf war was exactly what he wanted.

I'd never felt so wonderfully free in my life.

~~~~

"Finally." I muttered to myself as his body dropped to the floor in a heap "I thought you'd never die." Despite his fate the man wore an honest smile. Thin rivulets of blood oozed from the dozens of puncture wounds on his neck, matching the bright red skin where the saliva had burned his delicate epidermis. I wiped my snout with a handkerchief on the short trip back to my desk. A water bottle provided the necessary means to rinse the taste of copper and death out of my mouth, spitting the fluid mix into a wastebasket. Sitting in my chair I glanced once more at his body. I was fully aware of the consequences of my actions, but something drastic had to be done to send a message. The man had provided the perfect means.

"Donnie!" Moments later an imposing, smartly dressed man poked his head through the double doors.

"Yes, Boss?" He asked quickly. His Eastern seaboard accent stereotypically thick. It only took him a moment to notice the body in the corner and strolled over to it. He crouched over the dead man and shook his head, but he knew better than to touch the wound. His head turned to me and he wore a lopsided grin. "You sure seem to enjoy doing 'em like this, Boss." The thug was one of my favorites.

"I'll admit I was feeling hungry before he came in. Couldn't help myself in the end." I said with a shrug. The bodyguard chuckled and stood back up. "Besides, it's not often I get my hands dirty these days."

"How should I, uh, return him to sender?"

"Deliver him to the front door step. I'm confident the message will get back to the proper persons."

"Sure thing, Boss. Johnny! Get yer'ass in here!" There was a shuffle of hurried footsteps outside the office preceding another suited man, much smaller than the first, jogging in nervously. "Help me with this stiff."

"Y-yeah, Donnie, n-no problem."

The pair shifted the dead man until he was laid out flat and carried him by his wrists and ankles. Donnie would ensure the man was left where he needed to be. His ability to think freely and not need to be micromanaged made him a valuable asset. Fire and forget.

I made working for me enjoyable and profitable and that ensured his loyalty and that of my other employees. The city stretched before me through the protection of bulletproof glass, blocking more than just deadly projectiles. Smog, filth, noise and war were all equally silenced. The only thing that got through was the pleasant warmth of the sun.

Difficult days lay before me with this pivotal action. Nothing would be easy in the foreseeable future, but I couldn't base that claim on prescience. A war was coming that I couldn't be wholly confident the glass would keep out. One that would be determined by the most sadistic, intelligent, ruthless and charismatic organization. I would be damned if it was going to turn out as any other than my own. Too many years spent building an empire to rival the Romans to let it be hindered by old ways and politics.

Soon enough the city would see the side to accept. The side that could provide prosperity and a future. Just as soon as the nasty business of crushing the feeble competition was concluded.

~~~~

Somewhere along the line I had expected breaking and entering into a secure compound, protected by a small contingency of private security, to be a little less straight forward than it had been. I suppose it can't always be as action packed as it is in the movies.

Scaling the twelve foot perimeter wall and defeating the nasty razor wire perched atop it had been trivial. The thought had crossed my mind about what the wall was really meant to prevent: entering or leaving? Perhaps it kept out paparazzi, petty burglars, protestors and solicitors. Maybe the wall simply kept in the family feline. However, against a trained professional, such as myself, a perimeter wall only offers mild annoyance.

Bypassing the infrequent roving patrols around the outside of the manor took marginally more effort, but it was still surprising simple. The most difficult moment had been when I had to sit in a bush for the ten minutes it took one guard - hired goon would be a more appropriate descriptor - to smoke and walk away. Doors covered the manor like lesions cover a leper's skin. The preferred one offered the quickest route to my objective and happened to be in the most sparsely patrolled piece of landscape I had ever seen. Normally this would arouse my suspicion, but from what I had seen of the security up to that point, kept me from paying it any mind. There was no evidence to suggest my arrival had been expected in any way.

Now I was making my way to the side door I'd chosen. I had been informed that my objective would either be in the viewing room, catching up on the late night news, or in the manor's main office. My job was always so much easier when the target was preoccupied. First I would check the viewing room and then work my way to the office. The blueprints of the manor I had looked over in the public record had showed me both locations and optimum pathways, as well as secondaries, to each possible location. There was no guarantee the objective would be at either place but, I had been told the information my employers briefed me with was reliable.

I surveyed the room for any signs of recent activity, but it appeared to be a fairly spacious and well appointed laundry room. Not a place that would see much traffic at the current hour. An expensive looking washer and dryer combo was only one of the many signs that a maid handled the manor's laundry, seamstress and dry cleaning needs. I considered sneaking onto the premise more often to secretly drop off and pick up my dry cleaning. Nothing beats free.

The door out of the laundry room opened up into a long hallway that stretched in either direction. A lack of any light indicated a lack of nocturnal usage. I considered the possibility that the interior had no such patrols as the exterior, but I was going to allow optimism to dull my caution. It was faint but I could hear the white noise of a television down the hall to my right; which would lead me deeper into the manor, just the direction I needed to go.

I heel-toed my way in absolute silence down the hall. There was very little decoration along the hall aside from the ornate, unlit light fixtures spaced evenly every few feet. The place did not seem very lived in or perhaps the objective was just not much of a family man. Voices, distinct from the TV, came to my ears and I hugged my back to the wall as I neared the end of the hall. Peeking carefully around the corner I saw the room was a large, very well appointed, living room. A massive TV dominated the far wall, damn near taking up the whole wall with a half circle of assorted couches and armchairs surrounding it.

Two guards, dressed exactly as the ones I'd seen outside, were conversing. I concentrated to block out the late night infomercial droning about some special towel in the background to more easily eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Anything good on?"

"Nah, man. Same old late night bullshit. Not even any football or basketball replays."

"You'd think the boss could afford more than basic cable."

"Probably doesn't want us watching TV all night instead of doing our jobs."

"Haha, right. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever even seen him watch the damn thing."

"You know what? I think you're right. Not like he can't afford to buy it and not use it."

"No shit, right? Well, since there is never anything on the tube I wish some shit would happen. I'm so fucking bored!"

"You and me both, man. Well, time to get back to it."

"I suppose. I'm going to go check on the boss. He's been keeping weird hours lately, usually has me bring him food."

"You think his schedule is what's weird about him?"

"Yeah well, he writes my paycheck so I mind my manners and my own business."

"True. Have fun making sandwiches for daddy."

"Whatever."

Both guards went their separate ways and I waited to be sure both were gone. I followed in the direction of the guard that was going to check on 'the boss'. I couldn't have asked for anything better to make this job easier than to be led directly to my prey.

Once I regained visual contact of the hapless goon I stayed well back and out of earshot. I followed him down hallways, through rooms and up stairs. The manor was proving to be larger than the floor plans had made it seem. Along the way I witnessed no other signs of habitation, only spartan living spaces.

I peered around the last corner I'd seen the guard disappear around and saw him tapping lightly on a door that ended the short hallway. It was the only door down that particular, short hallway. A muffled voice came through the wooden door and the guard quickly opened, entered and closed the door behind. I glanced around for a place to hide when the guard reemerged a few minutes later and found a nearby door discovering it was a closet perfect for hiding.

The guard passed, presumably on his way to the nearest kitchen (the manor was large enough for multiple), and I approached the door separating me from my objective. Light seeped from beneath the door but it was dim. That meant a poorly lit room for me to take advantage of. Delicately, I placed my head against the solid door. No sounds that I could discern came through. No ambient sound cover. Unfortunate.

With the faintest rasp of cloth on metal I removed two pistols from the chest rig that held them beneath my coat. Engines of precision, crafted from light weight polymers and expensive alloys. They were technically out of date, using gunpowder as the primary propellant for the bullet. The rounds I used were subsonic and both pistols wore sleek suppressors. Not as quiet as modern Mag weaponry but they had a nostalgic value those lacked. Call me old fashioned.

I tightened my grip on the weapons in my right hands, small teeth laser etched into the grips biting painlessly into my scales. The laser sight on the lower pistol faithfully illuminated with the depressing of a recessed button on the grip; a necessary edition since I couldn't very well use the sights, plus it was powerful enough to disorient a target if shone directly into their eyes. I took one final breath and turned the door's handle, confidently entering the room with both weapons aimed forward.

"That was fast, I - " The speaker beneath the light of a small desk lamp stopped speaking abruptly. He, I assumed from his voice, looked just as shocked as I felt. We stared at each other for what seemed like an uncomfortable amount of time before I regained my composure.

"Hands on the table, if you don't mind." I said sternly with a hint of civility. He complied once I stepped closer and reaffirmed the existence of the two weapons trained on him. A green dot sat solidly on his chest, one thin flickering green line visible in the smoke that permeated the air.

"I wasn't expecting any guests this evening." He spoke surprisingly calm for someone in dire straits. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No, thank you. I wasn't planning on staying long."

"No. I suppose you wouldn't be." He slowly reached to his left.

"Careful." I warned. Delicately he took hold of a cigar and lifted it to his lips taking a long, thoughtful drag.

"Don't worry. I won't do anything rash to expedite this meeting." He ashed the dark, leathery cigar and placed the hand back on his desk. "Are you willing to entertain a few questions before you off me?" I considered his request and decided it would be unprofessional of me not to allow such a high value target - the CEO of Hardwire Solutions - the indulgence; not to mention the fact that my curiosity had been piqued by his obvious inhumanity. Had he been Human I would already be making my escape. I knew he was simply trying to buy time until the guard returned and had to be sure to keep this indulgence brief.

"The floor is yours."

"I'm assuming LightLines sent you."

"Answering that would break my client confidentiality standard."

"Of course. You are a professional after all. You've made that perfectly clear."

"The best." I replied, keeping all emotion from my voice. Keeping my slightly narcissistic attitude under wraps was a must.

"I can't say I've ever experienced such a gentlemanly assassination attempt. I am quite impressed."

"Interesting distinction. I assure you, this is no 'attempt'. Failure is not a route I have traveled, nor do I plan to make this the first."

"That would begin to explain why I have never heard of you."

"Few have. My services are not well known, but were they are, they are in high regard." I finished my ego stroking and lowered one pistol to distract his attention as I made a quick survey of the office, moving only my eyes. The room was, by far, the most decorated of any room I had seen in the manor. Lush carpets blanketed the floor, tapestries and other examples of intricate modern art dotted the perimeter of the room and a large humidor with a single glass door, dominated one entire corner. Light reflected back at me from on corner near the ceiling. I cursed myself for not noticing the camera earlier. No doubt I didn't have much time left if the feeds were being watched. I stepped to the side, away from the door. "Time is short. Last question."

"Indeed." He drawled and took another unhurried drag from his cigar. The smoke had an earthy scent, thick with the aroma of coffee and long aged tobacco. "Are you aware that LightLines' entire board of directors was assassinated earlier this evening?"

"Why would that affect me?"

"Who is going to pay you if they're all dead?" He asked smoothly. Two thin wisps of smoke curled from his nostrils, clouding his face. I re-aimed the lowered pistol.

"I ensure payment prior to committing. Even if LightLines was my employer, their death would make no difference to me."

"It is easy enough to spoof bank transfers." Did he think I was stupid?

"Dead drops, cash only." I couldn't help the annoyance creeping into my voice, but I redoubled my focus to maintain my professional calm. My fingers tightened on the triggers.

"There is no point working for an employer that is soon to cease existing. Doesn't make for good job security." He leaned forward until his face fell under the harsh circle of light cast by the lamp. Despite my intention to kill him, he and I were more alike that I liked to admit.

"I hold no allegiances. Free agent and all that."

"Very well. Name a price."

"You insult me. That is not how I work. I've allowed this conversation to go far too long." He took one more long drag and exhaled the smoke in a long, thin stream. The cigar returned to its resting place on a crystal ashtray and he folded his hands on the desk as if he controlled the situation.

"Tell me your name. It would do my soul well through its journey in the afterlife to know my executioner."

"Sorry." I apologized sincerely, fingers slowly constricting the last remaining obstacle between this man's life and death. It would be a lie to say I didn't feel some satisfaction with each life I took. Some might say I have a God complex, I'm simply guilty of pride.

His face remained stoic and his eyes stayed locked to mine. He showed a commendable lack of fear in the face of impending death. I almost regretted what had to be done. One life would end eventually, if not tonight, for a line had been crossed and the consequences inescapable.

The door behind me flew open with a bang when it crashed violently into the wall. I didn't think before my survival instincts engaged, spinning and emptying the pistol in my lower hand into the open doorway. An automatic hail of bullets struck the two men with grotesque thumps, sending them to the floor in a gory heap, walls freshly decorated with splatters of blood like asymmetrical Rorschach inkblots. I reflexively reached for a fresh magazine inside my coat as the spent one hit the thick rug with a dull thump. Turning back to my target - loaded magazine clicking into place, slide locking a round into the chamber as it slammed forward with little provocation - I found him on my side of the desk, charging at me; unrestrained fury burning in his eyes.

I wasn't fast enough to bring him down.

He slammed into me, knocking one pistol from my lower hand and sending the other arm wide, breaking my aim. Squeezing the trigger sent a burst of bullets into the ceiling, raining plaster and chunks of sheet rock on our heads. The sound, while muffled, was still loud enough to make him flinch. It was a small opening, but enough to wrap one hand around his throat and squeeze with all my strength. He choked and dropped his weight on me, pushing me back until I tripped over the bodies of his dead goons. We both crashed to the floor and his weight crushed the breath out of me.

I kept hold of his throat and he locked an arm around the one still holding a weapon. All I had to do was maintain the advantage. We struggled, rolled and shifted position as I landed body shots with my lower hands. He grunted in pain with each strike, refusing to release my arm or stop breathing. My arm twisted against my will until the pain was too much to bear and I relinquished my pistol. Suddenly I felt his breath on my neck before intense pain burned through all other sensation. I cried out in pain, releasing my grip on his throat and slamming my elbow on top of his unprotected head as hard as I could manage. He immediately released his death grip and I shoved him off, searing pain shooting down my spine.

The bite burned horribly and I could smell the aftermath of something caustic in the air. All my energy seemed to be draining faster than I expected as I grabbed for my pistol. What the hell was wrong with me, I wondered fearfully. I brought the pistol around as I struggled to sit up, swinging the increasingly heavy weapon in my attacker's direction. By the time I got around to facing him the pistol was sitting, motionless, in my lap. Pins and needles poked every inch of my body.

He grinned down at me with blood stained lips, spitting pieces of something - me? - to his left without removing his eyes from me. "It's a shame we couldn't come to some sort of agreement without bloodshed." He said, somewhat out of breath as he carefully stroked his throat. Blood leaked between light blue scales from the superficial punctures my claws had left as a souvenir.

All the pain I'd been feeling was mysteriously vanishing, leaving behind a pleasant numbness that morphed into a strange out-of-body sensation. I was still aware of the heat running down my chest, soaking into my nice suit. He must have poisoned me, but how? I fell back, unable to support my own weight any longer and sighed. He watched me curiously, as if I was doing something wrong until I blacked out.

~~~~

"Interesting evening." I sighed to myself, slouching until my butt and tail hung over the edge of the seat, resting my head in an open palm. It had been a little over an hour since the assassin's thwarted attempt. The loss of two guards was unfortunate, but they wouldn't be difficult to replace. The net result was more work for the maid, a new rug and some fresh paint on the walls. With the state of the office it had be more prudent to retire to the lounge with the still breathing assassin.

He was an interesting one. A four-armed lizard that had managed to survive a lethal dose of venom. I would be lying if I didn't admit that that fact made me feel slightly inadequate. It was something that had never happened before. However, I've only tried to kill Humans previously, so there is that. I had other ways I could assert myself to brighten my mood; interrogation being one of them. The cherry of the cigar between my lips flared to an angry red as I puffed on it, smoking curling listlessly above my head.

The assassin was breathing quietly where I had left him, bound to a wrought iron deck chair I'd dragged inside with his head hanging like a dead thing. There was nothing else suitable that I could think of on short notice. In the future I would have to invest in remodeling one of the guest rooms into an interrogation chamber, somewhere I could more easily tie people up. The current chair was heavy and sturdy enough to not be easily moved when every limb was duct taped to it. I had no doubt he wouldn't be able to fall over and crawl away. Even if he did, by some act of God, manage to escape I had stripped him down to his - impressively scale tight - underwear and white, blood stained button-up undershirt.

I still hadn't decided what I was going to do with him. He had tried to kill me and that is a normally unforgivable act but, there was something nagging at my conscious to spare him. Perhaps it was our shared inhumanity that stayed my hand or a part of me that appreciated the skill he had. If only I could find a way to convince him to work for me instead of executing him. His kind of loyalty is not the sort earned with cash and forgotten with death. A puff of smoke warmed my lungs, billowing from my nostrils as I exhaled. I'm not the kind of man that would try and bluff my way out of something; his employers really were all fish food or soon to be. "Ha!"

"Uhhn." My tail twitched at the noise and the previously comatose man stirred. His head rolled back and his reviving conscious struggled meekly against the bindings. The blood splotched white towel that had been where I had bitten him fell off with the effort, uncovering blackened chunks of exposed flesh where scales and skin had been torn free; the acidic effects of my venom clearly evident. Fresh crimson welled slowly from beneath dark globs of coagulated blood. I picked the towel up, folded it to a clean side and pressed it solidly back to the wound. The pain seemed to bring him quickly back to reality and he hissed, pointlessly trying to push my hand away.

A strange guilt gnawed at the back of my head. Was I seriously feeling bad for causing him more pain after he tried to kill me? I must be going soft. With practiced ease I pushed my emotions aside and sat in the chair I'd earlier placed in front of him. His unfocused eyes watched me and he shook his head. The venom must still be having an effect on him, I thought. His tail still hung limp and he stopped trying to move anything aside from his head which lazily scanned the room.

"What. . .the fuck." He groaned, voice horse and intoxicated. Maybe this would make convincing him to my side easier. I grinned broadly.

"How are you feeling?" I asked politely. He licked his lips and worked his jaw side to side.

"I can't feel my face." He tried to move again and when he couldn't, looked upset. "Why doesn't anything work?"

"Because you tried to kill me, so I restrained you. Can't have you trying that again."

"Try" he asked with a confused look "I don't 'try', I killed you." The assassin frowned, tail twitching.

"Quite the opposite. I'm no worse for the wear. You, however, got the short stick on this job. Sent by dead men to throw your life away as a diversion." Fresh smoke drifted from my cigar after I ashed it on the floor.

"Dead men? Diversion? Bullshit." He hissed and when he blinked it was one eye at a time. His hampered motor functions made me wonder how much of a threat he really was at the moment.

"Before we discuss business, tell me your name."

"No name."

"Everybody has a name."

"Fuck you." He slurred, head rolling to the side. I growled, stood and grabbed his snout, staring into his eyes. He would cooperate whether he wanted to or not. "Your name." He tried to jerk free, but the movement had little strength and I squeezed harder. I could see the pain written in his expression, but his eyes remained silently defiant. "Don't say I didn't give you the easy option first." I put my other hand on his injured shoulder. He flinched as I slowly tightened my grip, claws pressing into the cotton towel. I filled my mouth with smoke and blew it out into his face; his squeezed his watering eyes shut. Five points of red appeared beneath my claws before he made a sound.

"Nalz."

"Huh?"

"Nalz!" He yelled after an extra squeeze, breathing heavily. "Fucking shit." Nalz moaned as I sat back before him.

"Well, Nalz, it is nice to meet you."

"Likewise." His sarcasm wasn't lost on me. It bothered me how little I had enjoyed doing that. Did I feel some sort of kinship with him? I decided I was going to try and avoid having to inflict pain to get what I wanted out of him.

"I hope we can continue this conversation without any further issue, Nalz."

"What do you want?" He asked with surprising clarity. Either the venom was wearing off or the burst of adrenaline had cleared his head.

"I'll be blunt. Your employers are dead, I told you that before you were going to shoot me. That fact hasn't changed - "

"LightLines wasn't my employer they were simply a contract. Whether LightLines ceases to exist anymore or not doesn't void it. My reputation demands its completion." I frowned and rubbed my chin. Nalz blinked and his hard expression faded as quickly as it had come.

"Are you okay?" I asked and leaned forward snapping my fingers. His head fell to his chest and his body slumped forward. "Damn it."

~~~~

Nalz awoke, screaming. The screaming I had expected, but the volume I had not. I cringed and continued cleansing the wound on his shoulder with some hydrogen peroxide I found in the bathroom. He would thank me later when he didn't die of infection, I thought to myself, exhaling an annoyed puff of smoke. No harm in trying to get him to be quiet though. "Nalz, shut the fuck up. I'm cleaning your shoulder, not killing you."

"What?" He whined.

"Hydrogen peroxide. You want an infection? No? Shut up." Nalz only hissed with each touch of the liquid from that point and panted. I unbutton the top of his shirt and pulled off the one shoulder, mopping up the dried blood.

"Why? If you don't kill me I-" He asked after a few minutes.

"I said, shut up. That reputation bullshit you keep spewing doesn't matter." He gave me a strange look, so I pressed the chemical soaked cloth against his shoulder and he groaned. "Your old existence won't matter if you work for me. Including your 'reputation'. The past matters little to me beyond a lesson in what not to do. From this point on is the only thing that I'm interested in."

"Things aren't that easy."

"They are for me." I said with finality, placing the folded cloth on top of the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. After that I pressed a fresh cloth to the wound to keep it clean as the bleeding had stopped. Nalz seemed to be lost in thought, but despite his fairly normal speech his head still lolled to the side as if he was very drunk.

"Who are you to be so egotistical anyway?"

"Because I'm Schism and I run the fuckin' show." I offered with a friendly smile. He tilted his head to the side as he looked at me and then started laughing. A chuckle I could have brushed off, but the way he was laughing like I had just told the funniest joke he had ever heard set me off. Him laughing at my name pissed me off more than him almost killing me. I lurched out of my chair and grabbed his throat, eliciting a choking sound that pleased me. "Why is my name so fucking funny, huh?"

"I-I don't know." He wheezed as my grip tightened, struggling uselessly to free his arms. "S-stop."

A pang of guilt echoed within me at the piteous whisper. He hadn't begged, if anything he had politely asked me to stop. I relented my grip and he coughed, a thin line of drool driveling down the side of his snout. Without thinking I wiped it away and sat heavily into my chair. The anger that had boiled to the surface faded in the silent minute that passed slowly between us.

"Why do you want me to work for you." His rasping voice brought me back from whatever place I had been daydreaming of. The question sounded surprisingly honest; there was no incredulous tone or buried sarcasm. I moved my chair closer to him and leaned back.

"You almost completed your contract. I'm not the easiest person in the world to get to. You have the kind of skills that I want aimed at my enemies, not me."

"Killing me would solve that problem." I smiled and shook my head. He was stubborn, but I was relishing the challenge.

"I know you do not want me to do that, Nalz. Working for me would change very little of how you worked before. Instead of being freelance you would only receive contracts from myself. No middle man, no hired thugs, direct from me. Live just as you did before or enjoy the perks of my employment."

"I hold no allegiances."

"Are you still on that old fashioned garbage? I'm not asking you to worship me, shit. All you have to do is kill who I tell you to." He seemed to be thinking about the idea. I took my cigar between my fingers and rubbed my eyes. "While you consider the options I'm going to get us something to drink." I stood and left without looking back.

When I returned with two glasses of water the fears that lingered that he might escape, or at least attempt to, had been unfounded. Nalz was still in the exact same spot I had left him with his eyes closed. He opened them as I approached and looked at the sweating glass of ice water with ravenous intent. I put the rim of the glass to his lips and slowly tilted it until the cold water trickled into his mouth while he tilted his head slightly back. The process was repeated until the glass was empty and he appeared satisfied. "Have you considered my proposal?"

"Considered? Yes."

"Okay - how about a conclusion?" I insisted, annoyed by his stalling. He didn't answer and instead fixed me with a strange look, one of mild interest. His head dropped along with his eyes to his lap where his brows rose in surprise.

"Huh."

"What?" I asked before I followed his gaze to his point of interest. There was nothing out of the ordinary - Oh! Perhaps I had another way to sway his opinion besides talk. He happened to be immune to the toxicity of high concentrations of my venom, but he still seemed vulnerable to the hormonal stimulation that lesser doses imparted. It could be that the much higher than normal amount I had loosed even amplified the effect. He must have been fighting the urges the whole time. My proximity and touching him must have been the tipping point. Of course, this would only work if he wasn't homophobic. You can influence body chemistry but hardwired prejudices were infallible.

Smiling to myself I moved behind him and put my forearms on his shoulders, avoiding any pressure on his bite wound, one hand rubbing the underside of his snout. "What is there that I could do to change your mind, Nalz?"

"Die." I laughed at that. The lack of conviction in the utterance and the way he tilted his head back, opening his throat to me, left little doubt that his insistence on my death was coming to an end. "We both know you don't mean that, Nalz."

"No." It didn't take long to finish unbuttoning his shirt. When my chest pressed against the back of his head Nalz made a strange noise. I tilted his snout higher and he practically moaned aloud. Leaning back and looking down at the field of stubby crimson spikes that covered the back of his head and neck made me wonder if there was something to touching them. Hesitantly I ran my hand down his head. The spikes moved easily but felt solid, springing back to their original position. I felt him writhe beneath me and groan. At first I wasn't sure if this was causing him pain until I noticed the obviously enlarged bulge straining against his underwear. Interesting, I thought to myself with a satisfied grin.

"Smoke?"

"Sure." Nalz muttered. I placed the cigar at his lips on the side of his snout and he puffed lightly at it. A thin stream of smoke jetted from his nostrils as he sighed. I moved back around and sat in my chair. While males aren't my normal preference I could appreciate the defined gray scaled torso his shirt no longer concealed. He definitely took his trade seriously enough to keep in peak physical condition; not a low-rate hitman who goes after thugs and old ladies. An idea struck me and I took out my pocket knife, flicked open the blade and knelt before the bound killer. "I'm going to prove my good will."

The razor sharp blade cut easily through the thread reinforced duct tape. Tearing the dozen layers from Nalz's scales and the chair was more difficult. At the time I hadn't wanted to risk him getting free and went a little overboard. With one leg free he did nothing threatening, moving it slightly from side to side in some self-evaluative gesture. I sat back in my chair and watched him with the task complete. He seemed to ignore me as he worked the cigar from one side of his snout to the other, alternatively stretching his legs out until he was satisfied. With that accomplished he slouched in the chair and took a long drag from the cigar. "Much better."

"Good" I smiled "believe me now that I'm not going to kill you?"

"Could just be bullshitting me." He mumbled. I sighed and stood, leaning forward with on hand on his thigh, taking the cigar from his lips. After a long drag I spoke, smoke coming out in clouds with each word. "You're much more useful to me alive. Aside from that, have I actually done anything other than what I've said I would?"

"'Spose not." I put the cigar back between his lips, both hands holding my weight on his thighs.

"What reason do you have to distrust me then? Just because I'm a 'mobster' and live in a big, fancy mansion? Or is it because some asshole at the top of a skyscraper, while looking down his nose at you, told you I was evil. You said it yourself, you had no idea who I even was."

"You did bite me. Who bites people?" I chuckled and slid my hands higher up his smooth scales.

"You killed two of my guards and tried to kill me. Let's just say we're even." He shrugged and took a drag from the half finished cigar. "Where are you from, anyway?"

"Around." I rolled my eyes and took back the cigar.

"No fucking shit." He made the face a petulant child would who has just had their favorite toy taken away. I exhaled out of the side of my snout and held the cigar between his lips, hooking my thumb under his jaw to tilt his head back. He didn't fight it and I could feel him sucking on the burning tobacco. I pressed my snout into his throat and nibbled at it, yanking down his underwear with a suddenness that surprised him. He choked on a lungful of smoke and coughed. Which kept him busy enough that he did nothing to substantially inhibit me getting the tight article past his ankles.

Oddly enough, I thought he looked fairly attractive in the blood stained shirt bottomless. I must have been wearing a self congratulatory look - cigar hanging limply - because Nalz shook his head. "If you wanted to suck my dick all you had to do was say so."

I glared at him and dug my claws into his thighs. He winced with a sheepish, lopsided grin. "Don't forget who's in charge here, lizard." I growled, leaning forward until our noses nearly touched. His nervous breath warmed the tip of my snout and I released the pressure on his thighs, sliding my hands up to his hips. His expression told me all I needed to know. "Going to be a little more cooperative?"

"I make no guarantees."

"You're just being difficult for no reason. I can see that you're enjoying this." I slid my hands around to his rear and yanked his butt off the edge of the chair. He grunted as his arms were pulled back and tighter against the chair. There was no question in his eyes about what I was doing; he seemed to be perfectly aware but made no indication of protesting what was coming. The cigar smoldered with my extended drag before I slipped it back between Nalz's lips. He puffed on it silently. When I wrapped the fingers of one hand around his member, his surprise almost saw it crashing to the floor.

He sighed as if a weight was being taken off his shoulders. The key to his cooperation in front of me all along. "This is just a sample of one of the perks of working for me. It won't be like this in the future, of course, but I can schedule a 'meeting' with one of my secretaries for you at any time." My control over him at this point was all but assured, it was as simple as squeezing a little bit here and a little bit there.

"I suppose I'll think about it." Nalz said breathlessly. I had him in the palm of my hand and it wasn't enough. Normal circumstances would dictate that this was not the way to gain a person's loyalty; my venom infecting his body changed things in my favor.

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." He grinned and the cigar bobbed as he spoke.

"And miss out on a free handy? I'll be right here waiting." I glared at him before I left. His sarcastic wit would be dealt with when I returned. His body was willing but somehow he managed to retain an abnormal rebelliousness. Biting him again with a much weaker dose than last time crossed my mind, just to ensure that the effects were not wearing away.

Nalz was sitting quietly, watching me in a state of drugged languor when I reentered the room. I had resolved to get straight to business and approached the bound lizard. My appetite for him had become ravenous and there was nothing that was going to stop me from having him. "This might sting a little." I growled, running my tongue along his jaw, salivating at the mere thought of what I was about to do. Sinking my teeth into his uninjured shoulder turned me on in ways that only being in complete control could. Nalz hissed and for a moment I felt his teeth, tight against my neck; until the new dose of venom took him further down the road into docility.

"Yes, now you are mine, in my control. I know you wouldn't have it any other way." I drawled licking at the drops of blood that oozed from the punctures my teeth left behind. Nalz didn't even blink when I stepped back and removed my pants and underwear; proudly showing off my erection. He stood at similar attention. It was interesting to know that he seemed to enjoy being bitten and out of control as much as I relished the opposite.

While running my hands down his chest I sank down to my knees, spreading his legs apart. He rewarded me with a look of surprise that morphed into pure pleasure as I dragged my tongue up his taint; leaving behind a trail of faintly phosphorescent saliva. Nosing the base of his length, poking my tongue into his slit and slipping my hands around to grip his firm ass. All of this was completely unnecessary, all considering, but if it made him more likely to switch to working for me, all the better. At least I hoped so.

He squirmed when I pressed my nose against the raised lumps at the bottom of his slit - my assumption that they were his balls was obviously correct - and ground my tongue against the supple scales. I nosed and licked my way back down to his tail, his cock bouncing as I pressed my tongue at the dimple in his tail. Glancing up at him to see his reaction, which was unsurprising, his tongue was poking out of his mouth without a care in the world. With a smile I dropped my nose down and pressed my tongue into the hesitant entrance. His reaction was immediate and loudly favorable, tailing twitching and quivering from the intrusion. A bead of pre dribbled onto his belly, giving me an idea to try something I never had before.

If I could grin with my tongue buried in Nalz's ass I would be like an idiot. Warning the trembling reptile would have taken the fun out of it, so I simple pressed my upper front teeth into the delicate scales of his taint, injecting a small dose of venom. Nalz jerked and my arms around his legs kept him from knocking me loose. I withdrew my tongue and licked at the area. The would be assassin ceased his struggle shortly, went limp and moaned loudly. "That should make things interesting," I said smugly.

"Please." He pleaded.

I fished the condom - I had no idea where this reptile had been in the past - and lube that I'd left earlier to retrieve out of the crumpled pile that was my pants. The look on his face, a mix of trepidation and excitement, made me grin as I rolled the latex down my girth. I stood up and gripped his knees, pushing them apart so I had unbridled access to his tail; the tip of which fidgeted. Nalz's face displayed a mild amount of concern as he stared at my girth so I reassured him by rubbing his snout, squirting a healthy amount of lubricant directly onto the dimple at the base of his tail. I felt him shiver as I rubbed the cold liquid around and pushed it into him with two fingers. He closed his eyes and his head dropped back once I reached the second knuckle. I could tell he was enjoying this, pleasure etched into his features once I pressed against the rigid lump of his prostate. I pulled my fingers from his tight tail - which was disinclined to release me - and spread a healthy amount of the lube onto my shaft.

Nalz being stuck to the chair made positioning somewhat problematic. It made for several awkward moments before I found a workable solution. I hooked an arm under one of his legs, pushed the other away and crouched until I was within range. One hand on the seat of the chair provided just the right amount of balance and leverage. Nalz's tail coiled around the base of mine and urged me closer.

"What are you waiting for, Schism? Do it." Nalz breathed with an amorous grin.

"Son of a bitch. You've wanted this the whole time." I grinned.

"I may be high on - whatever it is you keep putting in me with your bites - but I could see how much you wanted me. The way you touched me, looked at me-"

"Regardless, I'm still going to enjoy this, lizard. By the way, what happened to all the tough guy shit, anyway?" I asked after a pause.

"This revelation hasn't changed my stance."

"Fuck you."

"I thought that was the plan-" Nalz gasped and grit his teeth as I spread his tail, sinking slowly into him. I couldn't help but vocalize my own pleasure at the way his body attempted to deny me. "Keep fighting, it's only going to make me enjoy this more." I whispered to him, dragging my tongue across his cheek.

"Still going to kill you." He muttered, so I pressed into him until I was flush against his tail. Nalz was breathing heavy at this point and responded instantly when I began to work his length; tensing and carrying on like he was desperate for more.

"I'll get back to you on that in a few minutes." I said, grinning broadly. It didn't take long to settle into a steady pace, thrusting into and stroking Nalz in equal measure. His bliss was glaringly obvious and it didn't bother me. Clearly, I wasn't forcing anything on him that he wasn't happy to receive which, normally, would have taken some of the fun out of it for me. The situation was out of the ordinary overall so I was treading into unknown territory. His gasping and moaning only grew more frequent and more vocal with each thrust. The reptile's heightened pleasure made me wish I could feel the effects of my own venom.

In the back of my mind I noticed his tail moving in a strange manner. The tip seemed to be searching for something as it snaked underneath my own. It didn't really occur to me what he was planning until I felt the tail tip press against and forcibly enter my ass. Everything about the sensation was strange and wrong, but then it slithered a little deeper and suddenly it felt like my dick grew harder and every other sensation amplified. I wasn't about to stop him with how good his bold move felt, but the amount of time I prognosticated lasting had been undoubtedly cut short. "Think you're sly, do you?" I growled next to his head. Even I could tell my voice was gravid with lust.

"Thought you might enjoy that." Nalz grumbled into my ear between airy moans. His tail pressed a little deeper, stopping when I nipped his throat and plunged roughly into him. It was not more than a few thrusts later that he held his breath, squeezed his eyes shut and constricted around my dick. I felt his own swell slightly in my hand a moment before all the previous tension melted from his body in fits of spontaneous contraction. All the pent up seed shot onto his chest and dribbled onto my hand as I stroked him through his orgasm.

It was not much longer after Nalz's body had calmed that I followed in his footsteps. "You are mine" I rumbled, burying myself as deep in his tail as physically possible, gripping the chair and clenching my jaw with my teeth at his neck, all the earlier stress of the evening evaporating with the spilling of my spunk nto his eager warmth. Nalz gasped and twitched beneath with each small movement of my hips. I grinned at my own triumph.

Nalz looked down at himself then back up at me and said with an easy laugh, "I'm a fucking mess." I chuckled and slowly pulled out, fetching one of the damp towels from the floor. It was already blood stained so adding jizz to it wasn't going to hurt it any worse. I diligently cleaned the mess Nalz had made on himself and the left over lube on his tail. Using the same towel to pull off the condom and clean myself decided the towel's fate was for the trash.

"What am I going to do with you?" I asked aloud. I dropped the towel beside the chair and regarded him with crossed arms.

"Cut me loose from this uncomfortable chair?" He asked with a drunken grin. The amount of venom I'd put into his body over the last hour left little doubt in me of how pliable his mental and physical state was.

"Are you still going to try and kill me?"

"Not if you free me." He looked to the side in a manner that could be nothing but embarrassment. "And maybe . . . bite me again a little later." I offered him friendly chuckle and walked around behind him, bending down and growling into his ear as I cut through the tape with my knife.

"I can promise you plenty of that as long as you work for me." There was no hesitation in his reply.

"Deal."