01.
Just another day on the job.
The sun was already setting and casting its angry orange glare off every skyscraper Keller passed, but he hadn't received the phone message from Robson until late afternoon, and by then it had been too late to catch the target leaving work to follow him. Schillinger knew his habits, his workplace and where he lived, but Keller had been forced to find all this out for himself, watching the man from the safety of his unmarked car. His boss liked making him work for his kills, but in a way Chris didn't mind. It kept him busy, kept him on his toes, and meant that he could trust the information that he discovered for himself rather than relying on Vern or his cronies to come through for him. Keller didn't trust, easily or ever, even when it came to the men he worked for. In a way, especially when it came to them. They loved the business, the business of exerting fear and power over others, but Chris just did it for the fun of it. And, sometimes, the money.
Like today. He stood to gain a sizeable chunk of change for whacking this uptight lawyer, a cute blond from the richer area of the city from what he had seen, and it hadn't taken much digging for Keller to find out why Schillinger wanted him dead. Two sons convicted by the same man, any self-respecting mobster would have him taken care of too, but Chris held a certain distain for a man who sent another to do his dirty work, even if that other was him. Keller had always been very hands on; if you wanted something done, it was always best to do it yourself.
Chris had parked his car a few blocks away and walked the distance to the bar he had discovered was the favored after-work retreat for this 'Tobias Beecher', criminal law, autumn in the city meaning he was forced to combat the crisp air with a leather jacket over his typical tight-fitting white long sleeve. He had watched the lawyer enter the bar from his observation spot across the street about twenty minutes ago, given him some breathing room, and then made his way across the street and followed him in. Keller was an expert at stalking his prey; this poor son of a bitch would never even see him coming until it was too late.
The sun was already setting and casting its angry orange glare off every skyscraper Keller passed, but he hadn't received the phone message from Robson until late afternoon, and by then it had been too late to catch the target leaving work to follow him. Schillinger knew his habits, his workplace and where he lived, but Keller had been forced to find all this out for himself, watching the man from the safety of his unmarked car. His boss liked making him work for his kills, but in a way Chris didn't mind. It kept him busy, kept him on his toes, and meant that he could trust the information that he discovered for himself rather than relying on Vern or his cronies to come through for him. Keller didn't trust, easily or ever, even when it came to the men he worked for. In a way, especially when it came to them. They loved the business, the business of exerting fear and power over others, but Chris just did it for the fun of it. And, sometimes, the money.
Like today. He stood to gain a sizeable chunk of change for whacking this uptight lawyer, a cute blond from the richer area of the city from what he had seen, and it hadn't taken much digging for Keller to find out why Schillinger wanted him dead. Two sons convicted by the same man, any self-respecting mobster would have him taken care of too, but Chris held a certain distain for a man who sent another to do his dirty work, even if that other was him. Keller had always been very hands on; if you wanted something done, it was always best to do it yourself.
Chris had parked his car a few blocks away and walked the distance to the bar he had discovered was the favored after-work retreat for this 'Tobias Beecher', criminal law, autumn in the city meaning he was forced to combat the crisp air with a leather jacket over his typical tight-fitting white long sleeve. He had watched the lawyer enter the bar from his observation spot across the street about twenty minutes ago, given him some breathing room, and then made his way across the street and followed him in. Keller was an expert at stalking his prey; this poor son of a bitch would never even see him coming until it was too late.