Kickoff written by MrHedgehog

Under the Neon Lights

Baby, I'll be the moster guarding your bed.

It was one of the bad days.

No coffee at home, stacks of paperwork in the office and no coffee there either. Bakery across getting closed, getting splashed while waiting for the traffic light on the way from said bakery... And now this. Betrayed by a milkshake. Jason couldn't even tell the girl behind the counter that the pink abnormality wasn't his order - she looked so haggard, almost pushing the cup in his hands and hurrying off to serve another customer, he didn't have a heart to tell her off.

So here he was now, sitting in his car outside Charlotte's, flashing pink and turquoise neon lights irritating his eyes, strawberry milkshake in one hand and his phone in another. The digital clock on the dashboard showed half past midnight, and if that waiting game dragged any longer, Jason would collect the entire wardrobe from the cutesy little game he was playing.

Unfortunately, his phone rang, making him close the app and bid My Melody goodbye.

"Hey man, it's James from the Charlotte's.
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We have a bit of a trouble with some cameras, could you come over to take a look ASAP? We'll pay for the overtime!"

Well, if that wasn't his cue. Jason pocketed his phone without bothering to reply and got out of the car, scowling at the rowdy crowd gathered in front of the club. Walking right past, he turned round the corner and forced his body to relax, look like he belonged in that dimly-lit alley filled with stench of trash and steady beat. Blending in wasn't all that difficult, not with how Jason looked - mint-green letterman jacket with black trimming, plain black converse, baseball cap atop his messy black hair in desperate need of trimming and a baseball bat in hand, circles under his eyes too dark to be healthy.

Just perfect to pass off as a low-rate courier for the two bodyguards waiting by the [Employees only] back entrance.

"State your business," One of them demanded as soon as Jason tried to waltz inside like nobody's business. So much for passing by without raising suspicious.
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"Special delivery for Mr. Layton from his Chinese friends. Mind letting me in? Gotta go fast, I have other places to run, people out there be waiting for their pixie dust," he pulled an inconspicuous pill bottle from his pocket with a wry grin.

"And the bat? I'm sure the pitch is closed by this hour," a guard noted, hand casually resting over the gun in his pocket. Would have been so easy to just off them both, but the client demanded for discretion for some reason, so stuck with this farce he was.

"C'mon, a guy can want to feel safe on these streets. Wouldn't wanna get robbed, boss would kill me." Another shrug, and he counted seconds as the guards exchanged looks. Then one of them slipped inside, and finally a minute later the door was open.

Nodding his thanks, Jason slung the bat over his shoulder and quickly made his way inside, noting to himself that the designer of this place should definitely be fired. Red walls, tacky, black velvet carpet, even more tacky. The only thing lacking
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was some framed nude picture - oh, there it was. Grimacing as he walked past, Jason climbed up the stairs to where the supposed office should have been.

No guards on the floor, then either inside the room or Layton was too presumptuous to bother with proper security. Rookie mistake, and one Jason wasn't above exploring. Humming in tact with the beat coming from downstairs, he walked right into what looked to be the main office - if huge double doors meant anything.

"Anybody here ordered fresh dope? Special delivery for one Mr. Layton and his dear friends!" He announced cheerfully, pretending to ignore people staring at him yet slowly taking in the room. Layton, bodyguards. His target. The man's assistant, or whatever. The fun was about to begin, but for the very first time, something was off. For the very first time, his target wasn't supposed to be dead, and he didn't know what to think about it.

[Get the target. No witnesses alive. Failure is not an option.]
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