"Five kilograms of Ratchet white, in exchange for fifteen hundred gold pieces."
"We know the price, hand it over so we can check it."
"You obviously've never done this before."
Josef nods as he hands over the black leather briefcase. "You're right, I usually don't handle these operations. But, recent shortages of manpower means I have to take care of dirty jobs like these." The goblin shrugs, the two men opening their respective briefcases and scanning through the content inside. "Looks good to me, how's the money?" The goblin gives a scaly green thumbs up before walking off. "Nice doin' business wit' ya kiddo. Drop by the Bay sometime and I'll treat you to a drink, ya?" Josef chuckles and shrugs. "I would if I had the time, vacations are hard to come by." The goblin cackles, pulling the trapdoor open as he hops down. "Lock it for me kiddo, we'll see ya soon." Josef grunts as he quickly locks the trapdoor, hiding it with a rug once more.
"Well, that went well... I guess." Josef mused to himself as he walked out of the house. Four men eyed him from across the street, in an alleyway. They held their gaze at the briefcase the man held, and then they advanced. Four cleavers glistened briefly in the moonlight before the group of four rushed forward at the lone man. The first attack came by surprise, the blade bitting into his back. Josef stumbled forward, looking back before struggling to get to his feet. The men descended mercilessly on the wounded hitman, his blood soaking his jacket and the street. Josef screamed, weakly holding up the briefcase to protect himself. He reached for his gun, firing shots randomly as his vision started to become blurry. Two of the attackers fell to the ground as bullets dug into their bodies. One stumbled back as a bullet grazed his cheek. This was all Josef needed, the man forced himself up and began to run for the closest building. "Come back you piece of shit!"
Josef slammed his bloodied body against the door of the building. He could barely see anything anymore, and was losing consciousness fast. Thoughts rushed through his head, an impending death, but most importantly: the shipment of Ratchet White he was holding. Josef mustered the last of his strength, using the briefcase as a make-shift weapon and slammed it into the man's head. As his attacker dropped to the ground, mumbling incoherently, he began to place nearby objects into the briefcase. Stones, pieces of wood, even a potted plant was smashed and shoved into the briefcase. Josef lifted it up, and tossed it into the canal. He stumbled as he released the briefcase, and then fell onto his side before his world became a blackened mess.
The following journal entry is found on the first page, the writing neat and smooth. The entry is dated almost two years old.
Quote:I was born in Lordaeron at the beggining of what was called the 'First War'. Stormwind, my parent's home was destroyed by the Orcs and so they moved here. My name is Josef Evan, and this journal is to keep a record of my deeds and perhaps, to come clean in the future. I am currently thirty years old, employed by the local crime family in Stormwind. I work for them as a contract killer, disposing of anyone they see fit, and occasionally other odd jobs. Once my contract with them expires, another crime group might hire me, or the contract will be renewed. My past is complicated, but I'll try my best to record it for the purpose of record keeping. I grew up in a rough neighborhood, where the only respect you got was when you had enough guts to do what you wanted without fear of punishment. I was supposed to be sent to the local church to be a priest, the irony kills me even to this day. My father was killed in the war, leaving me and Ma by ourselves. I was the skinny kid that the big kids would bully for icecream and chump change. That all changed when I fought back one day, brought a piece of pipe with me to confront the local gang of kids. Broke the other kid's nose before I was dragged away, given a good beating and sent home to face my Ma. When I was finally let out of my house, a kid made me an offer. He wanted me to join the local group of hooligans, said he saw something in me after that little pipe fiasco. Years passed, and eventually bullying younger kids for a few coppers turned into robbing merchants for their week's earning. It wasn't all fun and games throughout these few years though, Ma got with another man and was pregnant with the little one. The gang's changed a lot too, used to just be me, Carlos and two other guys. In a few years, it's expanded to a healthy size, with nearly fifty members.
Everything changed when I got held up while robbing some punk in an ally down at Old Town. The guy got a hold of my leg, and dragged me down until the guards came to grab me. Got tossed into a holding cell, and everything went straight into crazy land after that. SI:7 offered me a job, an informant job to be exact. Not exactly an offer, since the alternative was to rot in a dark room for about half a decade. I wasn't going to waste away like that, so I took up the job and was let out without doing any time. Wasn't easy, I'll tell you that much. When you've been with a group of people for nearly ten years. Easy to pry information from them, but hard to deliver the information back to your new boss. I learned to suck it up over time, didn't want to screw up another chance in life. It was during this time when my sister was starting to grow up. I tried to make sure she didn't end up like me, she deserved better than that. I asked for reassignment, didn't want Carlos to find out what I was doing behind his back and retaliate. Surprisingly, the boss agreed and assigned me to act as their hired killer. Anyone that they saw as a threat to Stormwind? A quick letter to my rented room, a bit of backround information, and they would wait until I reported back with good news. It wasn't as I expected, I never got a salute from soldiers, never got any benefits. I got injured on the job? Had to pay for the medical bill out of my own coin purse.
The entry cuts off there, a signature marks the bottom of the page.
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