workday [[open]]

He never did like coming here, he could honestly say. Within his back pocket was a gun and upon his back was a pack that concealed a bow as well as a few arrows in stock, though he was absolutely positive that all he would be needing was a single shot. Zeridone was always up to speed with his aim and he never failed when it came to his work. He was good at what he did, and he would always hold that to his pride.

The demon walked on the outskirts of the people; the man that he was looking for went by the name of Kenneth Barton, a pharmacy owner just on the outside of town. Apparently he had borrowed some money from one of Zeridone's various clients and had yet to pay it back by the limitation set upon it. The black-haired man was eager to take the job, just as he was was obligated to take all of the rest before this one.

He had what the man looked like in his mind, and he had gotten the scent of him after being in his house, and he was not there. A note had been left for his wife that he was heading into Times Square, though there was no reason as to why. Zeridone had quickly followed the trail, and just as the note had said, the man had come here.. But why? It was really no matter of Zeridone's, he was only curious.

The demonic figure walked quickly, still being able to single out that one smell throughout the hoard of people, and it soon lead him to a rest area below a canopy to block the sunlight, and there he saw the man, having a beer in the middle of the day. He looked like he had a rough life, for the demon could see the wear and tear of the years upon him. He looked stressed, some of his hair starting to gray already because of it, despite his moderately youthful looks.

Finding a back alley, he was able to climb his way up to the rooftops, and was able to dip undercover. He knelt down, resting one of his arms on the edge of the roof as the very last part of it scooped up to give people a railing if they were to come up here. Zeridone pulled out the bow and arrow, not wanting to risk using the gun in this populated area. He aimed quickly, one of his eyes closed, going straight for the head. He fired, and his target was struck dead-center, the man falling face-first into his beverage. The people acted accordingly, screaming and freaking out, and Zeridone quickly made his escape, running from the roof onto another, and getting out of there.

His job had been done.