Loud music echoed through the rather large room, the whole room dimply lit by lights. The stench of alcohol was potent throughout the air. The air in the room was murky and stuffy—almost making it hard to breathe. The smell of sweat also laced with the stench of alcohol, it didn't make a good smell. Not to mention the hints of expensive cologne that came from the older men in the room, it all came together and made a hideous smell.
George had grown used to the smell, having worked in his bar for five years. The air soon became easy to breathe in, and his senses adapted to the dim lights.
The place he worked also doubled as a strip club. It was popular, to say the very least. It was in the middle of Manhattan, a large city in New York. George only worked here because he knew the manager personally, if it wasn't for him, he probably would have a minimum wage fast food job. Not to mention that the pay was amazing here. George frequently got tips, not only because most of the people who came here were rich and needed to spend it, but he was likable.
Or, at least that's how his manger described him.
"George!" He heard a familiar voice belt from across the room, trying to speak over the music. George quickly turned his head away from the drink he was making, seeing his manger.
"Hey, Phil," George gave him a small smile, turning back to the drink when Philza reached the bar counter, "What's up?"
"I need a cosmopolitan, please," Phil sat down now. George saw that he looked exhausted for some reason, but ultimately gave the reason that it was because Phil and his wife recently had a baby.
George dipped his head in a nod, immediately starting to make his managers drink. He slid the drink he was previously making to the person who ordered it and gave them a friendly smile. He didn't receive one back, considering the man looked upright in the first place. He walked behind the counter like it was nothing, soon sliding the potent drink in front of his manager.
"Thank you so much." He took a sip immediately, savoring the taste and glancing at the ladies on stage. George glanced that way as well, but quickly looked away.
George always felt weird in strip clubs. It didn't help that he worked in one, but he always got that out of his head by focusing on the drinks only. It felt as if he was watching his sister do a suggestive dance, considering he had known these women for a long time now and had grown close to all of them. Another factor was he was very gay—and everyone in the whole franchise of the bar knew that.
"What is Minx wearing on her head?" George asked out of the blue, staring at the pink wig on her head.
"Oh," Phil laughed, turning his head to Minx on stage. "She told me that some guy the other night asked specifically for her to wear a wig tonight. He said he'd pay her in private later."
George widened his eyes, letting his lips part in some sort of surprise. Nothing like that had happened before, so it confused him to no end. Pay her in private? There were two options to what he could mean by that. Kill her or sleep with her.
Assassins were a large part of the world. They have been around for thousands of years now. Increasingly getting better and better as they got more training over the years. New York was never a safe place, it was always flooded with assassins, but George learned to live his life normally without the constant fear of an assassin trying to kill him. That comfort dwelled a deep pit in his stomach for a few months now, almost like he had an intuition that something bad would happen very soon.
"Do you know who he is?"
Phil turned back to George, furrowing his eyebrows and nodding. He explained where he was sitting, pointing to a man in a suit. He looked like he was enjoying himself. A smile was plastered upon his lips, reaching his eyes and leaving creases right by his eye. His hair looked like a mess, perhaps someone was messing with it. He had sideburns flowing down to about mid cheek. His eyes gleamed against the twinkling lights, his eyes directed to Minx. She was giving her attention to him.
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Assassins love // DNFFanfiction
In a world where assassins very much exist, but you have absolutely no idea that they are even assassins. They camouflage into the real world so easily, you could never spot one unless they wanted to be spotted. However, what happens when an assass...