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Iago Chernobog - better known in some circles as Indigo - was not an assassin. Contrary to what bits and pieces of rumor had foretold, he wasn’t the sort to go after anyone who breathed in his direction. Hell, even if he was paid, he wasn’t the kind of person to just kill for the sake of killing. No life was sacred to him, of course. No one held any particular importance over anyone else, and no one deserved special treatment over their fellow man. Demons, demigods, humans, whatever someone was? It didn’t matter to him. They were all the same in the end: Just skeletons in bodies trying to make the most out of a life that none of them had actually asked for to begin with. His indifference was intoxicating to some, mostly the perverse few who thought that his obvious dislike of them translated into some yearning for their company (spoiler: it didn’t), but in this case… [break][break]

Well. This case was special. [break][break]

After word spread of his unfortunate disposition, a wealthy family came into contact with him. He didn’t care to know their names, ask for their credentials, or anything of the sort. What mattered was that they were offering him a metric ton of jewels to deal with a murderer let loose in the winter wonderland of the Hinterlands, and he wasn’t about to turn them down. He wanted money. He had to feed himself, and buy new clothes, and generally exist without the hanging threat of bankruptcy putting a dent in his mood every other minute. Every second he looked at his empty wallet, he loathed the fact that the jewels from his previous mission were deemed as unacceptable to most vendors. [break][break]

Sure, they could take something ripped straight from a corpse. Bills that were bloodied posed no threat to the person accepting them. But no, when he showed bills that were only majorly damaged thanks to water exposure and a hint of brief exposure to insane amounts of heat, he was wrong for telling them to take it. Wrong for threatening them too, but he digressed. [break][break]

The point of his tangent was that, in spite of it all, he wanted to get the money. He didn’t care about the people the infamous ‘Ullr’ had killed, he didn’t care about their families, he didn’t give a general shit about whatever traumatic event occurred so far back in the other man’s past to make him commit such vile deeds. He cared about the wad of jewels awaiting him if he managed to do his job right - even if it meant working alongside others. [break][break]

He didn’t know the specifics of his colleagues as he waited at the winter border, tapping his foot impatiently against the ground. His coat had been doubled up underneath a fur shawl, scars hidden under a scarf that had been wrapped a multitude of times around his neck and jaw. Gloves covered the latent marks on his hands. His leg had been thankfully healed, meaning that he wouldn’t have been limping, but he may have been getting his ass kicked in the future if anyone found out about his identity. He didn’t know if he had been associated with the massive fit at Hargeon or not, but it was always best to play it safe. Anyone who kept up with the news in that town was likely aware of the brawl, but if they knew of the person behind it… Ah, he was worrying himself too much. [break][break]

He just had to wait for the others to get there, that was all. No matter who they were, he was confident that he would be able to do his job and get the fuck out of the area by nightfall with a load of compensation rich in his pockets. [break][break]

Hopefully it’ll be easy. [break][break]

…[break][break]

And I probably just jinxed myself. Crap. [break][break]

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