"Your daughter is no lead assassin!" Jareel ranted as he paced around the dim, wood-panelled room. "She does the deed, but she has no sense of flair, of patience."

The mob boss behind the desk waved dismissively.

"And she doesn't quip, either," he continued. "I've been with her on a hit, and she doesn't even taunt the traitors before they die. She just waits for the worms to stop pleading, then does it. She doesn't strike fear into the hearts of onlookers, she just kills them quietly and moves on."

"She is my daughter, heir to the business. She will deal with scum how she pleases."

"But we have Louis. Louis has flair. He could –"

"My word, Jareel, is final." His tone became dangerous.

"Fine then. Let me just say, boss, it's been a pleasure working for you all these years."

"You're leaving?" the boss finally sounded surprised. The door suddenly opened, and his tone hardened once again. "Louis?" He growled, narrowing his eyes at the newcomer.

"Well boss, you could say that I will be terminating my employment with you." Before the older man had a chance to react, Jareel had made a motion to the man behind him and a shot rang through the room.