Job interview

(a prompt I thought of. The theme? Job interviews. I may be projecting with my lack of luck, but writing about it feels somewhat cathartic.)

What a busy day, thought Ellen. The office waiting room was filled with people for a position being offered at Riposte Forging. She found it odd that a company that specialized in creating steel weapons would draw so many interested parties. But, she was the receptionist, she reasoned. There should be no vested interest in the whys and the wherefores, as long as her paycheck hit the same time every other week. 

She shrugged, accepting it as something that isn't a worry. Time for the next applicant.

"Daniel? Daniel Mi-oh dear..Mi-ehhhh..."

 

A tall gentleman dressed in a dark blue suit raised his hand tentatively. He brushed away the stray strands of his midnight blue hair and smiled almost apologetically to the woman. 

Ellen peered over her bifocals at the young man. "Are you Daniel?"

He smiled in response, his smile almost disarming in its brilliance. 

"Yes. Daniel Miekka. Pronounced Me-yeh-kah."

She made a face and made a small notation on her clipboard. 

"Mr. Me-YEH-KAH, you're wanted in the next room." Ellen then pointed to a room straight ahead, the door slightly ajar. 

Daniel smiled, picked up his attache case and went to the area in question. He had to laugh to himself in a way. It's odd to see that someone actually gave enough of a damn to try to pronounce his last name, and then overemphasize it in a show of learning. Either one or the other; can't be a nice equilibrium, he thought.

He made it to the door and gently pushed it inward. The room itself was enough to make him temporarily lose his composure. He was greeted with the sight of large cathedral style windows, marble from the ceiling to the walls, and a large rectangular skylight which only enhanced the room. Straight ahead lay his potential employer. Seated behind a a large oaken desk was James Luther Agares. His bearing was exactly in tune with the type of person who would find this ostentatiousness impressive: greasy slicked back hair, opened shirt collar to show off expensive jewelry, the lot. 

James looked more like a used car salesman than the CFO of an analog weapons company. With a cigarette balanced precariously on his lips, he nodded and gestured to Daniel. 

"Come in, my lad! Come right in!"

Daniel smiled to himself. All that motion and not a single bit of ash dropped onto the floor. Amazing. 

He stretched his hand forward to James. 

"Daniel Miekka. Nice to meet you, Mr. Agares."

James took his hand and shook it vigorously with both hands. He was surprised at the strength in the hands of this middle aged man. James let go and then gestured to a nearby thick wooden chair. 

"Pull up a seat, m'boy and let's chat."

Daniel stowed his case underneath his arm and grasped the chair in question. He figured it wouldn't be the right sort of thing to drag it across a floor he couldn't afford. Daniel set it down gently and James nodded his approval.

"Good form, lad! Good form! You know quality when you see it and take care to preserve it. I like you already!"

After sitting down, James leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk. "So, what brings you to Riposte? I did read your curriculum vitae and it seems like you've been rather well connected. However, I want to hear it from you; what has you at my doorstep?"

"Well," began Daniel. "I try to keep my ear to the ground about handmade weapons that aren't guns and two agencies are at the top of everyone's list: the della Spada family, and you with Riposte. I've been with the former and they left me wanting, so I wanted to see what made you the best."

That seemed to brighten James up to no end. He took his cigarette out of his mouth and smiled broadly, teeth stained slightly by nicotine and coffee. 

"Now that's what I like to hear; tried the rest and now you seek the best!"

Snuffing the cigarette out, he then clapped his hands as if to shift gears. 

"Right! So, you were with the della Spada family. Old family, honorable, etc. But did you learn anything from them? Anything that would oh, I don't know, translate well into working for us?"

Daniel clutched the case nervously, voice shaking slightly. 

"Funny you should mention that...there was something of interest I grabbed before I left."

Greed shone in his eyes and he could barely contain himself for wanting to grab it immediately.

"Well, out with it! Let's see it!"

He gingerly took the stack of papers out of the case and held it firmly. 

"Do you mind if I circle around to your side? There's a few things I need to point out. In the rush to leave, I didn't get a chance to highlight them..."

James beckoned for him to come over. 

"Of course, it'd be churlish of me to not have you come over. You come bearing gifts and I must oblige!"

Daniel got up and walked over, head slightly bowed. He then gently placed the thick ream of files in front of James. 

The sword, spear and shield emblem of the della Spada family  was embossed on the front. 

It was valid, thought James. This boy brought me a veritable gold mine. 

Daniel leaned over the desk with James and began pointing out a few things he found interesting. 

He then stopped at a long paragraph, tapping it with his perfectly manicured nails. 

"Now this, I feel you need to see this."

James squinted and began to read the paragraph in question. 

"James Agares, CFO of Riposte Forging met with an errand boy of the della Spada family on January 26 2001. There was a deal in place for a possible merger with the errand boy expected to return with the necessary paperwork. But this never happened. Our security forces made it a point to follow the boy to make sure the area and deal were secure. The boy was spirited away by Riposte forces and found an hour later, bound inverted to a tree, stripped naked and all but bled out. Agares plead ignorance, but our forces saw otherwise. Could not engage. Also missing was a case filled with unmarked bills, totaling 90K. Not found."

James was in a cold sweat. The room was a balmy temperature according to his tastes, but he felt none of it. A chill washed over him and a cold leaden weight settled into the pit of his stomach. He turned slowly to Daniel, who was standing tall and looking at him dispassionately.

"W-who are you?"

Daniel pulled his hair back with a hair tie and slipped on leather gloves, talking all the while.

"You do know the credo of the della Spada family, yes? 'La nostra vendetta non conosce tempo; è inevitabile e completo.'"

He looked at James, trying his level best to scoot away from Daniel, sweating profusely all the while.

Tut-tutting all the while, Daniel reached out and held the chair firmly with one hand. 

"Now now, I didn't run from you while you were talking. The least you can do is ask what that means."

James' throat went dry. He tried to gasp out the requested query, but words were failing him.

Daniel sighed, obliging him. "The motto is Italian, of course. It means 'our vengeance knows no time; it is inevitable and thorough.'"

He then slapped him heartily on the back three times. there was a slight thwip sound each time. 

Daniel then slipped off his gloves, snatched the file and tossed it in the fireplace. 

"Nice that you keep a roaring fire here. Must be lovely in the deep winter months."

"You're not going to do anything to me?"

Daniel looked offended at the notion and laughed. "Oh me? No, no. That's not my thing." He paused. "I tell a lie. It is what I do, but I'm just freelancing at the moment. And by the way, Daniel isn't my name."

Feeling a little emboldened by escaping death, James attempted to put some bass into his voice. 

"Oh, and who are you then?"

Daniel grinned wolfishly. "Christian Giovanni della Spada; second son to Carmine della Spada. Oh, and also the leader of the Italian Assassination Cell. Good day."

Christian opened the door and made his exit. The door clicked shut.

James sat back, sweat drenching his finery. 

Holy hell, he dodged death. Not only did the son show up, but the son that's on the assassination team. 

"Maybe I should play lotto," he mused aloud. But he had no time to make flippant jokes. If he showed up, that means more trouble ahead. His heart beat loudly in his ears, adrenaline coursing like mad. The damned fool could've had him, but he walked away. 

The della Spada family were feared, true. But also too damned honorable for their own good. He grinned. He will get vengeance for this insult. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He clutched at it in shock. It happened again. At first, he discounted it as an adrenaline spike and something to write off. But the pain persisted. Before he knew it, he was on the ground coughing and in unimaginable pain.

The door burst open with Christian in the lead, Ellen bringing up the rear. He knew Christian was talking, but only heard every other word. 

"...having....attack. ...ambulance.."

Ellen hurried out to get help, leaving the two alone.

Christian leaned down on the pretense of administering first aid. Leaning close, he whispered to James as he writhed in pain.

"The della Sparda is nothing to be trifled with. As you now know." He flicked his wrist quickly and a thin blade with a hole in it appeared. 

"Using a needle with no fluid and just air causes a fun reaction, y'know? Oh. You do know. And on that note; Scendi al tuo trono all'inferno, bastardo." (Descend to your throne in hell, bastard)

James' eyes widened in fear and he gave a strangled cry, and then there was silence. 

He quickly dug into his pockets, producing a small cellphone. Taking a quick picture, he then stowed it out of sight. 

One last performance before Christian leaves.