A pair of vagabonds wonder through the narrow alley, their gait would suggest that they are both intoxicated. The sun beats down on the garbage and recently wet asphalt causing the stink of the alley to intensify with the humidity. The brick walls of the buildings that encase this area are tagged with various forms of graffiti that are in different degrees of detachment. The vagabonds find a spot in which they find appropriate and sit down. They soon begin to pass a green bottle back and forth. The fire escape vibrates slightly as a tall man steps onto it from the roof.

His expensive custom suit reveals him immediately as someone who doesn't belong within a mile of this alleyway let alone in it. He sets his briefcase down lightly next to his feet and unbuttons his gray jacket. His perfectly shined shoes shift as he takes a couple steps forward on the fire escape. His sunglasses hide the piercing eyes surveying the alley. He wasn't told exactly what he was waiting for only that he would know when he saw it but so far he saw nothing that stood out.

A gentle breeze kicks up a whirlwind in the corner of the alley. A plastic sack dances along the asphalt toward his end of the alley. His phone vibrates in his pocket. He retrieves it and puts it to his ear while tapping the green accept button. He says nothing. He doesn't need to. A very familiar voice, deep and almost soothing speaks to him for about 20 seconds before he continues his silence as he hangs up and slides the phone back into his pocket. His black hair styled into a pompadour doesn't move against the breeze.

With a single hand he reaches up and pulls his $500 shades down to the bridge of his nose to reveal stark blue eyes that are scanning the alley. His fists clench at his side. "Is that him?" The thought arises.

Tobias stared through the bottom of his empty bottle, frustrated that he could no longer get drunk since there had been several attempts at his life and he didn't know when the next one would be, just that it probably wouldn't be another thug. He'd killed the last few with his bare hands. He hid out in this alleyway because it was a closed space and as such he was unlikely to get sniped. To sleep, he snuck into a fourth floor warehouse in an alley at the opposite end of the street, being very careful to keep to cover during the journey. But right now, he was in West Point Back Alley. The rest of the dangerous, violent regulars had learned quickly to not bother him, so as the only grubby, unwashed thug there who looked relatively relaxed, he'd stand out to a professional.

That said when he noticed a well-dressed man with a briefcase arrive in the alley, the sense of relaxation left him and he bristled. He didn't think he was suspected yet, but even so, he wanted to close the gap between them. When things kicked off, he wanted to be as close to fist-range as possible in case his assassin had a gun.

"Oi!" he shouted to the gentleman, assuming the character of another thug. "How much is that jacket worth?"

Mr. Wolff looks down from the fire escape at this punk who obviously has no idea what kind of man he is. The thought of simply erasing him from existence crosses Mr. Wolff's mind and the thought lingers for longer than a moment. On one hand, a body would draw attention and he'd have to find his query at another location. On the other hand this thug who is underestimating him will mostl likely just escalate things and will have to be taken down anyway. It is quite the conundrum.

The accountant smoothly pushes his shades back up to his eyes while looking at the thug, his decision made.

"Wrong place wrong time kid." He responds condescendingly.

He swiftly tosses the briefcase up and pops it open with one seamless action. His bow seems to fly out of the briefcase on it's own and spring to life. The Accountant snags a few arrows and notches one as the briefcase lands on the metal of the fire escape with an echo that reverberates through the alley. As the black briefcase settles near his feet Mr. Wolff has already acquired his target and is letting his arrow fly.

The eccentric gentleman had armed himself so quickly that Tobias was suddenly very glad that wasn't a gun, or he'd be dead. Though he dived out of the way, the arrow grazed his ear enough to draw blood. He didn't have to to think about this as he had to get to his feet before that bastard readied another arrow. Besides, by moving at the speed he had, he'd given himself away as either a box or a good fighter, either one marking him as the target. It was not literally a question of life and death to get as close to this guy as possible.

He rolled towards the assassin, landing on his feet and hoisting himself up in an impressive display of leg strength, before running full pelt at the fire escape that housed Mr. Wolff. Even if he couldn't reach the man, he could at least reach the stairs, and receive some primitive kind of cover.

After letting the first arrow sail toward the man, Wolff was already notching another to fire again. The thug dives and narrowly avoids a fatal shot. Wolff is surprised at the dexterity that this man displays and aims the next arrow for the chest. It flies but strikes pavement as the man who is most likely his target rolls forward toward the fire escape. Wolff knows once he hits the fire escape the closer quarters will make his bow much less effective. Wolff begins running down the stairs with the audible sound of the fire escape swaying back and forth with his momentum. Wolff takes a smoke arrow and quickly fire it toward the bottom few steps.

Wolff's plan, if he could find the opportunity, was to use the smoke screen to keep his distance from the punk below him. The smoke would bellow out and give him the chance to either jump down from the fire escape or simply catch the would be attacker off guard. Either way it was better than letting the guy get to the stairs and use them for cover as he closed the distance.

The Accountant's briefcase remains seemingly empty at the top of the stairs while the few vagabonds start to leave the alley in fear of being caught in the crossfire.

As soon as the smoke started, Tobias covered his mouth with his jacket and thought about the decision he could make. He could stay where he was, momentarily safe due to the reduced visibility, but he immediately dismissed this as he couldn't see his foe, and all he had to do was get to another vantage point and he'd have essentially won. In his mind, the better possibility was to reach the stairs. This had two advantages. One was that he'd be clear of the smoke enough to see his foe. The other was that there'd be less distance to close once the two could see each other again. So he ran out of the smokescreen, through care or caution to the wind, and practically throwing himself against the bottom of the staircase before he began to climb.

The smokescreen was successful in that Wolff witnessed the man being enveloped by the thick cloud as he leaped from the fire escape. The accountant performed a near perfect flip while putting an arrow to the string of his bow. Upon landing his knees bent slightly from the force of the impact, absorbing some of the momentum and he stood back to his full height of over six feet. Wolff eyed the cloud, looking for any variation, any disturbance or light change that would give his opponent away.

It was the sound of a person colliding with the fire escape that ultimately gave him away. Wolff let his arrow go and quickly fired 2 more in a small spread directly at the base of the stairs. Down here the stench of the alley was much more apparent. It seemed to radiant from the very ground beneath them.

The spread of arrows clattered close around Tobias, making him flinch and take cover for a valuable second he couldn't afford to lose. Cursing, he started to run up the stairs, shrugging his jacket loose as he did so before pulling the neck of the jacket over his head. The thick leather would be enough to slow an arrow and might save his life. The closer he got to Wolff, the less stairs there were between them, and therefore less cover. That's when things would get ugly, but Tobias had to get within striking distance to his assailant or he was dead anyway.

The instant Mr. Wolff let his arrows fly he was already getting another ready. He heard the distinct sound of his arrows hitting metal and asphalt as he rushed toward the bottom of the fire escape. Using one hand to vault the railing while the other continued to hold the bow and arrow firmly. He sailed over the edge and landed safely with a thud on the ground. He looked up just in time to see the man burst from the cloud of smoke running upward. He shrouded himself with his leather jacket as if protecting against the rain.

Wolff quickly pulled a second arrow and notched it, aiming this new explosive tipped arrow of death directly at the fool. The explosion would be danger close as impact would be mere feet away above him. Wolff let the arrow fly and immediately took several large steps back until he felt the wall against his back.

The shockwave of the explosion knocked Tobias back hard, causing him to come crashing down the stairs until he landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs, a good few layers of skin burned off his face, and his hair messy and smoking. Still, in his mind, he know the situation was too urgent for any time of recovery. Getting back to his feet took a herculean toll on every single one of his aching and bruised muscles He managed it, though, and began limping as fast as he could towards the assassin. There was no longer any cover, but they were both on ground level. He could still win.

He heat from the small explosive was intense at this distance and Wolff's face scrunched in the wake of the detonation. It was one of those moments that made Wolff happy he didn't have facial hair as it would likely have been singed unevenly across his face. His eyes were shielded from the heat by his shades which remained steadily in place. A figure had fallen like a sack of potatoes to the asphalt at the bottom of the stairs. Upon further inspection The Accountant could see that it was he charred flesh of the man who was attacking him. The burns he had suffered would wreak havoc on his body. That kind of pain is near intolerable even with appropriate medications, let alone without.

The man pulled himself up slowly and began to stagger his way toward Wolff, who found a quiet admiration in the inability to give up.
"Respect." He thought, knowing that as soon as the man's adrenaline stopped coursing through his body he would begin to feel more of the pain and likely go into shock.

"Sorry bud, When your name is on the list..." Wolff stated coldly as he notched another arrow, "There can be no other outcome."

Wollf let this arrow go, aimed at the heart.

Tobias grinned grimly at the words his assasin was speaking. He thought it was over. And who was Tobias kidding? It probably was, but he wasn't going down without a fight. The very least he could do was give his assassin hell before he went down. Who knows? Maybe he'd actually win somehow? Spitting out a wad of blood, and thinking 'crap, somethings bleeding inside me' as he did so, he looked up at Mr. Wolff was he aimed at arrow right at Tobias' heart and released. Tobias, thinking quickly, raised his arm into the path of the arrow and grunting in pain and annoyance as the arrow impaled it all the way through, yet stopped before it reached his cheat. His left arm was probably out of action now, and he may pass out from pain at any second unless blood loss gets him first, but on the bright side he was now within striking range. With his right arm, he swung his hardest punch, the killer punch that got him into this trouble, right at the assassin's face.

Wolff watched through his tinted world as the man opposite him blocked the arrow with his arm, saving himself from death at the cost of his own limb. Tough and smart, considering. The muscles in his arm and possibly ligaments were torn enough to cause that arm to be useless. It appeared limp as the man cocked his other arm back to throw what looked like a hail mary type of punch. He was smart to not pull the arrow out as it would hasten his descent into the afterlife but the punch was surprising to say the least.

Even with the telltale cocking of his arm, the punch came fast, and Wolff's biggest saving grace was the fact that the guy's charred body had to have slowed him some. Wolff put his arms up just in time to catch the fist against his forearms. The blow had a lot of force behind it, enough to stumble Wolff to his right and cause him to drop the arrow he had in hand. Instinctively, Wolff swung his backhanded left fist, still gripping the bow, and was quickly following it up with his right. He anticipated that the man could duck the backhand, this was a flare move afterall not intended to do damage. It was his right that was going to track his opponent's reaction that was going to do the real damage.

Just like a boxer, and running on sheer muscle memory at this point, Tobias ducked the backhand, feet sliding into a boxing stance as he did so. His left arm was pierced aqt the forearm so he could still use it as a functional defensive arm. It was only a shame the arrowhead was on his side of the arm, risking hitting that would have been a good deterrent. In his boxing stance, left side closer to the assassin than his right, which was his offensive arm now (it wasn't usually. Tonias was left handed), Tobias aimed a quick jab at his foe's upper gut. He was too slow in this state, trying another strong punch would get dodged again. This quick punch wouldn't hurt much but might wind his opponent, fortune letting.

Wolffe witnessed an incredible dodge by the charred remains that stood before him. It was nothing less than a miracle that the extra crispy flesh of man had moved as well as he did. Remarkable still was the ability of the man to continue fighting, offering a quick jab to Wolff'es midsection. The Accountant was able to step back enough to make the jab feel like soft poke to his abdomen. It was obvious that this punch wasn't thrown with any power behind it but it was hard to tell if the guy was feeling gassed or simply knew that a heavy punch would be too slow.

Wolffe used his momentum to glide backwards a few more steps while letting another arrow loose at man who didn't realize he was dead quite yet.

The arrow embedded itself in Tobias' chest, and indeed he didn't register that he was quite dead yet. As blood began to saturate his vest, he still advanced, throwing punch after punch that were either slow and easy to dodge, or very weak. After a while, Tobias stopped, and grinned, and sighed.

"Well, you can't say I didn't go down fighting," he remarked, before falling to his knees, and looked up at his assassin with calm defeat until the light left his eyes for good, wherupon he crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

Not a soul on earth could say that kid wasn't a fighter, but just like Wolffe everyone ends up dead one way or another. Wolffe considered himself lucky that he had the advantage from the start. Had the guy been closer it could have been him who was crumpled into a lifeless heap on the hot asphalt in the middle of that alley.

The account flipped the guy over and retrieves his phone from his pocket. He snaps a quick picture and sends it. A murmur builds as usually happens when witnesses are around but this isn't new for Wolffe. He calmly returns to his briefcase and closes it with a definitive click before leaving the alley as if nothing ever happened.