Post by BJ Caspar on Jul 11, 2009 14:20:22 GMT -7
BJ Caspar
It had been a busy few months for BJ. He had spent so much time trying to figure the best way to kill Michael, that by the time he'd actually done it, it seemed sort of anti-climatic. Naturally, there had been tears, there had been remorse, and the entire world seemed to be in grief. That was expected. The anti-climatic bit was realising the bank account which had paid all the money for MJ's death had been in MJ's own name. It seemed that Wacko had realised he'd make more in death then in life. Good choice.
BJ was now taking on a lower profile kill. He was in Sunnydale, sent to kill someone called Cameron Chase. He used to be a prominent businessman here in town, but apparently through a combination of Tax Evasion, and too many mistresses he was now almost flat broke. But even if he was broke, he still knew enough that he was a danger to some of the wrong people. And the wrong people had figured he was more of a threat alive then dead, hence why BJ was here in The Bronze. BJ wasn't really a party or dance person, and liked his solitude more often then not. But Cameron was here tonight, and it wasn't actually that hard of an assignment. The only request was that Cameron not suffer to greatly, because they still thought of him fondly. Weaklings, but BJ wasn't exactly worried. In a public place like this any manner of accidents could happen.
BJ turned and glanced at the mingling crowd on the dance floor. Cameron was there, grooving up against some hot little 19 year old, even though he himself was in his late 40's. BJ just shook his head, and glanced down at his clothes for tonight, jeans, and a black long sleeved dress shirt. He also had a small goatee, and fake glasses, a small groovy pair that sat on the end of his nose. His hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and had been dyed black, in an effort to make him less obvious to remember. People would remember the glasses and the goatee, but they'd forget the eyes, which tonight had lenses in them to seem a hazel/blue color, and any other telling features were all removable. He literally was a ghost.
BJ went upto the bar, glancing over his shoulder at Cameron, who by now had his hands dancing so close to the other girls crotch he might as well have bent her over and fucked her right there and then. BJ smirked, once again feeling the steel of the blade against his arm under his sleeve. Cameron's death would be quick, but would also be able to buy BJ enough time to get out of The Bronze before anyone even recognized him. His fingerprints weren't on record, and never would be, and the blade would never be found. And it would all be because the alcohol he'd brought the hottie would get her to go the bathroom soon, and the second she did that, Cameron would sit down to relax. And in that instant, BJ would strike.
BJ turned back to the bar, resting on a single elbow, a slight smirk on his face. A smirk that would be forced to stay there when the barmaid came over to him. BJ recognized her, but it was impossible. She was supposed to be dead dammit! BJ had personally brought her here to die. She'd sen him dammit, and now that she was alive she was a threat to BJ! And she was heading his way, a smile on her face. Was she going to out him now? Tell everyone who he was? Cause a scene, right here and now? I mean DAMMIT this wasn't expected! And because it wasn't expected, it left BJ in a bad place. He'd have to react on instinct alone, and that sometimes ended badly. Time for thought was over though as she was here.
"Hey darl. What can I get you?"
BJ paused. She didn't seem to recognise him. Was it possible? or maybe she was just playing it cool right now to get under his guard. He'd worry about it later, for now he had to act calm.
"I'll just have a Bourbon and Coke thanks."
She nodded and walked away and BJ turned to glance back at the dance floor. Looked like his night had gotten interesting again, but he'd sort out one problem before moving onto the next.
It had been a busy few months for BJ. He had spent so much time trying to figure the best way to kill Michael, that by the time he'd actually done it, it seemed sort of anti-climatic. Naturally, there had been tears, there had been remorse, and the entire world seemed to be in grief. That was expected. The anti-climatic bit was realising the bank account which had paid all the money for MJ's death had been in MJ's own name. It seemed that Wacko had realised he'd make more in death then in life. Good choice.
BJ was now taking on a lower profile kill. He was in Sunnydale, sent to kill someone called Cameron Chase. He used to be a prominent businessman here in town, but apparently through a combination of Tax Evasion, and too many mistresses he was now almost flat broke. But even if he was broke, he still knew enough that he was a danger to some of the wrong people. And the wrong people had figured he was more of a threat alive then dead, hence why BJ was here in The Bronze. BJ wasn't really a party or dance person, and liked his solitude more often then not. But Cameron was here tonight, and it wasn't actually that hard of an assignment. The only request was that Cameron not suffer to greatly, because they still thought of him fondly. Weaklings, but BJ wasn't exactly worried. In a public place like this any manner of accidents could happen.
BJ turned and glanced at the mingling crowd on the dance floor. Cameron was there, grooving up against some hot little 19 year old, even though he himself was in his late 40's. BJ just shook his head, and glanced down at his clothes for tonight, jeans, and a black long sleeved dress shirt. He also had a small goatee, and fake glasses, a small groovy pair that sat on the end of his nose. His hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and had been dyed black, in an effort to make him less obvious to remember. People would remember the glasses and the goatee, but they'd forget the eyes, which tonight had lenses in them to seem a hazel/blue color, and any other telling features were all removable. He literally was a ghost.
BJ went upto the bar, glancing over his shoulder at Cameron, who by now had his hands dancing so close to the other girls crotch he might as well have bent her over and fucked her right there and then. BJ smirked, once again feeling the steel of the blade against his arm under his sleeve. Cameron's death would be quick, but would also be able to buy BJ enough time to get out of The Bronze before anyone even recognized him. His fingerprints weren't on record, and never would be, and the blade would never be found. And it would all be because the alcohol he'd brought the hottie would get her to go the bathroom soon, and the second she did that, Cameron would sit down to relax. And in that instant, BJ would strike.
BJ turned back to the bar, resting on a single elbow, a slight smirk on his face. A smirk that would be forced to stay there when the barmaid came over to him. BJ recognized her, but it was impossible. She was supposed to be dead dammit! BJ had personally brought her here to die. She'd sen him dammit, and now that she was alive she was a threat to BJ! And she was heading his way, a smile on her face. Was she going to out him now? Tell everyone who he was? Cause a scene, right here and now? I mean DAMMIT this wasn't expected! And because it wasn't expected, it left BJ in a bad place. He'd have to react on instinct alone, and that sometimes ended badly. Time for thought was over though as she was here.
"Hey darl. What can I get you?"
BJ paused. She didn't seem to recognise him. Was it possible? or maybe she was just playing it cool right now to get under his guard. He'd worry about it later, for now he had to act calm.
"I'll just have a Bourbon and Coke thanks."
She nodded and walked away and BJ turned to glance back at the dance floor. Looked like his night had gotten interesting again, but he'd sort out one problem before moving onto the next.