By: SLWatson
bank men and tycoons. The heaving mass of bodies rushed from one
bell to another, struggling to make it big or keep from getting too
deep in the hole. Men in business suits cried like babies while
others leapt for joy. It was a busy place for busy people.
Let's amend this, though. On the floor of the New York Stock
Exchange, there were investors, bank men, tycoons...
...and one assassin.
The assassin being probably the most feral of the lot.
Victor Creed had a lot of names. He was good at a lot of things,
killing being on the top of the list. He usually avoided the
frustration of the Exchange, since he was as antisocial as a
barracuda with a bad toothache, but he had offed his investment
manager because of a twenty-thousand dollar loss on Apple stocks.
So now he had to manage his portfolio alone, and he was starting to
regret killing the little worm. Still, it was only until he could
find another brave enough or naive enough to take over the duties,
and he could tolerate being there for that long.
The bell rang for the next set, and he made his way over with the
cool demeanor of a professional, laid out in a completely black dress
suit, hair slicked back, clean cut... damn, he looked sharp even if
he said so himself. The throbbing pulse of people around the trader
thickened, and as calmly as if he was getting a manicure, he grabbed
three and pitched them out of the way. The rest saw where they
landed and parted ways.
"Everythin' ya got, fifty-five a share. Now."
The little man's adams apple bobbed once, twice, three times. "Um,
sir..."
Vic smiled his most charming smile, picking the guy up by his
collar. "T'day, shrimp."
"Yes sir." The man jotted down his notes, collected the slips of
paper, and handed them over, tentatively taking the proffered paper.
The bell rang, and his heart started beating again as the massive
creature set him down and walked off amidst some worried looks.
Vic smiled to himself, thumbing through the slips. It was almost
gratifying. Not quite like killing, but if he ever got out of the
business of offing people, he could definitely enjoy being a full-
time broker.
The next bell rang, but he ignored it, eyes watching the screens high
up in the center of the room. Apple was going back up, but tech
stocks in general were still weak from their December crash. Blue
chip stock was always a good investment, and he frowned, trying to
find one that guaranteed a steady climb. Nothing in leaps in bounds,
just nice and slow. Finally he settled on First Energy and worked
his way there next.
This time, all but a few very brave or very stupid people got out of
his way. The bell rang, the rush came, he boomed over the
crowd, "Four hundred!" The man working the slips immediate pointed
to him, since he had offered the best price, and the exchange went
through.
Creed smirked, noticing the shocked looks. He had paid not quite
twice what they were worth, but he could afford to take the hit
now... he would profit later in a big way. Slipping off to find a
fairly unoccupied area, he put what he had so far in his valise, then
went back out into the mix.
"Four hundred...?" Birdy raised an eyebrow, picking up the suit
jacket from where it had been left on the floor.
"Yep," Vic answered, in the 'don't question my business sense'
tone. "Straight up, eighty-five shares an' I'll bet it'll climb ta a
whole lot more'n that."
"Anything on the NASDAQ?"
"Not this time. It's levelin' out, but I don't think it's gonna
climb much more." He frowned, kicking back in his desk chair and
taking out a long Cuban. "Any applications for th' broker's job?"
She shook her head, lighting the cigar. "Nope. Think ya scared 'em
all off, boss."
"Damn," Creed grumbled, puffing on his stogie. "Means I'll have ta go
back, doesn't it?"
"Only if you wanna trade," Birdy answered, shrugging. "Nothing says
ya have to."
"Yea I do... fuck." Vic opened his valise, going through the winnings
of the day with a careful eye. After a moment, he got out a
calculator, a legal pad and a pen, going to work out profit margins,
rate of growth and interest increases.
Birdy watched for a moment, shaking her head to herself, then turned
to leave. She looked back once more though, noting the halfway grin
he wore, and chuckled quietly to herself, "Creed Investment
Services... fuck indeed."
