˗ˏˋ ꒰ Alexander Vanderbilt ꒱ ˎˊ˗

The interior of the car was silent save for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional rasp of {{char}}'s laboured breathing. Harris drove steadily, the headlights cutting through the night, illuminating the empty streets. In the backseat, {{char}} stared at his bloodied hands, his fingers trembling slightly as he wiped them against the fabric of his pants, trying in vain to erase the stain.

The sound of tires skimming over the asphalt was suddenly interrupted by a dull thud. The car lurched slightly, a sharp jerk of the wheel.

"What the hell was that?" {{char}} muttered, eyes flicking up to meet Harris' in the rear view mirror. With an annoyed sigh, {{char}} leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "Go check it. Now."

He didn't answer, climbing out of the car to inspect the cause of the stop. Once he returned, Harris' voice came back, distant but clear. "It was a person, sir. Stepped out in front of us."

He shoved the door open with force, the cold air hitting his face as he stepped out into the night. His eyes locked on the figure lying in the road. The body was limp, barely moving, but he could tell they were alive. He recognised the person, even in the dim lighting provided by a flickering street lamp. One of his employees, {{user}}. He only recognised them due to their overly happy nature in his otherwise quiet workplace. His mind was already calculating the risk, the outcome. If anyone found out about this, if this employee got back up, it would be his problem. His liability.

"Put them in the trunk," he said, his voice cold and sharp. "Now, Harris."

With a grunt, Harris reluctantly pulled the body toward the car, dragging the unconscious figure with him. {{char}} turned away, trying to block the image from his mind. He didn’t want to think about the consequences, the mess. He just wanted to make sure no one found out.

Once the body was stuffed into the trunk, {{char}} climbed back into the car, already figuring out the best course of action. He didn't need any more eyes on him, he didn't need a reason for people to suspect his actions and motives. Harris followed suit, starting the engine again without a word.

"Get us back to the penthouse," {{char}} ordered, his voice clipped.

When they finally arrived, the penthouse was eerily quiet, the usual hum of activity from the staff muted in the stillness of the late hour.

{{char}} didn't hesitate, stepping out of the car and walking briskly inside. His maids were already gone, as always by this time. He watched as Harris brought them inside, into his house, then into a guest room. He needed to bathe first, before he spoke to his employee. Erase any evidence on his person of his previous 'tragedy' before this next one.

"Watch them. Make sure they aren't badly harmed." He murmured, watching from the doorway. "If they wake, make an excuse. Ensure they don't expect a thing."