It had been just six months, Jenson recently landed a nice and fairly cushy job. All he had to do was make a nightly round to secure anyone trespassing, really just a night guard. The interview process had been pretty simple, asking a few questions about previous jobs; Museum guard, small time bodyguard, and finally a store clerk. After the personal interview came technical skill, though it only tested sidearm and unarmed capabilities.
All in all, Jenson only met his immediate bosses a couple of times, especially the bald warlard. The ‘warlord’ as some of the other men had taken to calling him seemed like just some angry archeologist, down to the zealous defense of recently unearthed ruins. These ruins were, for the time being, the place of Jenson’s job, and his direct orders were little more than ‘patrol and log every half hour’ and ‘protect the ruins at all costs’ though he believed the latter was more the older man being dramatic than being serious.
The manner of dress wasn’t uniform like he was used to, but jenson didn’t argue. It was deathly cold, so it wasn’t really a big deal seeing men with earmuffs and ski masks, even choosing to pull a mask on himself to keep warm. Great pay and a quiet job site was more than curious to the night guard, though the old adage never look a gift horse in the mouth came to mind every time; in six months, Jenson had earned more than thrice what he made in four years as a clerk.
The newfound windfall had caused the night guard to think about a better life, about a girl he was sweet on back in the states. By the end of his contract of two years, Jenson would have enough to go home and possibly start a business with his girl on his arm. A wonderful ambition, and by the way the first half year was going, an easy one to achieve.
One night, the same as just about every other night in six months, Jenson walked down a set of half destroyed stairs before gazing to the mountains around. Like usual, Jenson was soaking in the magnificent view that few people were afforded. In the next moment, Jenson felt something slam him into the wall, nearly sending him down another set of stairs followed by an almost grating voice.
“I’ma stomp a mudhole in yer chest!”
The only thing he could think of at first was ‘the hell is this guy’s problem! I’m just a watch guard’
In retaliation, Jenson had gotten up and reared his gun to pistol whip the surprisingly unprofessional looking thief. Just standing with spiky hair, a dusty shirt and jeans. It was insulting, though what came next was worse.
The thief was too quick and slid under Jenson, delivering a bone shattering punch to the groin and lifting the night guard up and over in a wash of terrible pain. The last things he heard before passing out added to the pain and disgrace, infinitely infuriating.
“Good one nate, I’ll get his gun and give you some cover”