Frederick Austin adjusted his name badge that read "Stephan Theopolous". Not that anyone needed to be informed of his name, they all knew it already. His designer leather brief-case chafed against his shoulder. It was bursting at the seams with papers. He needed to buy a new one, and made a mental note to inform Julie.
The lights flickered on, and the air was met with a luminous glow. The sidewalk was cracked and large buildings loomed over it. Shadows were cast everywhere. He shivered. Although he was a powerful tall man, the dark streets still scared him. There were untrustworthy people around, after all. He wished he had taken his limo home, but his personal trainer had demanded for him to get some exercise in everyday or otherwise his pot belly would turn into something more. He turned a corner and marched sternly forward, trying to suppress his feelings of fear. He was nearly home, nearly back to his darling Andrea. There was no one around, he would be okay, he reassured himself.
A bolt of fear flashed through his body as a hand grabbed onto the leg of his trousers. He almost screamed, but somehow he managed to maintain his cool demeanor. His head turned to face whoever it was -whatever it was- that had grabbed him. He took in the sight before him and almost collapsed in relief. It was a old homeless man, with toothy frown. Frederick was sure he could fight him off if necessary. The mans eyes were downcast, and his other hand was fumbling something gold. The man looked up at him. His irises were completely black, bottomless hole that fell into his soul. The only problem was -as Frederick turned cold and realised- he didn't seem to have one. Frederick had always been scared, but he had never felt more scared in his life.
The man though, did nothing scary. He just gave him at sorrowful look and offered him the golden coins that he had in his hands. "Drachmas?" A voice echoed in Frederick mind, remembering his high school history class. He shook his head, no they couldn't be, if they were, the homeless man would have sold them to get out of the pitiful state he was in.
"You're going to need this" The man insisted, interpreting his head shake as a no. He dropped them into his hand and let go of his trouser leg. Frederick hand clenched around him, knowing that he would. He didn't know why, and this scared him even more. Frederick nodded blankly at the man and hurried off, struggling to calm his nerves.
He would show them to Andrea, he told himself, promising that everything was okay. It always had been, and it always will be. Andrea would find them, interesting, he would make everything okay. He would, he always did. Andrea, his secret, that no one knew of. He was home, he stepped up the stairs...
The next day, early in the morning, Frederick Austin was found murdered outside his front door. A bullet wound in his head was bleeding profusely. He had nothing in his hands, and his briefcase was flung a few metres away.
Construction criticism wanted, so if you feel like it, please.