The Graveyard was dark. The wind blew through the place, stirring the leaves up from the ground. A lone man stood, silent and watchful by a large tombstone. He stared fixedly at the archway marking the entrance, as if willing it to admit the cool fog hanging outside. Perhaps it yielded to his hard glare, for a moment later, a figure emerged from the mist. If the man was relieved, he did not show it. As the figure approached, it became clear that it was a second man. He walked with a slight stoop, his hat pulled down over his face, where his features were cold, hard, and decidedly older than that of the other man. Arriving at the archway, he looked at the inscription. SARAH DESCHAMP CEMETERY, it said, and underneath,DEATH IS BUT THE NEXT GREAT ADVENTURE. Still looking at the quote, the older man commented, “They must not have liked her very much, naming a cemetery after her.” The other man grunted, but said nothing, and continued to watch him. The older man turned away from it, he walked towards the grave where the other man was standing,.He examined it for a moment, then said,”Good evening, Roberts.”
“Evening, Slopes. I trust you have followed my instructions?” The man named Slopes chuckled softly.
“If I had, Roberts, I would’ve met you tonight in a box six feet underground.”
“Why?” Asked Roberts sharply. Slopes shrugged. “There were holes in your plan.”
“What do you mean, holes?” Slopes shrugged again.
“It was not well thought out. The number of variables were, to say the least, disappointing. They had informed me you were a professional and I am sorry to say that they are mistaken.”
“Why did you come? To tell me my plans aren’t up to scratch? Well, I’ve got news for you!
“I’m not going to hear it! You either do what I tell you or-or” Roberts clearly could not think of a satisfactory threat, so he just snarled angrily. There was a pause, in which Roberts breathed heavily and Slopes simply continued to watch him. Slopes pulled out a cigarette. The smoke was blown away by a sudden gust of wind that caused a swirl of leaves to erupt around their feet.
“Listen, Slopes. Why did you come here tonight?” Slopes smiled, but his eyes were cold.
“I enjoy your company.” Roberts swore.
“Goddammit, Slopes. If this screws up-if someone finds out, I swear to god I will-”
“Don’t worry, Roberts,” Slopes chuckled, “I’ll be silent as the grave.” He stamped out his cigarette, tipped his hat, and then walked away. Roberts watched him go with a growing sense of unease. There was something about that man...he shook himself, then followed suit, walking out of the graveyard into the night. Soon, the streetlamp shone on an empty, foreboding and the only evidence of the previous exchange was a still smoldering cigarette lying between the graves of those long gone.