Austin surveyed the airport from behind the glass handrail. Arms crossed, a suitcase by his feet, and a seemingly peaceful expression on his face.

Looking down from the fourth floor, he watched the beehive of activity.

Businessmen in suits. Colorful tourists. Flustered families. The lights and smells of restaurants, cafés, shops. And the cacophony of trollers on pavement, escalators humming, and a thousand people talking about their problems blended in his ears.

Austin had always liked the airport.

It was a whole miniature world in here.

He stepped away from the handrail and plopped down on one of the numerous couches that dotted the lounge. It was quieter up on the fourth floor, and a lot dimmer too.

Austin closed his eyes for a moment and tried to forget about everything and concentrate only on the softness of couch.

But it wasn't possible.

"No, apparently the flight's been delayed. Of course I slept well, you know how well you sleep on a plane."

Austin saw a young lady on his right talking sarcastically to another face through a computer screen.

She seemed like a curious, sharp woman. Not a regular tourist for sure. Maybe...reporter?

There was also an older man in the vicinity; this one clearly a businessman of some sort. He had a briefcase, similar to Austin's, propped on the coffee table and an indescribable expression on his face. But the rest of the floor was empty.

Austin sighed and lied his head on the mattress again. The reflective material of the ceiling blinked his reflection back at him.

She was going to a new country to dig up some scoop. He was on some important business trip.

But Austin...Austin was on a mission to kill.