"David Flores, it's a pleasure." Los Angeles smiled briefly but remained standing, leaning back on a wall to listen to the pastor. 

Los Angeles nodded in understanding, "There's no need. I can understand what he's going through and I'm not exactly the picture of friendliness myself." He allowed himself a brief, rueful grin and for a moment he felt a twinge in his heart. He'd seen stories like this dozens of times over. Honest, hard-working, decent people struggling to survive. And the compassionless puppetmasters and puppets who rob them of that. 

This man was a good man. The kind of man that might have saved Los Angeles when he was younger. But those days were past. Los Angeles was not a good man. At this point he was hardly a man at all, just a cluster of organs, brain functions, and the occasional flash of emotion. This moment spurred one such flash of Humanity. It was snuffed out almost instantly. The high road was the hard one. And it was often cut short. Los Angeles made a commitment to make it quick and painless. 

Los Angeles adopted a grim expression and reached into his coat withdrawing a slim black wallet-sized object and flipped it open revealing a very convincing fake DEA badge, "That's actually exactly the kind of thing I want to talk about, I just needed to get you alone. Special Agent David Flores with the DEA. I'm part of a joint FBI-DEA Task Force investigating Cunningham. We need to put a stop to him and I think you can help us." 

He walked forward and replaced the badge in his jacket drawing out a piece of paper and a digital voice recorder. He placed the piece of paper and slid it forward while activating the recorder and placing it on the table as well, "These are a list of people we believe Roman Cunningham is looking to kill." The paper listed all of the targets except for the pastor himself, "You're a pastor. You have your fingers on the pulse of this community." Los Angeles went back to the door and locked it and closed the shades into the office.

Los Angeles poured the traces of empathy and compassion he had for this man into his eyes as he looked at him, "I know it's a risk but we're willing to offer protection. And if you can tell us everything you might know about these people, we could use it to better protect them. We could save lives. And anything you can tell us about Cunningham: anything at all, even rumors it'd be a great help." Los Angeles placed his hand on the pastor's shoulder, "We need your help. You have a chance to bring down the forces that are destroying this community." 

He kept the recorder on and let the pastor talk. Whether he told him or not, he listened in full. After the pastor was done speaking he turned off the recorder and recovered the list and device before saying, "Thank you James you've been a big help. Just know we're going to get this guy." Los Angeles placed his hand around his shoulder again and walked behind him. A knife flashed into his hands from the sheath on his forearm. Long, flat, and sharp it was made for thrusting deep into flesh. He drew it by the handle and flicked it in his wrist so the business end pointed at the man's skull. The hand on the pastor's shoulder rushed to cover his mouth while the knife flashed forward. 

The blade sank into the Pastor at the base of the skull and before the first vertebrae. It happened with such speed, the knife and hand were a blur as they rushed into the Pastor who barely had any idea what was going on before he died. His spinal cord was severed and his breathing and heartbeat stopped instantly. Los Angeles' hand remained over his mouth on the off chance he made any noise as he silently dropped forward. 

Los Angeles retracted his blade and carefully sat the Pastor back up in his chair, closing his eyelids. It might have looked like the Pastor was taking a nap. Los Angeles took out a handkerchief and wiped the blood off the knife before putting it back in the sheath. Once upon a time he might have said a quick prayer but no more. The way the whole kill occurred would have to do. 

After the quick but grisly business, Los Angeles activated the man's computer if it was locked he left it alone but if it was open he plugged in a small but high-storage USB to copy any interesting files. Then he gave the office itself a quick once-over, looking into any drawers or containers but staying as quiet as possible. After pocketing anything that might assist him in his mission he looked back at the pastor and shook his head.

In another world, in another life this man would have been a hero. Now he was a casualty. Los Angeles unlocked the door and quickly but calmly strode out. He quietly closed the door and looked for a back exit before getting out of the church and taking a long way back to his car while keeping a lookout for anything suspicious. He made it back to his car and got in before going over the list on his phone. He crossed off the pastor before looking for another target.

He decided to stick to the easy marks and thought Sigurd Lindquist was a likely candidate. He calmly drove off to the Personville Herald, taking his time and keeping an eye out for any tails. He found the building and took a nice drive around to scope out the building and its details. It was the middle of the day and the building was likely to be busy. Los Angeles parked a nice distance away from the building and strolled on in with an average air about himself. 

Los Angeles eyed his surroundings while he approached the front desk. He smiled at the receptionist, "Hey. Is Sigurd Lindquist in? I think I might have something that he'd be interested in and I'd like to have a meeting to discuss it."