From one end to another, there was nothing but blackness. Despite the sun hovering over head, easily seen by billions of people, it wasn't touching anyone in the room. "Bother." A soft voice mumbled at the sound of a buzz coming out of his pocket. "Is nothing sacred any more? Is it so much too ask to have just a few minutes for oneself to get a job done?" There was some motion in the darkness as a head shook itself, vigorously, from side to side. "Stupid question. No need for an answer." There was soft clicking sound as a phone, the flipping kind, was pulled open and its soft blue light revealed the pale face holding it. A few moments passed as the purples eyes jumped from one end of the screen to another, all the way down the end of the message. Several moments passed before the phone was snapped shut, and the light was vanished just as roughly as the light of a candle snuffed out by a pair of pudgy fingers. "Interesting. So it looks like the group has decided to bring an end to things with the NTE." There was some light shuffling, almost inaudible, as the phone was returned back to the silken pocket in which it would call home, if such things could call anything home. "Not that I'm surprised at the decision to deal away with, or anything in that matter. It's just. Oh, what's the expression? Is there an expression? Well, I'm only a little bit startled that things are being moved to such a fast end. I would've sworn, and bet some money, the company would attempt to engage in negotiations on its own before moving to force the gang's hand."
	Some ruffling could be heard somewhere in the room, a few feet from the voice's location. "Will I go, or should I finish with things here? The job's just about done, yes, but there's still some loose ends." A pause. "Well, a single loose end. I guess, I can deal with it quickly enough. Then it's just a matter of returning things, and shaking hands. Why, I could be done with all of this, and starting on the new problem in a few hours really." A low sigh. "I shouldn't complain, or allow myself to be surprised, shouldn't I. It's to be expected, really. Why, when one finds himself the beneficiary of so many zeros, a grudge shouldn't be held against the devil who got the signature in blood, disguised as ink. " Another nearly silent release of agitated breath. "So!" The sound of slapping has the speaker's hands clasps together. "That's all settled with then. I'll be going right after this, I mean dealing with things here, and getting the package to the employer."

	There was a click and a bright white light exploded into the tiny room, which turned out to be a storage shed, filled with hay. A single, overpowered light bulb hang over head. In the center there was a heavy framed man, middle to late forties, with a beer keg of a belly spilling over his pants. The man's face was chubby like a toad, and his hazel eyes were so widely opened they looked like it was a tempting idea for them to jump out of his head, and make a run for it. HIs legs and an arm were tied up with everyday rope, and the other arm was gone, a charred black stump in its place. There wasn't any blood on the ground, but a thick pile of ash. 
	"Ah. Where was I?" The pale man, still seated by the door, raised a hand and rubbed his smooth chin. "Oh yes!" He got to his feet, and gave the fat man a quick bowl. "I was going to leave you here to spend the rest of your life thinking about how ungrateful you've been with my employer." There was a briefcase next to the chair the man in black had been sitting in. He picked it up and hefted it, just to make sure there was the right weight. "But please don't feel too bad. You won't have to spend a great deal of time living in grief. I'm not a savage man." With that, he gave a short bow before turning and stepping lightly outside, making sure to close the door, and replace a padlock after him. 

	Seeing he was alone, and sensing things would only become much worse, the man tied in the chair, his name was fatinson(no lie), started struggling. He pulled and pried with his remaining limbs, but couldn't budge. With all his effort he strived against his restraints but that only landed him on the ground. He hit his head, and that knocked something into him more than it did out of him. In his panic, he'd missed the change in the room. There was no more breeze, and the air was colder, but the floor had gotten much warmer than it should've. Something clicked in his mind, as slow as it had been after three days without food. There was something in the air. panicking more than before, which he hadn't thought to be possible, his eyes darted around, and stopped on the tiny glowing red dot on the hay opposite him. There was a second when it looked like it winked at him, and then the whole world, only the hay really but to the man it was everything, burst into flames that were so hot he didn't have time to regret. 

	Outside the pale man, Dirk Gently, waited, with the briefcase at his feet and his arms crossed in front of his chest. "That should've been enough time to satisfy everyone. Normally, I wouldn't have minded dragging that out, but I am in a hurry." With that like with a runner and the bang of a starting pistol, the man hurried over to the house next door, and got into the black camero in the driveway. With little, or none, regards for the possibility of incoming traffic, he peeled out of the driveway, and hurried to return the briefcase, and get to work on the job. He turned up the music. It was thrash today. Hopefully something in the fascinatingly technical instruments would give his mind a jolt on where the best place to start would be.