⑴ ɪɴɴϕↄɛɴↄɛ | [death]

Your glass grows empty once again as you empty the final sip past your lips. It travels down your throat with a warmth that is all too comforting, settling itself in your stomach as it begins to work its way through your bloodstream next. The alcohol bottle has emptied itself entirely into your body throughout the lengthy day that has passed, your mind distracted by the numbing voices of all the potential candidates. Not a single one interested you. Not a single one pulled you from your trance.

There had been a suggestion from a higher up that you employ an assistant. Though your work was done properly, efficiently and promptly, it never made life harder to have a person by your side to take on some of the work. It meant that you could delegate the tasks you preferred to avoid; it meant you could focus on the things you'd rather be doing. Punishment was your forte, something that was known widely by the District you commanded. You knew how to get what you wanted, and you knew exactly how to do the job when you had everything at your disposal. Having an assistant meant you could only improve your hold over the District, and over the power it provided. Life was a political game and you wanted to win. Why not call in some reinforcements?

There had already been thirty-four candidates that had passed through the doors of your office with the hopes of working under your wing. You weren't quite sure what attracted them to your doorstep; there was no kidding yourself when wondering what the public opinion was concerning what kind of mayor you were. How many times had you heard it before? "The people believe you to be far more competent than they deserve, but each and every one of them hates your guts, sir." At the end of the day, they had reason to do so. You weren't a nice person. You weren't a good person. But you did the job. And you did it well. People were able to live lifestyles they wouldn't find with any other Mayor. District Six wasn't a terrible place to live. As long as they obeyed.

Each of the candidates had their own way of trying to impress. You sat alone in the office, each one going through a pre-screening process outside your doors so you could be presented with a file to peruse before asking your own set of questions. Some never made it inside. I've no interest for incompetent and lazy slobs. You would send them on their way before they could even attempt to woo into your good graces. Others were a little different, having what may as well have been a perfect set of skills but having absolutely no oomph behind it. You needed somebody strong. Somebody that glowed with potential. Somebody that reminded you of yourself. It was a tough set of shoes to fill.

Candidate number twenty-one was rather interesting, of the lot. She had a very simple chart, with almost no notes added by the few that sat outside. When the doors opened, one had a loosened tie and unbuckled belt, the other buttoning his shirt back up. The young woman was tucking her blouse back into her skirt, licking her lips clean. Well then. You needed someone with brains in their head, however. She wasn't quite occupied internally. Rather talented with her hands, however.

There were to be another eleven candidates to pass through, though it had already grown to the late hours of the evening. Your eyes darted to the clock and read the time quickly. Eleven thirty-seven. The sun had long since gone down, the autumn winds coming through to bring a chill to the night. I still have yet to stop by the Eastern drug factory. I've a meeting to attend to. You would need to go through the last few quickly. You were growing impatient, and now out of alcohol.

With that last thought passing through your mind, your doors opened and one of the Keepers walked forward with a notebook. He silently placed it upon your desk, the words within beckoning for you to read them.

Chastity Tabitha Cumberland. Twenty-three years of age.
Striking blue eyes. Petite figure. Smaller chest. Nice hips. Ample ass. Beautiful lips. Solid 7.5/10 according to Davis. 8/10 in my eyes. Seems very innocent.

That was all that was listed upon the paper, and so you turned your eyes back up to the door. They opened in that moment, ready for this Chastity to come forward.