"What do our new, and illustrious, employers require Mr Smith?" The scraping, and squeaking, of an old computer mouse scroll-wheel drifted across the room.
"It appears that we have a quarry Mr Jones. And that we are to eliminate everyone who has made contact."
"Ah! I smell scorched earth Mr Smith!"
"Indeed Mr Jones. Our latest task returns us to good old London town. A family has been contacted."
"Oh dear. I do dislike it when we have to do these Mr Smith."
"I too, Mr Jones. Perhaps a gas explosion this time?"
"Hmm... Quick, clean... I like it."