《Killing 9 to 5》


 Chapter 1: The First Kill

    The morning alarm rang out.


    Brad Pines, a mid-thirties newly elected member of the US Senate for the state of Georgia began his morning routine. He cleaned himself up, gave himself a little pep talk in the mirror, and debated for a little too long on which color tie he should wear.


    His house is baren, but clean. No artwork, pictures, diplomas, memorabilia from memories past, or even much furniture. To call it minimalistic would be too generous; perhaps the classification of an essentialist would be more adapt.


    Pines stood in front of the mirror holding a red tie in his right hand and a blue tie in his left. He begins his statistical deduction, "There will be 565 men and 378 women in the crowd today. There is a 60.2 percent favor with republican ideologies. Red and blue coloring will be too aggressive and risk alienating a percentage of my audience who perceives color coordination with stances on public issues."He pauses for a moment and looks over at a green tie."


    Green ¨C the color of finance, luxury, energy, and success. Potential risk of alienating the lower to middle class. Poverty rates are hitting a decade high in just the last year," he reasoned.


    He glanced at an orange tie. "Orange ¨C There are no political calculations with orange. Orange it is."


    The politician knotted his orange tie around his neck and ambulated to the kitchen. On his countertop sits a single shot glass with a dark, oily, espresso-like liquid. Pines approached the glass and gave the concoction a quick gulp.


    "Refreshing," he said to himself.


    Pines approached a suitcase by the front door. He set it on a nearby entrance table and gave its contents a quick scan. Everything seems to be in place for the workday ahead. He grabbed his car keys and headed out the front door, ready to take on another day. Pines entered his vehicle and set the briefcase on the passenger seat. He turned the ignition of the sedan on, and eighties pop began to play on the radio station. He reversed out of the driveway and went down the neighborhood street.


    After a short while, Pines exited the highway and began to enter downtown Atlanta. Skyscrapers and heavy traffic surrounded him; nearly overstimulating his senses. He hit a red light and came to a slow stop. Another vehicle pulled up beside him in the left turn lane. Pines turned and gave a signature wave to his fellow commuter. The driver gave no notice and turned left as their light changed to green.


    "Up next we have a classic that topped the charts in 79''. Here''s The Buggles on what exactly killed the radio star," said the radio station broadcaster.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Pines drove forward as "Video Killed the Radio Star" played through his speakers. All seemed normal and calm on this Monday morning, just as any other daily commute through the city. He approached another red light and came to a stop. Far off in the distance, a shine off of a reflection can be seen from the driver''s side window. Pines noticed the slight shine off in the distance. His focus on the shine attempted to zoom in on a potential cause, but the change to a green light took his attention away. Pines slowly began to pull forward with a light press on the gas. Suddenly, without warning, the glass on the driver''s side window shattered and a bullet made impact on the temple of Pines'' head. A dark red substance splattered on the windshield and passenger window.


    Pines'' car pummeled forward and hit a lamp post. Nearby civilians that witnessed the event are slowly piecing together cognitively what they just saw. A brief panic broke out as some decided to scream and run, while others took out their cell phones to record and livestream what was happening. The rare bystander used their phone to actually dial 9-1-1. As the rush of hysteria continued on the city block, Pines'' deactivated body lied motionless across the driver''s seat and armrest.


    The song continues to play on, "In my mind ¨C and in my car. We can''t rewind, we''ve gone too far¡ª."


    Across the stretch of urban jungle, on top of a nearby office building laid 32-year-old hitman Jin Shimada. His clothing is loose and relaxed; top button undone, open cuffed sleeves, unstraightened tie, and glasses that hang off the ridge of his nose. The smoking barrel from his sniper rifle served as a near identical reflection of the freshly lit cigarette on the cornice of the building.


    Jin lifted the sniper rifle back up, in the background from his own portable radio, the same song that served as Pines'' final acoustic waves continued to play on, "You are ¨C a radio star (oh, a, oh)."


    Jin reached for his earpiece, "Target''s taken care of. Am I clear to leave?" He asked.


    On the other end of the communication line, a voice rings out from Sebastian Wix. He''s single, late twenties, flamboyant, and full of enough sass to be the stiletto in a room of flats.


    "Come on Jin ¨C Give our boys in blue a little bit of a head start," Wix replied.


    Jin smirked as he began to pack up his brief case and took apart the sniper rifle. He exited the rooftop area of the building and worked his way back to his car in the building''s underground parking garage. He opened the trunk of his vehicle; it looked innocent enough so that if anyone were to pass by, they wouldn''t take notice. Jin surveyed around the garage to make sure no wondering eyes were closing in. Once he deemed it clear, he flipped a hidden switch, which rotated the bottom tray of the trunk to reveal a hidden armory of death. Jin placed the sniper brief case back to its assigned spot before notching the switch once again. He waltzed to the front of his vehicle with a little bit of a jig and slides into the driver''s seat.


    As the car turns on, the radio continues to sing out, "Video killed the radio star¡ª."


    Jin looked down at the radio and flipped through a montage of channels and music; eventually setting on a radio talk show of the daily news report. Surely his work would be broadcasted soon. Jin''s car pulled out of the underground parking lot. Police cars drove by on the city block. Their sirens blared across the metropolitan morning haze. Jin worked his way to the highway ramp to head north, towards his home of Washington DC and away from the fresh, self-caused, chaos of Atlanta.

 Chapter 2: Taco Gong

    Washington D.C. is a hell of a place. A barrage of iconic government monuments drowned out by the sound of civil unrest. For every Washington Monument, Pentagon, and White House, you have a neighborhood like Brentwood or Shaw that has seen a history of violence. Jin''s office glistened in the summer sun between the barred windows and gated front door. It was a low rent room in the middle of one of those aforementioned no-good neighborhoods. Given the paperwork and subject material of his profession, the office was able to blend in easily behind the larger issues of society that loomed beyond its four walls.


    Inside the cluttered apartment, Sebastian sat at his desk, leaning back to the point of nearly tipping over. He was talking on a wired phone. A relic of ancient technology that Jin never bothered removing when he began renting the place. Sebastian''s fingers twirled in the curl of the chord.


    "I''m telling you Jessica, he''s no good. I don''t know what you were thinking with marrying the guy and putting yourself ten years and three kids deep into it." Sebastian said with a sarcastic bite.


    As Jin entered the apartment, murmurs could be heard on the other end of the line. Possibly a barrage of gossip and self-pity. Sebastian initially ignored Jin''s entrance as he was still wrapped in the conversation.


    "Come on, leave the kids with the rich deadbeat and let''s go light up the club tonight. Work has been killing me."


    Jin removed his jacket and set it on the freestanding coat rack near the entrance. His undershirt was covered in a bit of blood; which also stained his forearms, knuckles, and face. Taking notice, Sebastian set the phone down and moved to grab the med kit in the bathroom.


    Jin sat at his desk as his assistant moved over to clean him up.


    "It''s not mine." Jin said as Sebastian took out a cloth and some rubbing alcohol.


    "Then who''s is it?" Sebastian asked while unbuttoning and removing Jin''s shirt.


    "Any excuse to take my shirt off." Jin smugged.


    "Fuck off" Sebastian laughed. He began cleaning off Jin''s arms and chest.


    "It was the usual shit. Some loud mouth at the bar. Harassed a girl. Didn''t like his attitude¨C"


    "And you probably threw the first punch" Sebastian interrupted.


    "Always fire first."


    "Quite a bit of blood for one bloke."


    "Yeah, well let''s just say his buddies weren''t to thrilled seeing their friend get a crossover to the jaw."Stolen story; please report.


    "Police make their way over?"


    "No. It wasn''t a big place, and the others in the place weren''t the kind to want the fuzz sniffing around."


    Jin reached for a bottle of scotch at his desk while Sebastian finished cleaning him off.


    "Clearly you didn''t get enough to drink. Jin, it''s only three in the afternoon." Sebastian remarked.


    Sebastian rolled his eyes and flicked the cut on Jin''s forehead. He stood up as Jin winced. While Jin was pouring a drink, he returned to his own desk and grabbed a folder.


    "I need you to look over this paperwork from the main office. Also, this is me giving you your verbal reminder that you have your doctor''s appointment tomorrow."


    "I don''t know why you scheduled that thing for me. I''m in pristine health." Jin said before slightly choking on the glass of alcohol.


    He let out a light cough from the ashy burn of the scotch. There was a momentary pause in the conversation, as though Sebastian''s point was already made. They both rolled their eyes at one another before Sebastian handed Jin the folder. Jin gives a slight sigh of defeat and begins to flip through the documents.


    "As I was saying, go to your appointment. Your about to enter your mid 30''s and you never check up on yourself. In your line of work, between your brittle back and damaged liver, you probably need it more than you want to admit."


    Jin grabbed a nearby remote and turned on the television in the corner of the room. On the news was a broadcast covering the death of Governor Pines. Meanwhile, Sebastian was packing up his bag to head home. He glanced over at the television.


    "Speaking of work, please go by the main office tomorrow and turn everything in. Rent for this place is due, and you owe me some cash."


    "Yeah. Yeah. I''ll stop by before my doctor''s appointment."


    The news broadcast reached a break point and commercials began playing. An advertisement for the new Bluto''s Chicken Sandwich made noise in the background.


    "Love that chicken from Bluto''s" Sebastian hummed while the ad sang its slogan.


    Next was an ad from Taco Gong. A new Chinese-Mexican chain that had been rising in popularity in the DC area. Orange chicken burritos, Moo shu pork tacos, General Tso spicy chicken quesadillas. Jin thought that the fad of mixing different cultures cuisine to be off-putting.


    "I heard that place is actually pretty good," Sebastian said as he began heading to the front door of the office.


    "Yeah, I don''t think so," Jin responded.


    "Anything you need from me before I go?"


    "No, I''m okay. I''ll see you on Monday."


    "Have a good weekend, Jin," Sebastian said as they headed out of the door.


    Jin gave a slight wave as they finished looking through the dossier folder. Nothing of interest was gained in their daily dose of reading. The television changed to another commercial, this time showing disabled veterans.


    "I''m CEO Richard Burke of Incognito Incorporated. The industry leader in prosthetic and robotic technology that not only gives our veterans a second chance, but improves the lives of millions across our great nation. This year, I plan to¨C" the television blared before Jin abruptly turned it off.


    "Yeah, that''s enough of that." Jin muttered to himself before getting up from his desk.


    Jin moved to the upstairs portion of the office which served as a small apartment. He set his glass on the nightstand next to his bed. As he laid on top of his comforter, he felt heavy in his own thoughts. Despite never being one for companionship, the feeling of loneliness and isolation occasionally reared its ugly head. His mind wandered at the words Sebastian had said. Hearing out loud that he was entering his mid 30s brought a sobering thought to his cerebral, and despite his effort, the liquor wasn''t drowning it out. He kicked off his shoes before passing out on top of the mattress.

 Chapter 3: Welcome to H.I.S.

    A couple of miles from the pentagon sat an unmarked office building in a vast sea of parking spots. With no logo or advertisement nearby, one might think the building was abandoned; save for the cars parked nearby. This was the secret building for H.I.S. (Hitmen''s International Syndicate). A workplace that assassin''s and bounty hunters called home in-between posted jobs for any country.


    Jin pulled up to a parking spot in his car, a red, 1995 Toyota Supra. He exited the vehicle and grabbed the envelope that Sebastian handed him the day before. As he approached the office building, he noticed a newly posted sign near the front door that read: "ALLEN ¨C NO OUTSIDE FOOD OR DRINK".


    As he continued walking, only 10 feet away from that sign stood a man who looked like a doppelganger of Mike Smith, famously known as Bubbles in the television series Trailer Park Boys. This, was Allen, a late 40''s, short, slightly overweight, and socially awkward hitman with bottlecap glasses. He was also the "self-prescribed" best friend of Jin. With Jin approaching, Allen took notice of his incoming amigo and decided to toss his beloved vanilla ice cream onto the pavement. Jin passed him and he began to follow.


    Jin picked up his tempo. "Al, you dropped your ice cream back there."


    Allen turned back to the melted scoop of vanilla on the smoldering pavement. Ants flocked to it from the cracks in the cement.


    "That''s alright Jin, I can always get another one," Allen responded. He noticed the folder in Jin''s hand and his eyebrows perked up above the rims of his glasses. "Turning in a job? Where''d you go?"


    "Al, you know we aren''t supposed to give out classified information in regards to work."


    Allen adjusted his glasses and ran forward to open the door for Jin. "No, you''re right. Just got a bit curious is all." He said as Jin passed him to enter the building.


    Jin and Allen entered the lobby of their workplace. Outside of a few lounge chairs and couches, the atmosphere was one of silence and hollowness. Everything in the building was a sterile white, and the sunlight blindly reflected off of multiple surfaces. A single desk was placed in front of two elevators where a secretary sat.


    That lovely secretary was Delores. A late 70''s woman who was just as quick to pull out a shotgun as she was to bake cookies for her grandchildren. She often hummed to herself, and passed the time reading the latest erotic fiction paperback. It was a deep escape from her office and home life.


    She paid no attention to Jin and Allen as they approached the desk; her newest novel was in the middle of a juicy scene. Jin stood for a moment, knowing better than to interrupt the woman in her momentary bliss; Allen however, lacked the social awareness. He locked eyes with the bell on the counter and began ringing it incessantly.


    Ding. Ding. Ding.


    "Delores! Jin and I need to go to the office!" Allen shouted attempting to get the attention of the hearing aid with glasses.


    Delores glanced up at the two men who had interrupted her literature.


    "Scan your badges," she said with a slightly annoyed, but underwhelmed tone.


    Allen''s eyes widened. He looked at the scanner on the counter and then at Jin. Moving his head back and forth between the two. Jin reached into his pocket and pulled out his worker''s badge. Before he scanned it, Allen was quick to yank him aside.


    "I don''t have my badge," Allen whispered.


    "Why?" Jin asked, not whispering back and raising an eyebrow.


    Allen fidgeted to himself for a moment, he continued to whisper so that Delores wouldn''t hear. "I didn''t plan on killing anyone today. So, if I''m not working, why would I need my badge?"


    Jin was dumbfounded by the logic. If you weren''t going to work today, then why hangout in front of the office building to begin with?


    "Then stay up here," Jin suggested, still not whispering.


    "No!" Allen whisper shouted. "I want to go with you. I''m your backup."


    Jin gave a sigh and turned back to Delores. He smiled at the disgruntled secretary. "Delores, beautiful, we''ve been working here for over ten years. Would it be okay if Al went with me even though he left his badge at home?"


    "We have rules¨C"


    "¨Cif you say no, then Allen will have to stay up here and keep you company while I work," Jin insisted.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Delores turned her attention to the pair of fogged bottlecap glasses. Without hesitation she was quick to scan her own badge to override the system. Much to Allen''s joy.


    "Go ahead," Delores instructed as the right elevator doors opened.


    Jin smiled and gave Delores a wink, "You''re the best."


    Jin and Allen moved into the elevator. On the keypad, Jin hit a 7-digit sequence before clicking the button for the basement floor. The elevator door closed on the two men and they rode down to the office.


    The basement floor of the office building was a bustling place. Cubicles created aisles up and down the floor in an office environment that hadn''t seen a change in procedure since the mid 90''s. Men and women in suits sat at their computers, surrounded the copying machines, and bided their time at the lone, dusty watercooler.


    Along the east side wall was a gated armory. A couple of employees stood at the window to hand off weapons to employees that made orders for missions. The register furthest to the right was newly installed for the companies attempt at online orders. The employees were busy stuffing explosives and firearms into to-go bags for the hitmen''s online orders.


    On the west side wall sat a row of tellers. Employees that worked in the company''s banking and finance; paying out successful jobs and logging in the accounting papers.


    On the north side there were three doors. Two that were designated for conferences and meetings, and another that led into the office for the boss of H.I.S. There was also a row of painted portraits of previous professional killers that went above and beyond their profession in both life and sacrifice. These included people such as Luther, Jack Walter, and many others from history.


    Jin began his trek to the tellers. Allen attempted to stay by his side until he was pulled away by nearby office workers George and Carl.


    "Hey Al, how''d you find your way down here?" teased George.


    "Yeah, we heard you botched the Zimbabwe job," laughed Carl.


    "Fellas. I didn''t botch the job. The hit required me to take out the entire family, and I shot the husband clear in the head. He was as good as dead. Saw no reason to eliminate the wife and children. I have rules you know. They were harmless." Allen said, attempting to justify himself.


    Carl continued laughing, "Harmless? The wife was the leader of the cartel Allen. You just put a bullet into her eye candy, trophy, husband."


    George threw Allen into a headlock, "always complete the job!"


    Away from Allen, Jin continued to walk through the office. Another man, Hugh Jackson, a late 20''s hotshot to the workplace noticed Jin from the watercooler. He had sandy blonde hair and icy steel blue eyes, with a cool temperament to match. Hugh brushes off his conversation with a few coworkers and moved over to Jin.


    "There''s the master," Hugh said pointing a few finger guns at Jin. They shot off their imaginary, supportive bullets of encouragement.


    Jin continues walking to the tellers and gives no acknowledgement.


    "Did you get my memo?" Hugh asked.


    "You know I don''t read that company newsletter shit." Jin responded.


    "Yeah, well, a couple of us guys got thinking¨C"


    "¨CThere''s your problem" interrupted Jin.


    Hugh gave a fake chuckle as they entered the back of the line for the tellers.


    "Anyhow, we were thinking some things needed to change around here. We professionals shouldn''t have to compete for contracts. They keep double booking us and wasting our time."


    "Not this again¨C"


    "¨CWe need to unionize." Hugh said firmly.


    The two men took a step forward with the line.


    "Do you hear yourself. A union for professional killers. What government is going to support that?"


    "We need to stick together Jin."


    "That''s why I work alone. I don''t want another team unnecessarily above me to make my job more difficult. If you are worried about competing with others to take jobs, then be more efficient than the other guy."


    They took another step forward. Hugh placed his hand on Jin''s shoulder, "Look, you are one of the oldest among us. The office sees you as a leader. Who else are we going to elect to represent us to the boss? Allen?"


    On the other side of the room, Allen was still in a headlock from George. He was trying to smile and play it off while they belittled him. Jin and Hugh took another step forward.


    "Think about it, please. Cause if you aren''t with us," Hugh said as he began to back away. He reloaded his imaginary finger guns and gave of a few more shots, "You''re against us."


    Jin was called to the teller as Hugh returned to the watercooler. Jin approaches and opens his dossier folder to grab the correct papers.


    "Last and first?" asked the teller.


    "Shimada, Jin" he answered.


    The teller began typing into her computer. Jin slid the documents through the window tray and the teller grabbed them. She quickly glances over the papers.


    "Pines, Bradley. Assassination. 850 thousand initial payout. Subtract, 200k for finder''s fee. 50k for rifle loan and ammunition. 25k transfer fee. 275k in other taxes and expenses. Your total for the job returns to 300 thousand. Would you like that deposited into your account or any of it in immediate cash?"


    "Deposit, please."


    The teller continues her typing. An initial receipt prints and the teller hands slides it through the window tray to Jin.


    "Is there anything else I can assist you with today?" she asked.


    "No, no thank you. I''ll have my assistant take care of the paperwork and assigning my next job."


    "Have a killer day."


    "Same to you."


    Jin turned around and placed the receipt in his pocket. He began his trek back to the elevator to leave. Meanwhile, Allen broke free from his captivity and retreated back to Jin''s side.


    "Making friends?" Jin asked with the rare hint of sarcasm.


    Allen almost trips over his own feet, "Those guys? Nah, they''re just a couple of knuckleheads."


    Jin and Allen enter the elevator and the door closes on the office workplace. Jin and Allen reach the lobby and move past Delores, who ignored them as she continued reading her literature. Outside the building, the vanilla ice cream remained on the ground; nothing more than a sweet puddle infested with ants.


    Jin takes notice of the puddle and stops momentarily. He drowns out whatever words Allen was spouting on about and his head begins the thump. He stared at the engulfing insects devouring their nectar and his ears rang out. His vision became blurry and Jin began to black out.


    "Jin? Jin?" Allen said in a sound that was muffled out by the ringing in Jin''s head.


    Jin collapses over on the ground as the sensation of devourment overwhelmed.

 Chapter 4: Dazed and Confused

    The next couple blurred together, at least until the bright lights and sterileness of the hospital room brought Jin back to his senses. His hands tingled and fidgeted. He was unsure of what exactly happened, or why he passed out; something that had never been a common occurrence.


    A doctor entered the room. He took Jin to get some tests done; x-rays, an MRI, and some blood work. After the work was done, Jin was returned to a room to await the results.


    As he sat there, his head rushed with thoughts, "What''s wrong with me? Could I really be at risk of some form of illness? After dodging all the bullets, and surviving all the things I''ve done, to have something so, ordinary, be what does me in is almost ironic."


    After a short while, an elderly doctor entered the room. With his back at a slight hunch and his snow-white hair, he looked as though he already had one foot into retirement, and the other into a grave.


    He let out a wet caught as he flipped through some paperwork. He then, adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat, "Mr. Shimada, the results of your tests came back negative, for the most part. You seem to be in good enough physical condition for your age, but perhaps mentally, you''re in need of assistance."


    Jin was a bit confused, "What are you saying doc?"


    "We believe you might''ve passed out from vasovagal syncope. While not common, it isn''t unheard of in your age. Like I said, physically, you are as wet as a whistle, but mentally or physiologically, your body is attacking itself. VS is often caused by stress, and external factors in your daily life that might be having a negative impact. Your body is unable to balance its fight or flight response as a result. Would you say you find yourself stressed at work or home?"


    "I mean..." Jin said beginning to trail off, avoiding a direct answer.


    "There is nothing we can prescribe you right now Mr. Shimada. But i would heavily suggest looking into some time off of work, or perhaps even therapy."


    "I don''t know..."


    "Look, do what you''d like. Nobody can force these things on you. But those that have experienced VS once, are likely to experience it again.


    Jin didn''t like the idea of uncontrollably passing out during a job. That would be an even worse way to go out. Like a possum with a gun pointed to its cerebrum cortex.


    "As for today, due to the drugs we had to give you, you''ll need someone to drive you home. I''ll leave you alone to contact some family to drive you home."


    The doctor opened the door to exit the room, Jin hesitantly opened his mouth, "I don''t have any family to contact..."


    The doctor turned around briefly with a face that blended mild shock and pity, "If you have absolutely no one to contact, then we will need to keep you here until the drugs wear off."You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Jin looked down at the floor and the doctor exited the room. He reached for his phone and opened his contact list, which only included a couple of names. He first attempted to call Sebastian, to which it went to voicemail. A Saturday night like this, the man was probably out at a bar already, hyping himself up for an eventual nightclub bender.


    Jin clicked on the only other name he knew he could potentially depend on. The ringing in his ear began to subside with the dialing of the phone.


    About a half hour later, Jin exited the hospital. Allen was waiting for him in the drop off/pick up curbside area. He grinned from the driver seat of his teal, 1970''s Volkswagen type 2 van. Jin approached and opened the passenger door. An assortment of soda cans, fast food wrappers, and empty milkshake cups waddled their way out.


    "Oh gosh darn it, sorry about that," Allen said as Jin entered the vehicle. "As you can see, I wasn''t expecting guests in my ride."


    "Al... It''s fine," Jin sighed momentarily. "Thank you for picking me up."


    Allen shifted the manual stick shift into drive and drove out of the hospital parking lot.


    "So, did they diagnose you with the big C?" asked Allen.


    "What?"


    "You know my grandpappy died of ass cancer."


    "I... I don''t think that''s what that''s called"


    "Yep. Terrible thing. Had a tumor in his left cheek the size of a softball. Hurt like hell every time he had to take a seat. Especially on the toilet."


    "Allen, I don''t have cancer. Nothing like that. I just passed out from vasovagal syncope."


    Allen gave a nod as though he understood what Jin was saying. Outside the van, the neon lights of the nightlife streets switched on with the turning of the sunset. He made a stop at a red light.


    "I just don''t understand Jin. Look at you, you''re in peak shape. All you do is drink and smoke a little. No harm in that..." The light changed to green and Allen drove forward, "So what are you going to do before the surgery?"


    "I don''t need¨C"


    "¨CWe should go to Vegas! Two guys like us could raise a hell of a storm!" Allen interrupted.


    Jin glanced over at Allen, who was giddy at the thought of a Vegas rage. His face was bright red in fantastical bliss, it damn near almost made Jin laugh. Allen moved into a turning lane and waited for oncoming traffic to clear.


    "I think I just need to take some time off, or maybe go to therapy for my mental health." admitted Jin.


    Allen''s ears pricked up. He floundered in his seat to reach for his wallet. While distracted by his new task, he slammed onto the gas and forced his way into the turn through a small gap of traffic. Turning into a neighborhood, he handed Jin a business card.


    "Take this."


    Jin grabbed the card and looked it over, "Allen, you go to therapy?"


    Allen looked almost embarrassed, "Yeah, with work and stuff..." He paused and fell into a momentary thought that caused introspection. "Really helps keep the demons at bay," he said with a muted, deep, voice filled with the type of PTSD that a man keeps between himself and God.


    The van reaches a stop outside of Jin''s office and apartment. Jin unbuckled his seatbelt and began to exit the vehicle. Before he closes the door, he turned back around to his friend, "Hey Al?"


    "Yeah?"


    "Guy like you. Why did you become a professional killer?"


    Allen smiled and gave a half-truth, "Aw shucks Jin, killing is what I''m best at."


    Jin returned the answer with a smirk and closed the door. Allen then frantically reached back over the passenger seat and rolled down the window with the manual crank.


    "We''re going to beat this bro. You, are going to beat this," he said pounding his chest.


    "Sure, bud."


    Allen readjusted his seat, put on his sunglasses that were tucked into the sun visor, and cranked up the radio; which was playing "Bitch From Da Souf" by Latto and Trina. The ancient tires of the Type 2 van screeched for mercy as Allen did a burnout through the neighborhood. The van''s rusted exhaust rang out like gunshots. Nearby apartment lights turned on from the noise and a dogs hollered on high alert as Jin entered his office for the night.

 Chapter 5: Crosshairs

    Crosshairs was a hidden bar located not too far from Jin''s apartment. It was a place filled with mafia members, hitmen, and other violent trash of D.C.''s underworld. There was no sign to advertise it, and the only way in was through an inconspicuous door down the middle of a random alleyway on 10th street. Allen''s Type 2 burst onto the road and he parked in a nearby parking lot.


    Crosshairs had three core rules that kept the establishment running. The first was no killing. A place filled with criminals and hitmen are a dangerous combination. If a hitman wants to take out their target, crosshairs is a neutral zone. Otherwise, the mobsters and gang leaders might not feel safe surrounded by so many guns that weren''t their own. The second rule was no speaking on work. If a hitman were to blab on about a recent killing, and effected ears were in the vicinity, then there would be fallout. The third, and most obvious rule, was no police allowed. Should a pig be discovered in the bar. The patrons hold the right to break the previous rules in order to make some bacon.


    Allen approached the metal, steel framed door and gave it a quick four knocks. After a short pause, the peephole visor slid open.


    A man on the other side looked through and down at Allen, "Scan your badge or give me a password Allen."


    "You know I don''t have my badge with me Bruce." Allen replied.


    "We have rules Allen. Hitmen scan their work badges on the hidden scanner and selected gangs and mobsters give an exclusive password. So unless you recently joined the 202 Locos, or something, scan your badge or get lost."


    The slider closed and Allen stood there for a moment. He gave the four quick knocks again and waited for Bruce to open the sliding visor. The visor slid open and Bruce looked down.


    "You know your grandma had no problem with me not having my ID card this morning."


    Bruce''s eyebrow lifted up, "You leave Delores out of this."


    "It''s not a big deal to look the other way sometimes. Besides, do you really want me knocking here all-night causing attention. You know its me and what I do."


    On the other side of the door there was a commotion. Footsteps approached and looked over Bruce''s shoulder.


    "Awe shit, is that Allen? Bruce, common, let his fat ass in for a drink. He owes me a round."


    Bruce sighed and unlocked the door. He opened his mouth to warn Allen that he was on thin ice, but Allen shushed him before he could speak.


    "Bruce, my man. I love you, I respect you, and I want see more of you. When you''re off the clock, come see me for a mojito." Interjected Allen, as he put his finger in front of Bruce''s mouth and gave him a pat on the back.


    The man that stood up for Allen was revealed to be Hugh Jackson. While their relationship was rocky at best, Hugh and Allen seemed to get along better after a few drinks.


    Hugh put his arm around Allen as they entered the bar and nightclub. The place was equipped with a small dance floor, a dart and pool table area, as well as some booths and chairs at the bar.


    Allen pulled up a seat next to Hugh at the bar. Almost immediately, George and Carl set next to the two of them. George sat to the right of Allen and Carl sat to the left of Hugh.


    "What''s up boys?" asked Carl.


    "Fancy seeing you in a place like this tonight Allen," remarked George.


    The bartender approached the group of hitmen and asked for their order.


    "First rounds on me fellas. Four Orion please." Allen requested.


    The bar tender moved to the fridge to grab four tall cans of the Okinawan beer.


    "Why don''t you ever order us a real beer? Like a good old Miller. Hell, I''d even take one of them German Heinekens." Carl said.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    The bartender slid the men their first round and Allen cracked open the can.


    "What can I say, it reminds me of my youthful marine days." Allen responded as he took a large chug.


    George grabbed and clanged his can of beer to Allen''s. "From one marine to another, Kanpai!" he said.


    The four men continued their drinking over a couple of hours. Carl was the first to get tipsy since he was the lightest.


    At the entrance of the bar entered a few gang members of the 202 Locos. A Hispanic gang that did a lot of their work in DC, but were also slowly expanding to Alexandria, and Arlington. They were currently in a turf war with The D.C. Blacks. A gang that had ties to the Black Gorilla Family and other prison-gang relations. Both gangs often spent their nights at crosshairs, and there was a mild worry that a rule might soon be broken or the neighboring areas could be used to target hits.


    Carlos Montoya was a Lieutenant of the Locos, he entered with a few of his men and took a seat at a booth on the far side of the room. Over at the pool table were a couple of D.C. Blacks. Mostly low-level members, but amongst them was Dequan Johnson, a lower-level gang member who has been working to become a lieutenant. He had personally led a few fights against Carlos and The Locos in the Brentwood neighborhood.


    Carl took notice of the opposing sides and decided that now was a good time to leave, especially as intoxicated as he was. He paid his tab and exited the establishment.


    Allen put his arms around Hugh and George, "Why don''t we make our way to the dartboard?"


    "How much you want to put down?" asked Hugh.


    "Three?" suggested Allen.


    "Make it four and I''m in," said George.


    "Four stacks it is then," Allen said as he turned over to Hugh. "Unless you''re a little bitch," he whispered loudly.


    Allen grabbed a handful of darts and waited for his turn. Next to them at the pool were the D.C. Blacks.


    One of the soldiers turned to Dequan, "Hey DJ, when you wanna bounce."


    "Let''s break and be ready. Carlos and his guerrero spicks might follow us out." DJ muttered.


    Allen overheard the conversation and continued playing. He kept an eye on Carlos as the game of darts continued. Bruce approached the group with a mojito in his hand. He thanked Allen for the drink, though Allen pulled him aside for a moment.


    "You ready?" asked Allen.


    "Something brewing?" asked Bruce.


    "Who''s standing at the door right now?"


    "My brother Clark."


    Clark was Bruce''s younger brother. And youngest grandson to Delores, making him the baby of their family. Ironically, starting with Delores at H.I.S. the entire bloodline works as secretaries and guards around the D.C. underworld. Their highly regarded amongst the higher ups for their generations of service.


    "Tell him to go on break for a moment. Then meet me out front. Wouldn''t want him to throw himself into anything," instructed Allen.


    Bruce gave a nod and walked away. Allen turned to Hugh and George.


    "How we feeling boys? On a ten scale how ready are you to move?"


    George threw a dart that completely missed the board. "Fuck. A two I suppose." He said missing another throw.


    "I''m mobile." Hugh said.


    "Well give me a raincheck on the game. George, go rest up on the bar for a moment and get yourself some water. Hugh come with me."


    Allen and Hugh moved out of the bar and George went back to the bar. Outside of Crosshairs, Allen and Hugh stood in the alleyway across from the entrance. Shortly after, Bruce went out and stood with them.


    A few minutes passed by and the D.C. Black members exited the establishment. They turned left and headed towards the main street and highway. As they walked down the alleyway, Carlos and his boys exited the bar as well.


    "Aye boy." Carlos called out.


    D.J. ordered his men to keep walking and not turn back. Once they were around the corner, they would run for their car.


    Carlos called out again, but jumped forward after Allen put a hand on his shoulder from behind. Carlos turned around and faced Allen, Bruce, and Hugh.


    "You know the rules, Carlos."


    "Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it, you fat fuck?" Carlos responded.


    "Just because I can''t kill you, doesn''t mean I won''t kick your ass." Allen said with a smirk.


    Carlos pulled out a switchblade and lunged first at Allen. From his pocket, Allen pulled out a dart that he kept from his game. He parried Carlos''s lunge and used the dart to stab him in the eye. As Carlos reached for his eye in pain, Hugh stepped in and kicked him back. Carlos fell to the ground from the momentum.


    One of his men ran forward to try and retaliate, but Bruce stepped in and grabbed him by the oncoming fist. Bruce towered over the gang banger and lifted him by the collar. Throwing him into the alleyway wall.


    Carlos lifted himself up and put his arms in front of his men to stop them.


    "Fuck this." He said throwing the dart on the ground. "Watch your back hitmen. We know more than you think. 202 let''s go."


    Carlos and his men retreated from the scene. Hugh gave Allen a pat on the back. "That was great man, why can''t you be like that more in the office."


    Allen turned with a giddy grin from the compliment. "We aren''t allowed to drink at work," he laughed.


    "Well then, try to act drunk more often. I think it would do a lot to help your reputation."


    "I don''t need to build my rep. I''m just going to keep being me."


    Allen, Bruce and Hugh returned to the bar for a few more drinks to end the night. Despite putting up a mask that he didn''t care about what others thought at work, he did heavily consider Hugh''s words in his drunken state of mind.

 Chapter 6: The Hitmans Therapy

    A few days had passed since Jin¡¯s doctor¡¯s appointment. He had given the therapist a call from the card Allen gave him, and he was able to get an immediate consultation appointment.


    In one of the nicer areas of D.C. near the downtown business district was a small office building. Inside that building were different works and businesses scattered across the multiple floors. On the seventh floor was Dr. Gregory Brown¡¯s office.


    His office pristinely shined upon the new spring day. Diplomas were displayed meticulously on the wall. Years of photos, awards, and accomplishments lined the shelves of his office with pride. A single spec of dust floated uncharacteristically through the blinds of the window, probably caught from the wind of the outside world. It entered his temple for a momentary stay before it would inevitably be hit with the lemon scent of Pledge.


    Dr. Brown, who was a renowned man with over thirty years of experience in his industry, sat at his desk; slowly drinking away at his morning coffee. A neat stack of paperwork sat on the lower left corner of his desk, within arm¡¯s reach to be tackled at the first opportune moment. His silver hair was combed back and molded with a thick wallop of pomade, all in a calculated attempt to hide his only personal blemish, an ever-growing bald spot that had laid itself on the northern point of his scalp.


    His office phone let out a quick ring, and he answered on speaker. ¡°Yes, Julie?¡±


    On the other end of the line was Julie, Dr. Brown¡¯s longtime secretary who, despite her best efforts to match her boss¡¯s pristineness, found it all a bit pretentious and tiring with time.


    ¡°Mr. Shimada is here to see you,¡± she said.


    ¡°Send him in,¡± said Dr. Brown in a calm tone that was ready to take on the day.


    The vaulted doors to the therapy office opened as Jin entered within their vicinity. He glanced around the place, decently impressed by everything that was displayed. Perhaps Allen was right, and this wouldn¡¯t be too bad.


    Jin moved forward and shook hands with the doctor.


    ¡°Dr. Brown,¡± he said as he shook his hands.


    Dr. Brown gestured at the chair once their hands separated, ¡°Mr. Shimada, please.¡±


    Jin complied and took a seat on the elongated leather chair.


    Dr. Brown reaches for his notes, before he began to speak again, ¡°I know you said on the phone that you wanted to get started right away. So let¡¯s begin.¡±


    The two sat in silence for a moment. Jin began to tap his foot on the ground in an attempt to displace the loud silence. He was hoping Dr. Brown would ask him a question.


    Jin broke the silence first, ¡°So, uh, what do we cover first?¡± He asked.


    ¡°This is a client leading therapy process Mr. Shimada. We are here to discuss whatever you are comfortable sharing.¡±


    There was a further silence between the two parties. Jin¡¯s eyes darted around the room in an attempt to see something that would spark an idea. He felt the business card in his pocket poke at him, ever so slightly; as though it was nudging him.


    ¡°As you know,¡± began jin. He let out a mild cough to clear his throat. ¡°My friend, Allen, recommended you to me. Allen Holiday.¡±


    The therapist gave a warm, soft, smile. ¡°Yes, I am aware of Mr. Holiday. He is such a kind, and gentle natured person. You must be grateful to have him as a friend.¡±


    Jin is slightly caught off guard by the compliment towards Allen.


    ¡°With the way everyone at work treats him, I thought maybe you would, I don¡¯t know, clench a bit at his name?¡±


    ¡°Why not at all Mr. Shimada,¡± responded Dr. Brown.


    ¡°You know, I try to treat him better than the other guys at work. He just has this, unrelenting, positivity that makes me want to punch him to a wall at times. But¡­ I can never stay angry at him.¡±


    As Jin¡¯s words on Allen come to a close, the silence crept back in.


    ¡°Anyways¡­¡± Jin said as he relaxed his body into the chair a little more. His eyes started to wander off again.


    ¡°I went to the doctor¡¯s the other day. It¡¯s actually why I¡¯m here now.¡±


    ¡°And how did that go?¡° the doctor asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m in great shape physically. Nothing wrong with my eyesight or hearing. But the doctor said I was a bit broken mentally,¡± he paused, ¡°physiologically.¡±


    Jin looked down at the palm of his hand, it began to twitch a little. He felt a slight itchiness under his skin that he couldn¡¯t scratch away.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a bitch,¡± Jin wallowed with an air pocket stuck in the bottom of his throat.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°I take it, that such news, wasn¡¯t easy to hear?¡±


    ¡®You got that right,¡± scoffed Jin. ¡°Fucking doctor wouldn¡¯t even let me drive myself home. Had to open up the old contact list and call Allen¨C¡°


    Jin¡¯s demeanor changed slightly, ¡°¨Cand he came without hesitation.¡± He gave a contemplative pause, ¡°The workplace we¡¯re in, it¡¯s a cutthroat environment.¡± Jin chuckled to himself mildly, ¡°So much so that if I told you any more, I¡¯d probably have to kill you¡­¡±


    Dr. Brown remained unfazed by the remark. He continued to sit attentively.


    ¡°Is this workplace of yours a positive environment? Is your career something you are happy with?¡± probed Dr. Brown.


    ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t know if I necessarily ¡°enjoy¡± my job. It pays well, and I¡¯m really, ¡°really¡±, good at it. The dangerous aspects keep me feeling alive I suppose. But then again, the military did the same.¡±


    Dr. Brown wrote down a few short notes before speaking, ¡°Is that all we should strive for? Being good and well paid?¡±


    Jin adjusted to a more upright position in his chair. He let out a stout grunt, ¡°Yeah, I like to think so. Being good at what you do and making disposable income means that you can have control in your life. And keeping control over your surroundings is important.¡±


    ¡°You like to be in control?¡±


    ¡°Of course. Who doesn¡¯t? In my line of work, I¡¯ve made plenty of sacrifices. I¡¯m in a risk induced profession that is always a mistake away from something fatal. Yet, I¡¯ve been able to handle everything as it comes and goes¨C¡°


    Jin leaned forward in the chair as he became more invested in his words.


    ¡°¨Cand now you¡¯re telling me that something is out of my control. Something inside of me. Something that I can¡¯t take down or even run away from. And one day, whether I want it to or not, it¡¯ll come for me. Fucking ironic.¡±


    Jin leaned back into the chair again, slightly upset. Dr. Brown continued writing notes.


    ¡°I¡¯m in my thirties Doc. I have less than ten actual contacts in my phone, and when I needed to depend on someone beside myself, I was on the verge of having absolutely nothing to show for it.¡±


    Dr. Brown clicks his pen closed. He sets the notebook back onto his desk and glanced back up at Jin.


    ¡°Your thirties are an important part of your life Jin. It¡¯s a time where you begin to cement the second half of life.¡±


    ¡°I suppose¡­¡± responded Jin.


    There was a momentary silence again. It felt much colder than the ones from before.


    ¡°People at the office seem to get along with me fine. Hell, they even approach me. It¡¯s just, when they do, my brain shuts off a bit. It¡¯s like, I can acknowledge them and give the most barebone of interaction, but I don¡¯t feel a need to invest in it.¡±


    ¡°Do you think there is a reason you don¡¯t feel that need?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. If I did, and something happened, then what? That time is exchanged for more pain? It just always felt easier to be at a distance.¡±


    Jin felt his legs tingle. He stood up from the chair and walked over to one of the diplomas that was hung on the wall. He saw Dr. Brown in the reflection. Still sitting in his chair. Still listening to every word Jin said.


    Then, Jin saw himself in the reflection. His goatee was a bit unkempt and a couple of loose, long hairs straggled away from the others. A gray hair poked out from the pores of his epidermis; right in the middle of the patch that covered the tip of his chin. He grazed his hand over it before turning back around. He felt uncharacteristically tired for it being only half past noon.


    ¡°I was watching a movie the other day. The one where the woman jumps around the multiverse while trying to get a loan for her coffee shop,¡± said Jin.


    ¡°Anything, Anywhere, All the Time.¡± Dr. Brown interjected.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the one.¡±


    ¡°Often times, we will look to entertainment to help us find meaning in different things.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve made a lot of decisions, a lot of mistakes, that led to where I am today. Some that, if I could go back, I¡¯d change. There are also a few that I wouldn¡¯t change, so maybe it¡¯s all a wash.¡±


    Jin returned back to the chair and continued, ¡°Sometimes I wonder how things would be if I wasn¡¯t me.¡±


    The doctor clicked his pen again, and wrote a few final notes in his notebook.


    ¡°When you try to improve yourself, and you have to make an effort to keep up the mask every day, when does it no longer become a mask that you wear?¡±


    Dr. Brown continued his writing, he chose not to answer the question and let Jin ponder in silence. Jin took notice of all the writing that Dr. Brown had done during their appointment.


    ¡°So, what do you do with the notes?¡±


    ¡°They are for my own personal, private, record. It helps me carry on our progress into future sessions. All of my work remains confidential Mr. Shimada,¡± he answered.


    I don¡¯t know. Feels a little like an interrogation when you write things based off of my meaningless words.¡±


    Dr. Brown raised his right brow. ¡°Diction. Do you feel that I¡¯m interrogating you?¡±


    ¡°Would the correct term be interviewing?¡±


    ¡°Therapy, Mr. Shimada.¡±


    ¡°I feel like my thoughts are all over the place here,¡± Jin sighed.


    Jin looked at his watch to see how much time had passed. He was only halfway through the allotted session period.


    ¡°From all this yapping, or reflecting, it sort of feels like I should open myself up a bit more to others. Maybe take some time off from work and reset. Hell, maybe it¡¯s time for me to retire and settle down.¡±


    Dr. Brown placed his notes back on the table.


    ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you could give me your opinion, Doc?¡± asked Jin.


    ¡°That¡¯s not usually standard,¡± he stated.


    Jin laughs, ¡°Come on Doc, this is why we pay you the big bucks.¡±


    ¡°If you insist, Mr. Shimada. But just this once,¡± he said as he adjusted his glasses. ¡°Your recent health scare diagnosis has clearly had a negative effect on your mentality towards your life. This -- paired with your self-isolation -- can lead to feelings of depression and other mental illnesses. This cycle is always a risk of feeding on itself. You enjoy things being calculated and in control, and for the first time in a long time, you can¡¯t have it that way. It might be good for you to reach out of your comfort zone. That could be with friends, or family. Rebuilding connections with other people could be the first step in a healthy healing process. Or else you risk this cycle continuing, much to your current dissatisfaction. To put in blunt terms, get out of the apartment, maybe go on a date, learn how to socialize again and why it¡¯s important to invest in other people.¡±


    The room went silent again as the doctor finished his analysis.


    ¡°Well fuck me. You got all of that based off of the last twenty minutes?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just a professional opinion Mr. Shimada. You don¡¯t have to take it too close to heart.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps¡­,¡± said Jin. He stood from his chair again, this time with a bit of urgency; much to the doctor¡¯s surprise. ¡°I think I¡¯ve had enough of an existential crisis for today.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Shimada, we still have another twenty minutes¨C¡°


    ¡°¨CNo, I think you nailed it. Besides, I have work to get to.¡±


    Jin turned back to the door and began to head out from the office. As he breached through the door, he turned back to Dr. Brown, ¡°You¡¯ve given me a lot to think about. I¡¯ll keep in touch.¡±


    ¡°Please do, Mr. Shimada,¡± said Dr. Brown as Jin left the office.


    The doctor remained in his seat after the doors closed shut. He took a sip of his coffee and glanced down at his desk. Noticing the speck of dust that had entered earlier, he removed a cloth from his drawer, and gave the desk a quick wipe. Spotless.

 Chapter 7: Guns and Jell-O

    Allen approached the office building of H.I.S. In his hand was a venti iced caramel macchiato with an added shot and extra whip from Moonbucks coffee.


    Inside the reception area of the building, Delores was wrapped at her desk in a new novel: Dawn Whispers; a romance novel where a woman named Dawn has a wild fling with an entity that can only see her in the golden hour of morning and evening. All the while, she is working to secure a merger that could save her company. Delores turned to a new chapter as Allen approached the desk.


    ¡°Morning Delores,¡± said Allen as he scanned his badge.


    Delores gave a slight nod as a gesture of acknowledgement, but she didn¡¯t break from her pace. She clicked for the elevator door to open and Allen entered. Once the elevator door closed, Delores scanned the room to make sure she was alone. Once the coast was clear, she reached from under her desk and pulled out a flask. She took a quick swig from the metal vessel of bliss and relaxed further into her chair.


    Down in the office, Allen approached his desk. He sat down at him computer and noticed his mouse was missing, making the computer unusable. On his keyboard, all the vowel keys were also removed. He opened his desk drawer, thinking that maybe Hugh, Carlos, George, or one of the other guys in the office were putting him through a prank. Opening the drawer, he noticed that something else was missing, something far more important, his favorite revolver wasn¡¯t in its hidden emergency compartment.


    ¡°What are you up to Allen?¡± asked a voice from behind.


    Allen jumped in a brief moment of startle and panic.


    ¡°Shit, Hugh, did you move my stuff?¡± asked Allen.


    Hugh let out a small laugh, ¡°No, but Carlos was asking around for you, and I thing I saw George rummaging through your desk.¡±


    Allen released a sigh and stood back up from his desk. Across the office he could see George in the break room, but Carlos was unaccounted for. Walking across the office to the breakroom, Allen approached George.


    ¡°George, my guy, did you go to my desk this morning?¡±


    George looked at Allen and raised an eyebrow. He was making his best effort not to smile. ¡°Oh Allen, hey. Yeah, I went to your desk earlier looking for a spoon. I know you tend to eat at your desk so I thought you might have some silverware.¡±


    ¡°What did you need the silverware for?¡±


    ¡°Oh to make some Jell-O,¡± said George as he moved over to the fridge and opened the door. ¡°Luckily the barrel of your revolver made for a great spoon to stir.¡±


    Allen pulled out a massive bowl of Jell-O. He set it over a plate and removed it. Center, surrounded by red in the center of the gelatin, was Allen¡¯s revolver.


    ¡°Yeah, I accidently dropped it though. Didn¡¯t want to get my hands sticky reaching in though. So, you know, we¡¯ll get it out eventually.¡± George laughed.


    Allen, wasn¡¯t amused, but he didn¡¯t want to start anything in the office. He let out a fake, friendly laugh and smile. ¡°Oh¡­ that¡¯s a good one.¡±


    George patted him on the back and handed him a spoon.


    ¡°The cherry will go great with your coffee there,¡± chuckled George.


    Allen grabbed the plate of Jell-O and returned to his desk. He began to scoop away at the gelatin to get his firearm back. George and a couple of his office buddies were having a laugh in the breakroom.


    Once the firearm was free from its gelatinous prison, Allen began to take it apart to clean. All the sugar was bad for the chamber and metal finish. Hugh returned to Allen¡¯s cubicle.


    ¡°Sorry about the revolver man, here¡¯s your mouse and vowel keys back for your computer.¡± He said handing Allen the computer parts.


    ¡°Where did you find these?¡±


    ¡°I had a word with Carlos. Let him know that this petty pranking shit isn¡¯t going to fly anymore. Might¡¯ve thrown him around a bit too, but that¡¯s not the point.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Well, thanks man.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡±


    Hugh returned to his nearby desk. Allen thought of what he said the other night, that he should try to act more like his drunken-self. Just because Hugh told Carlos that the prank shenanigans were over, didn¡¯t mean that Allen wasn¡¯t going to retaliate. He had enough of the pranks, headlocks, and belittlement. As one of the older hitmen in the office, with what surely had to be the highest kill count, he wasn¡¯t going to let it slide anymore.


    Later in the morning, George got up to go to the restroom. When he left, Allen crept over to his cubical. He took a bottle of military grade SPF (Spray Polyurethane Foam) and implemented it to the small gaps in the wheels of his office chair. The foam was made so that agents could make platforms and walls on the fly depending on the nozzle used. The top-secret foam was strong enough to take the impact of a handful of bullets if placed thick enough. This installation made George¡¯s chair permanently locked into place.


    Allen then returned to the break room. He grabbed Carlos¡¯s lunch bag that was marked in the fridge. While nobody was looking, he took the lunch bag outside of the office. Around the backside of the office, there was a known wasp nest. Allen took a small paper cup and trapped a few underneath as they grazed in the cracks of the cement. He used a piece of paper to transfer the cup into the lunch bag. Once the bag was reclosed, he pinched around the cup, lifted it, and laid it on its side; now the wasps were free in the bag.


    Allen returned to his desk with the lunch bag. He used tape to wrap it shut. As he walked back to the break room, he passed by Carlos.


    ¡°Allen, is that my lunch?¡± Carlos asked confused.


    ¡°Awe jeez Carlos. I had heard from Hugh that you stole my vowel keys and mouse, so I thought it would be funny to tape up your lunch.¡±


    Carlos laughed and grabbed the lunch bag, ¡°You¡¯re a funny guy Allen.¡± Carlos began to walk away with his lunch, ¡°But Hugh got us good, because he stole my computer parts this morning too. Tried to pin it on you, but I know you¡¯re above such a silly prank.¡±


    A pit grew in Allen¡¯s stomach, ¡°What do you mean¡­¡±


    ¡°Hugh stole your stuff and tricked you, my dude. He also gave George the idea to put your revolver in Jell-O. It¡¯s all good though, taping up my lunch isn¡¯t a big deal.¡±


    Allen began to sweat profusely. He turned and looked across the office. George had returned from his elongated bathroom break and went to slide into his office chair. The wheels remained locked and the momentum from George caused the chair to fall over. George rolled with the chair into the cubical wall which was knocked over, falling into Esteban.


    Esteban was a recently acquired hitman from H.I.S.¡¯s Mexico division. His English was sparse, but his giant 6¡¯8 280-pound frame made sure that the guys were super nice and patient with him; especially due to his short temper.


    ¡°Awe, what the fuck,¡± said George. He had taken most of the hit through his shoulder. He noticed Esteban underneath the cubical wall with his chair.


    ¡°T¨² est¨¢s muerto, Jorge,¡± said Esteban as he grunted to push the wall and chair off of him.


    Allen felt guilt pour over him as he watched the scene unfold. Esteban grabbed George by the collar and threw him into the copying machine. A few of the other hitmen in the office tried to provoke further fighting, but a few others stepped in to break it up. As it cleared up, Allen turned to warn Carlos about the wasps. He was so distracted, that the real prank on Carlos had slipped his mind; but when Allen turned back around, Carlos was gone.


    ¡°Fuck! Allen!¡± Carlos yelled from the break room.


    He had opened the bag and the wasps flew out in a fit of rage. They stung Carlos on the arm and neck. Allen saw the chaos unfolding and slowly slithered back to his cubical.


    From across the office, Hugh was laughing by the water cooler. He watched the series of events unfold.


    Despite everything that had happened, George and Carlos didn¡¯t approach Allen for the rest of the day. Allen was tense for the remainder of the day, waiting for the retribution that never came. Once the evening arrived, Allen logged out of his computer and left the office.


    Outside in the parking lot, George and Carlos were waiting for him at his car. George was holding a can of SPF.


    ¡°Hey guys,¡± said Allen hesitantly.


    The two didn¡¯t smile upon Allen¡¯s appearance.


    ¡°I was going to foam your van Allen,¡± George admitted.


    ¡°Yeah, and I was going to put wasp venom in your coffee to give you itchy throat and soreness,¡± said Carlos.


    ¡°And¡­ you aren¡¯t because you realized how good of friends we are, and that we are too old for such silly pranks.¡±


    George glanced down at the can. ¡°Hell no, I¡¯ll get back at you eventually¨C¡°


    ¡°¨CAnd so will I,¡± interrupted Carlos.


    ¡°But we just wanted to let you know. We¡¯re coming for you, eventually.¡±


    Allen knew he was going to have to look over his shoulder and be even more stressed at work. The two men walked away from the van toward their own parked cars.


    ¡°What about Hugh?¡± asked Allen.


    Carlos turned around, ¡°Oh don¡¯t worry about him. We¡¯ve already done what we needed to in order to pay him back.¡±


    Carlos and George entered their vehicles and drove off for the night. Allen entered his type 2 van. As he climbed in, he noticed a sticky substance was placed on his headrest. Probably a revenge prank from Carlos. While annoying, Allen would be able to clean it up when he returned home. He just couldn¡¯t lean back while driving.


    It had been a long day and he was exhausted. Allen placed the key into the ignition and gave it a twist. Upon starting, the front of the vehicle made a strange rattling noise.


    Allen leaned forward in an attempt to listen, when suddenly, the airbag went off. It pounded him in the face. The force knocked off his glasses and he banged his head on the headrest.


    With Allen¡¯s glasses on the floor, his vision was heavily impaired. He attempted to lean back forward so he could reach down and grab them, but the back of his head was now stuck on the headrest. The sticky, glue-like substance had trapped him in place.


    Allen let out a frustrated laugh, for that was all he could do.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he sighed.

 Chapter 8: First Steps

    The exterior of Jin¡¯s office shines in the afternoon sun. A pair of joggers pass by as Jin pulled up to the curb to park. He exited his car and moved up the porch to the front door. Jin heard a muffled voice from inside, probably Sebastian on the phone. He is slow to put in his keys to open the door.


    Inside, Sebastian heard the keys insert into the door lock. He is quick to hang up his phone conversation and he tossed the phone into the desk drawer. Jin opened the door and entered the apartment.


    ¡°Hey babe, how was your weekend?¡± said Sebastian playfully.


    Jin laughed at the flamboyant greeting. ¡°It was fine, did you enjoy the extra days off?¡± he replied.


    ¡°Of course, I did. I went down to Miami with the girls.¡±


    ¡°Jessica?¡±


    Sebastian made a face of disgust mixed with disapproval, ¡°Oh no. We aren¡¯t on speaking terms right now.¡±


    Jin took off his jacket and moved over to his desk. ¡°Oh really? That¡¯s too bad? Who were you on the phone with?¡±


    ¡°I would never be on my phone while on the clock. Don¡¯t you know¨C¡°


    Jin raised an eyebrow while Sebastian stammered off. His voice trailed off while failing to gaslight.


    ¡°¨CAnyhow¡­ there¡¯s a couple of new job lined up for you.¡°


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought,¡± Jin said as he cracked open a can of beer from the minifridge under his desk.


    ¡°The gang war between the 202 Locos and D.C. Blacks has gotten out of hand. There is a contract out to kill a lieutenant on each side and frame it. That would incarcerate and kill 2 of the top leaders on both sides. At the office you can pick up the fingerprints and tools needed for it.¡±


    Jin mulled over the idea. He wasn¡¯t convinced.


    In California there is a contract out on another politician. Pretty standard, although the dealer of the contract seems to be unlisted, which is bizarre.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t governor Pines unlisted from last week?¡± asked Jin.


    Sebastian scrolls on the computer to find the file. He made a few clicks to open the document.


    ¡°Actually, yes. That job last week was unlisted.¡±


    ¡°Then scratch that one,¡± ordered Jin.


    Before the organization of H.I.S. was created, hitmen and other workers would take on contracts with certain governments. As time went on and their work needed to become more central and organized, H.I.S. employees would be tied to a single government. Workers such as Jin, Allen, and Hugh, were organized by the US Government through H.I.S. They were only supposed to take jobs that originated from American sources.


    H.I.S. employees can transfer to other countries when approved by both sides, such as the case with Esteban moving from Mexico to the U.S. When a hitman¡¯s contract ends every three years, they are also free to apply and move to a different country/organization. Similar to a sports athlete that changes teams in free agency.


    The danger with unlisted contracts, is that they can be unreliable. If someone were to hack the database for H.I.S. and change details on an assassination contract, or add a contract that shouldn¡¯t be there, it can jeopardize the whole system. If a hitman does this knowingly and they are found out, they will be blacklisted from H.I.S. which will result in either a prolonged suspension to prison, or the termination of a hitman altogether.


    The reason for the creation of H.I.S. and other branches around the world came down to keeping jobs classified. During the cold war, hitmen were used by both the U.S. and Russian government. If a contractor were to take jobs on both sides, that means they would know classified information from conflicted parties. This, in returned, created a breach of national security, so H.I.S. was formed to keep information enclosed to certain countries.


    Should a hitman change countries, their resources and database will be wiped from their accessible records. There is also an understanding within the organization that sharing secrets with your new country will lead to blacklisting and the termination of a hitman¡¯s life.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Most employees of H.I.S. are privately contracted and recruited through experience in the military. This patriotic source of hitmen typically keeps employees loyal to their original country. It also allows for a better floor for the skill that a H.I.S. employee has. Due to the danger of the job, hitmen are paid well to enjoy their lives as they are still living, since most don¡¯t make it to retirement.


    Should a hitman decide to retire or resign from their work, They are debriefed from H.I.S. They are given their assets such as cash and property, but expelled from their resources of weapons and information. They are also given a procedure that wipes their mind of all work they¡¯ve done, and employees are not allowed to visit or communicate with retired hitmen. They are essentially exiled from the life they lived in order to enjoy their life anew. Should a hitman¡¯s family be aware of their work in any way, they too will need to be debriefed and mindwiped.


    Jin didn¡¯t want to go near an unlisted contract after completing one. Killing a high-level target was already risky, but if someone wanted multiple politicians dead and it wasn¡¯t sanctioned by the government, then there was something wrong going on.


    ¡°Is there anything else?¡± asked Jin.


    Sebastian went back to contract listings, ¡°At the moment, there isn¡¯t.¡± Sebastian looked up from the monitor and glanced at Jin from across the room; who was sunken into his office chair. ¡°Is everything okay?¡±


    ¡°You know¡­ that¡¯s a good question.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ how was the doctor¡¯s appointment. You never told me what happened?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. They just recommended therapy.¡±


    ¡°Okay, and¡­¡±


    ¡°And I went. It was fine. It was good, even.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m proud of you Mr. Shut-in.¡±


    ¡°Thanks¡­¡±


    Sebastian¡¯s phone kept vibrating away in the desk. He opened the desk drawer and pulled out the phone. ¡°Do you mind if I go on this for a sec?¡±


    Jin waved his hand, ¡°I¡¯m surprised your asking this time. I¡¯ve never stopped you.¡±


    Sebastian¡¯s fingers blazed across the touch screen keyboard. ¡°Some of the girls and I were thinking about hitting up Baltimore this weekend. Living it up at a few clubs downtown.¡±


    Jin contemplated to himself while Sebastian texted away. An idea slowly sprung from his mind and he rose up in his seat.


    ¡°Hey¡­¡± started Jin.


    Sebastian paused from his tsunami of messaging, ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose¡­¡± Jin rubbed the side and back of his head, ¡°You would, maybe, possibly, potentially, have room for one more in that trip.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± responded Sabastian, surprised.


    ¡°If not, it¡¯s totally not a big deal.¡±


    ¡°You can come Jin.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to impose on anything.¡± He insisted.


    ¡°Jin, really, I¡¯d like for you to come,¡± assured Sebastian.


    There was a silence in the room. Jin had never shown interest in socializing with Sebastian outside of the office. While he was a bit surprised by the sudden inquiry, he was happy to let Jin join.


    ¡°Do you want me to add you to the group chat?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know about all of that.¡±


    Jin got up from his desk. He set the beer back in the fridge to drink later.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m going to head into the office. Just, umm, keep me in the loop, okay.¡±


    Sebastian nodded as Jin walked to the door. ¡°I¡¯ll be here till 6 if you need anything from me. Otherwise, I¡¯ll see you tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sounds good,¡± said Jin. He walked out the front door and returned to his car. He started the engine, shifted it into drive and u-turned out from the curb since there wasn¡¯t any traffic in the neighborhood.


    After a short drive, Jin pulled into the parking lot of the office. Outside the office stood Allen, enjoying another signature ice cream; but something seemed off about him. Jin parked into a spot and approached the building. As he stepped closer, he saw what was different about Allen.


    ¡°Allen¡­ what happened to your hair!?¡±


    Allen¡¯s hair was shaved off, a short stubble sprouted from his scalp.


    ¡°It¡¯s a long story Jin.¡± Allen said finishing his vanilla treat.


    The two walked together into the lobby. Allen pulled out his badge to scan.


    ¡°Oh, so you brought yours today?¡± Jin remarked, sarcastically.


    The two quietly scanned their badges. Delores was in the middle of a mid-day nap. A book rested on her lap. It read ¡°Sudden Dawn¡±.


    ¡°Oh wow, she¡¯s on the sequel already,¡± remarked Allen.


    The two entered the elevator and Allen entered the code to go down to the office. The elevator doors closed.


    ¡°So, what brings you here today?¡± asked Allen.


    ¡°Just wanted to grab a couple of things at my desk and the armory before the weekend,¡± he answered.


    ¡°Ah, makes sense. Totally. I¡¯ll probably do the same.¡±


    The doors reopened. Jin walked over to his desk and Allen went to the watercooler to chat with George and Esteban; they had cleared things up from the previous day¡¯s hijinks.


    Jin sat at his computer and logged onto his personal email. There was the usual junk mail, along with an email from his father, which he quickly threw into the trash folder, and an email from his high school reaching out about a 15-year reunion. Due to covid, they weren¡¯t able to host a 10-year reunion, so the idea got delayed to 15. The hypothetical meetup was still a few months out, but the organizers were inquiring on volunteers.


    Normally, Jin would¡¯ve thrown the email into the trash. What would he do at a reunion? What would he even talk about with people that he knew in a completely different phase of his life?


    ¡°Oh wow, you¡¯re a doctor? Yeah, I¡¯m in the assassination business myself. Maybe you¡¯ve done surgery trying to save a few of my targets?¡± he thought to himself.


    Jin placed the social invite into his ¡°starred¡± folder. He was in a positive mood, and maybe doing something different would be a net-positive. As he was scrolling away, Hugh approached his desk.


    ¡°Hey buddy,¡± started Hugh.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Jin responded.


    ¡°The boss wants to see you. I don¡¯t know what it¡¯s about, but be careful,¡± he informed.

 Chapter 9: The Boss

    The Boss of H.I.S. was a secretive person who rarely made appearances in the office. She was an early 50''s, no nonsense, African American woman with more skeletons in her closet than a Halloween thrift store. Skeletons that will, one day soon, be buried with her own. Her resting boss face was enough to make any assassin in the office stone cold. Whenever she wanted to see someone, it usually wasn¡¯t good. A few of the guys joked characters such as Amanda Waller, from DC Comics, were based off of her. But Jin didn¡¯t think that was completely accurate. While an interaction with her was uncommon in his years at H.I.S., he never saw her as someone completely cutthroat or ruthless.


    Rather, she was just cold and direct when speaking to others. She wasn¡¯t one to show emotion and kept everything strictly professional with the employees. Which was probably for the best considering the turnover rate due to onsite deaths from contracts. The leader of H.I.S. needed to be someone detached from their employees.


    Jin got up from his desk and walked over to the northern wall of the office.


    As he approached the door, he began to wonder the reason for him being called over. Did he cause an issue by taking an unlisted contract? Perhaps there was an issue within the office that needed to be resolved, such as Hugh¡¯s insistence that a union should be created for the employees. Jin was face to face with the door.


    Knock.


    Knock,


    Knock.


    Jin''s knocks can be heard ringing through the shadows of the office. Hovering over a desk, a pedicured hand clicked on a button for the door to unlock. A buzz rang out and the door¡¯s lock shifted. Jin entered the room, his demeanor was focused, yet tense given the uncertainty of the situation. Sitting stoically at her desk was The Boss; who¡¯s real name was Ava Davis.


    Jin entered the room and Ava clicked onto the security button once again. The door locked up and was sealed from any eavesdroppers.


    ¡°Jin, please sit,¡± she calmly ordered.


    Jin obliged and sat in the left chair in front of her desk. The Boss stood up and walked over to a wall in the room with a projection screen. She turned it on and a blank presentation appeared.


    ¡°Boss, what¡¯s this for?¡± asked Jin.


    ¡°First question for you Jin, are you commited to H.I.S.?¡±


    Jin was a bit puzzled by the question, ¡°Of course I am.¡±


    ¡°And if I needed you to take a job, would you do it?¡±


    Jin hesitated, ¡°Depends I suppose. We are allowed to accept and decline jobs as we see fit.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you are correct in that assessment. But answer the question, yes, or no?¡±


    ¡°Can I hear the job first before I commit?¡±


    Ava scanned the room. She returned to her desk and clicked another button. The security cameras in the room were shut off.


    ¡°Very well,¡± she answered.


    The Boss clicked on a remote that controlled the projected presentation. The slide changed to show a tabloid picture of a man in a business suit. He had grayed dark hair and a light stubble.


    ¡°Are you familiar with who this is?¡± asked Ava.


    Jin squinted at the picture. The man looked familiar, but he couldn¡¯t place where he had seen him before.


    ¡°His name is Richard Burke,¡± she informed Jin.


    Jin suddenly remembered, ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the prosthetic guy. He¡¯s making robotic limbs to help our veterans and other people. I saw his ad on TV last week.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s correct. He is the CEO of Incognito Inc. One of the most progressive and dominant tech and medical research companies in the nation. Do you know what makes them so progressive and successful?¡±


    Jin shrugged, he didn¡¯t stay up to date with businesses or politics unless it was directly told to him.


    Ava continued, ¡°It¡¯s their charity work, political funding, and expansive work in both the prosthesis and robotic markets. They¡¯ve helped thousands, if not millions of people.¡±Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s the problem then?¡±


    ¡°All of this work and publicity is just on the surface.¡± Ava clicked on the remote to change the slide. It changed to show one of their headquarters in Silicon Valley. ¡°Before I continue, I want to make it clear. What is said in this room, does not leave this room. Understand?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Jin answered.


    ¡°Over the last six months, my intel has led us to believe that their operations within their Silicone Valley location contain both illegal and extremely dangerous activity.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡±


    ¡°Until last week, we didn¡¯t have confirmation; but now we do.¡±


    The projection slide changes again to show a picture of Governor Brad Pines.


    Jin raised an eyebrow, ¡°Are you saying that Incognito paid for my recent hit on Governor Pines? I get it was unlisted, but I don¡¯t understand why.¡±


    Ava reached opened a deep drawer in her desk, ¡°No Jin, Incognito didn¡¯t pay for the hit on Governor Pines.¡± She lifted and tossed the severed head of what was once the Governor of Atlanta onto the desk. ¡°I did.¡±


    Jin flinched and repulsed back into his seat.


    ¡°Why? Why did you do that? Why was the contract unlisted if it was from H.I.S. itself?¡±


    ¡°Calm down Jin, I¡¯ll explain.¡±


    Jin leaned forward and gave the severed head a second look. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ mechanical?¡±


    ¡°Yes, your most recent job confirmed my suspicions. I have reason to believe that Incognito Inc has swapped our politicians with robotic humanoids. How many, we are unsure.¡±


    ¡°And how would they manage that? People have friends and families.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any confirmations yet, but I believe that they are using our mindwiping technology. They initially target politicians that are younger and single. In the last two election cycles, there has been an unusual number of incumbent losses to new faces in both parties. The civilian population believe this is due to the civil unrest the country has seen over the last 6 years. That our government is progressing and turning a new leaf to the next generation with new ideas, while in reality the elections have been fraudulent.¡±


    ¡°And the change to younger people make for easier targets?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Once a politician is targeted, they are kidnapped by Incognito and mindwiped. They then transfer the memories that were wiped from the host and place it into a humanoid prosthetic. With all of the hosts memories and personality installed, the artificial intelligence can easily blend back in to society and continue their work.¡±


    ¡°And why do this?¡±


    ¡°To pass legislation and funding. To monopolize their industry. Technology, A.I., prosthesis, medicine, these are some of the largest sectors of growth and power withing the next twenty years. When you control what laws and direction the government aligns itself with and allocates its resources, that would propel any company to a monopoly of wealth and power.¡±


    ¡°Especially when you can control both parties.¡±


    ¡°Exactly, so even when the president might change, or congress leans slightly republican or democratic, Incognito can retain its control.¡±


    ¡°And with younger politicians that have no term limits, they have nothing to stop them keeping control for the next two or three decades as long as they continue to win elections,¡± said Jin


    Ava paused for a moment, ¡°The questions I still have is how they received that mindwipe technology to begin with. The technology is kept classified with it only being a resource to H.I.S. and the highest, most secretive branches of the US Government we work with.¡±


    ¡°You think there¡¯s a mole?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t eliminated the possibility.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why you left the contract unlisted?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I couldn¡¯t risk a leak in case one of our employees was on the inside. If there was a leak that H.I.S. had caught on, it could be a grave error.¡±


    ¡°What happens to the people that Incognito kidnaps?¡±


    ¡°Your guess is as good as mine. I would assume that they keep the bodies in an induced coma and cryo-sleep. In the off-chance that they lose an election for any reason or they need to switch to a new person. It would be easy to place the memories back into the host¡¯s body and leave them with just enough of a hazy memory to recount and think that they¡¯d lived out the last span of years.¡±


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°At the moment, no. This mission, should you choose to accept it, would have you creating a small strike force. Your immediate mission would be to infiltrate Incognito¡¯s Silicone Valley location and gather intel. Either evidence of who they¡¯ve gained control over, what technology they are using, how high this conspiracy goes up the chain of command, or anything else that can be helpful. Is there anyone within the office that you trust with your life.¡±


    Jin contemplated briefly, only one name came to mind.


    ¡°Allen is the only person I completely trust.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Holiday?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s been here longer than most people. And I trust him more than anyone else.¡±


    ¡°Good to know.¡±


    ¡°Is there anyone else you were thinking of bringing in Boss?¡±


    Ava clicked on the controller for a new slide. It is split across three profiles of different employees at H.I.S. The first profile was Trevor. A late 20''s Caucasian male with long, thin brown hair tied up. He had slim glasses with a short chin and looked as though he made a side hustle as a barista.


    The second profile was Isabella. Early 20''s. Hispanic. She''s attractive, but not girly. Her eyes gave off the impression that she might be reserved, but not shy. The key to her is one built through trust. Jin had no experience working with her, since she was a new recruit just this year. Her background was more in vehicle operation, rather than gunwork. More of a pilot than a soldier.


    The final profile was Andre. Late 30''s. African American. He had the suave charisma of a Denzel Washington character with the look and body of Terry Crews. Jin had worked with him before, but he kept most of his work to the west coast. He worked at H.I.S.¡¯s smaller Southern California branch. Dude could handle himself in a fight, but was one to have a loose trigger.


    The projector deactivates. Ava slides a dossier folder across the desk.


    ¡°Is this a mission you accept Jin?


    Jin thought to himself for a moment. A lot of information had been given to him, and this seemed like an important job. He trusted the Boss, but he was hesitant to say yes. That hesitance told him the answer.


    Jin looked down at his palms; they shook ever so slightly. Then he looked back up at The Boss.


    ¡°No.¡± he said.

 Chapter 10: Second Option

    The air felt tense. Jin stood up from his chair and gave Ava a slight bow.


    ¡°Please, excuse me,¡± he said.


    Jin turned around and walked to the door. Ava hit the button to unlock it. A buzz rang out and Jin reached for the handle.


    ¡°Jin¡­¡± Ava began as the door opened slightly. Jin turned around to face his boss. ¡°If you change your mind, this job could use you.¡±


    Jin nodded and exited the office. He returned to his desk to calm his nerves. His palms felt sweaty and his heart was still in his throat. Allan approached Jin¡¯s desk and rested his arms on the cubicle walls.


    ¡°You good buddy?¡± asked Allen.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Jin responded.


    A few cubicles down, Allen¡¯s computer lit up. The speakers blasted out a soundbite ¡°You Got Mail¡± to notify that Allen had a new email.


    Jin glanced past Allen and down the hall at his cubicle.


    ¡°You still have an AOL email?¡± Jin questioned.


    ¡°Oh no, no, no. I just have that as my notification sound on my computer.¡±


    ¡°Because¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nostalgic. Plus it reminds me of my favorite movie.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got mail is your favorite movie?¡±


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯m a huge Meg Ryan fan.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Jin smirked.


    ¡°Ever since I saw the Diner scene at 10 years old. That curly blonde hair¡­¡± Allen paused for a moment as if he was reliving a memory. He laughed, ¡°Let¡¯s just say from that day on little Allen didn¡¯t want to play with Legos anymore.¡±


    Jin pinched the top part of the bridge of his nose and cringed slightly. ¡°Allen, sometimes I just can¡¯t with you.¡±


    ¡°Then you add Tom Hanks to the movie and it¡¯s leaving me starstruck. So yeah, ¡®You¡¯ve got Mail¡¯ is my favorite movie.¡±


    Allen went to address the email, but quickly turned back to Jin to ask him an important question, ¡°What¡¯s your favorite movie?¡±


    Jin thought for a moment, he thought about lying and saying something like The Matrix, or The Godfather, but he knew he had to be honest with himself and Allen, ¡°Toy Story.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Allen smiled, ¡°Tom Hanks! Man is a national treasure.¡±


    Allen returned to his cubicle. Behind Jin, Hugh passed by, ¡°I always thought Toy Story 2 was the best.¡±


    Jin swerved in his chair to face Hugh, ¡°Can¡¯t beat the original.¡±


    At his computer, Allen opened his email. He was giddy with anticipation since he didn¡¯t receive emails too often, unless it was from his parents. To whom were retired and living out their days back in Ann Arbor, Michigan; away from the neighborhoods of Detroit that Allen was raised on.


    The email was from The Boss. It asked Allen to report to her office at his earliest convenience. He was quick to shut the browser and race to the door to Ava¡¯s office. A buzz rang out and Allen entered.


    Hugh took notice of Allen going into the office so shortly after Jin left.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you said in there, or what anything is about, but whatever it is, looks like you got Allen involved.¡±


    Jin turned back to look at Allen¡¯s empty cubicle. He gave out a bit of a sigh. Hugh left the vicinity and Jin continued to mess around on his computer to pass the time.


    After a short while, the buzz of The Boss¡¯s door unlocking rang out again and Allen pranced his way through the doorway. He approached Jin who was on the verge of taking a nap.


    ¡°I was just given a top secret, super important mission,¡± he said proudly.


    Jin leaned back and tilted his head up to face Allen upside-down. ¡°Congratulations.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, The Boss said I was amongst her top choices for this secret job. I didn¡¯t get all the details, but she said I needed to form a team and add one more member.¡±


    Jin knew where this was going. ¡°Look, Allen¡­¡±


    ¡°Come on, buddy. What do you say?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m good for now. I¡¯m not looking for a new task right now.¡±


    Allen¡¯s face did a poor job to hide his disappointment. He was never one to have a strong poker face. ¡°I understand.¡±


    Allen turned his sights to Hugh, who was across the office at the watercooler. He made an attempt to walk with a bit of swagger across the office. He swung his left arm and kept his right hand in his pocket. Allen swayed his shoulders. As he walked by other coworkers, he gave a nonchalant nod.


    ¡°Hugh, my guy¡± Allen began as he leaned onto the watercooler. He grabbed a paper cup and pressed it on the tab for water, not realizing he was pressing for hot water.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Allen replied.


    ¡°Boss has a top secret mission for me, said the team needed on more. You in?¡±


    Allen took a sip of the water. The water singed his tongue and he nearly dropped the cup.


    Hugh glanced at the steam rising from the cup and back up at Allen. ¡°You good?¡±


    ¡°Never better.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ What¡¯s the payout?¡±


    Allen didn¡¯t actually know the answer to that question, but he didn¡¯t want to discourage Hugh from joining his team. ¡°That¡¯s classified. But believe me, it¡¯ll be worth it.¡±


    Hugh raised an eyebrow and Allen took another sip from his hot water; he was too committed to set it aside.


    ¡°Sure Allen, I¡¯ll work with you.¡±


    With the cup half empty, Allen added cold water to make the liquid lukewarm. He nodded his head back in an attempt to act subtle. ¡°Cool. I¡¯ll send you the details,¡± he remarked as he moved back to his desk.


    The rest of the day at the office went without anything else of importance occurring. Jin browsed on his computer; Allen went home early to take care of some ¡°home-work¡± as he called it. Hugh chatted with George, Esteban, and Carl.


    As six o¡¯clock rolled around, Jin returned to his car. He remembered his phone had vibrated as he was entering Ava¡¯s office. He had forgotten to see what it was. He swiped on his phone notifications and saw that Sebastian had added him to the group chat for Baltimore this upcoming weekend.


    A few messages from the girls poked fun at Sebastian for adding another guy to that chat. They asked if Jin was ¡®like¡¯ Sebastian with a few purple vegetable emojis and a set of eyes looking to the left. Jin didn¡¯t respond and set the phone on the passenger seat. He drove home for the night, mentally preparing himself for the weekend that was quickly approaching.

 Chapter 11: Risk

    In New York City, far from his operations in Silicone Valley, and away from his puppets that worked through the playgrounds of D.C. Richard Burke spent most of his free time relaxing in his penthouse suite. Being on the 130<sup>th</sup> floor of the Central Park Tower gave him a clear view over the city. It allowed him to grasp the alluding feeling of pure omnipresence.


    From his home computer he kept all of his files from work. Profiles on politicians, data and statistics on public opinion and predetermined outcomes in politics, as well as blackmail and fragile information on those currently with power. Often in the afternoons, when his time was free, he would browse over the files. Looking for ways to align himself for success. The world of politics and power was similar to a high stakes game of ¡®Risk¡¯; where he would control his plethora of resources to take and stack more power to his advantage.


    A new player had decided to enter his game though, and uninvited guests tended to piss him off. The assassination of Brad Pines, while minor in the grand scheme of things, was something that had been looming over him through the last week. Pines was a perfect piece in his collection, being able to rally both democratic and republican votes with balanced policies and speech. The lieutenant governor who is taking Pines place is less desirable, and would be near impossible to puppet. Joe Miller is an elder politician, with a wide net in family and reputation. Putting him on ice would prove high risk, since altering his long running stances in favor of Incognito¡¯s goals would raise eyebrows. That, paired with the fact that he lived in-house with both his immediate and extended family in a large mansion, meant there were too many factors to consider.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    The identity of this new player fermented in his subconscious. Who had the intel to figure out Pines was an android? Do they know Incognito was the origin of its manufacturing? How much more could they know? Would this prove to be a thorn in his side that could eventually draw blood?


    Alas, whatever was to come from this unknown, there were still enough resources on deck to move ahead with his plans. Burke leaned back in his recliner at his desk. A servant entered the office to serve him his lunch. As the plate and cover were set on his desk, the phone rang. He waved the servant away to leave the room. Burke waited for the phone to ring two or three times before answering. He clicked to answer the phone and place it on speaker.


    ¡°Talk to me,¡± he answered.


    ¡°It took longer than anticipated. Camera surveillance of the suspected vehicle that led to Pines assassination proved to be a dead end. There was also no contract within the government to have Pines taken care of. So, we know the hit didn¡¯t come from within.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ what do you have for me then?¡±


    ¡°We tracked the building that the sniper originated from. The surveillance footage was fried, but we are working on recovering some of it.¡±


    ¡°So, you don¡¯t have anything.¡±


    The voice on the other end of the line paused before speaking again. ¡°Well¡­ we do have an update on the project¡­¡±


    Burke raised his brow, ¡°Ahead of schedule?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there in the morning. Have it ready.


    ¡°Yes sir.¡±


    Burke hung up the phone. He turned around in his chair to face out to the window. As he sat in silence, he remembered the lunch that had been placed for him.


    He spun back around and faced the sealed plate. He removed the lid, revealing a shot glass of black, murky, espresso-like liquid. His index finger rubbed around the rim of the glass, before eventually lifting it up. In a single gulp, he inhaled the black murky substance and slammed the glass back down.


    ¡°Good shit,¡± he muttered to himself.