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Do Your Job-a short story by Ashlea |
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(paragraphing dosent want to work so just ignore it!)
Life wasn’t easy being a spy/hitman. For one, no one could know about your secret life; not even your mother. Then there was the matter of sometimes you were hired to spy on, or even kill, someone you knew or were close with. You had to do your job… or you became the victim. And the most important rule of all; don’t get personally involved.
Tom Sherman, under the current alias of Jerry Smith, was one of the best spies there had been. Enemy to the government for being wanted for the deaths of three high government officials. Although, Tom, being a good a spy as he was, had not yet been caught.
Each of Tom’s ‘characters’ had their own unique personalities, aspirations, wealth, and style; each with a different occupation and background history. Tom’s current character profile:
Name: Smith, Jerry Cameron.
Age: 27
Occupation:Unemployed.
History: Father, Jeffrey Smith, died when Jerry was 8years of age. Mother, Caroline Masden, forced Jerry to live on the streets at the age of 16. Only child. Childhood pet, Xander(dog), Jerry’s only companion.
Hobbies: Much like Tom, Jerry enjoyed the company of prostitutes, usually nightly. Jerry finds joy in model making and watching R rated movies.
It was twelve minutes past midnight, just as Tom had lit up a cigarette, that he was paged by ‘The Boss’ to come to the office. The office, or their headquarters, was located underneath an abandoned railway station, in the most run-down part of town.
As Tom was walking to the Station, he was appalled and disgusted at the sight of a homeless man eating out of a garbage bin. Tom HATED those who could not provide for themselves. It was an insult to life and everything it stood for. Why couldn’t these people just stop being lazy and find themselves a job. They complain that it is just to hard and they can handle living on the streets; but they’re just lazy, they are pathetic.
Reaching the steps that lead down to the station, Tom checked his surroundings to establish whether he was being followed or not. The outside environment didn’t change. Tom walked down the stairs to the platform and on to the track, which then he followed for a distance before removing a torch from his pocket and turning it on, then descending while crouching down a sharply declining clay passage.
The passage flattened and opened out into a labyrinth of other tunnels. To anyone not familiar with the maze, they could easily get lost in as little as three turns. Tom had to have the directions planted firmly into his head or he could just as easily get lost in here and probably rot to death before finding his way out.
It took Tom forty minutes to find the entrance, which appeared to be a dead end. The door, made of stone to blend in with the surrounding walls, was made to open with voice recognition.
Tom slapped a precise section of the wall, which made it slide away with a click. A screen and camera were made viewable; the purpose, so that anyone inside could see who, or what, was outside and to inform you to speak. A metallic voice rang through his ears.
“State your name” the voice said. Tom cleared his throat to speak cleanly.
“Tom Sherman.”
“Vocals recognised. Enter.” The door slowly slid open, causing the dust that had settled on the ground to stir. Tom stepped in with an exasperated sigh. Just another days job. Tom turned the torch on and slipped it back into his pocket. The door slid silently shut behind him.
The doorway led into a hallway which was strangely and unfamiliarly metallic and ‘man made’ after travelling through the complex labyrinth of clay and dirt and stone. The hallway had several doors evenly spaced down each side, but Tom had only been in two of these; the boss’s office and the ‘cool down room’. Finding the door he wanted, Tom knocked on the door, announcing himself.
“Come in.” came the boss’s heavy voiced reply.
Tom opened the door wearily and entered. The office wasn’t what you would expect of a spy/hitman boss’s office. It was a very large room, not very decorative, but very comfortable. Lounges lined two walls of the room with bookshelves behind them.
The boss was sitting at his desk, behind a computer, with a cloud of cigar smoke above his head. Tom sunk onto one of the lounges without saying a word to the boss, knowing better than to speak to him before you were spoken to. The boss kept Tom waiting for a further twenty minutes before looking up from his computer and addressing Tom.
“You have your next assignment” said the boss, with empty emotion.
“What have you got for me today?”
“A triple, it needs it to look like a set up.”
“A triple? Three adults? When do you need it done by? And what is the reason?”
“Not so many questions at once, Tom. But yes, a triple. No, one adult and two kids. You have four days… and don’t you worry about what they did. You just do your job.” The boss answered. That was the final word. You don’t question the boss.
*
As tom was walking back to his apartment, he revised the orders The Boss had given him.
Make it look like the mother killed her children in a murderous rage then put a gun to her own head and killed herself. Tom was visualising his wondrous work as he drifted off to sleep.
So it began.
Late the next night, under the cover of darkness, Tom followed the directions the boss had given him to the woman’s house and found his luck had just risen. Her house was located on the outskirts of town, in a densely forested area. The outskirts were good as they did not attract attention, and the forest was good as a sound and sight barrier. The only other building near her house appeared to be an old forest cabin. Around two hundred and fifty metres from her; that was good and bad. Good as in he could watch her and not be seen. And bad as in he could be discovered before his mission was complete.
Over the next two days, Tom, accompanied by his rifle and scope, watched and studied the trio’s behaviour through a slit in the wooden log walls. He discovered that the mother was a pretty young woman; blonde hair, outstanding figure, the kind Tom would go for if it wasn’t a job. The children, a girl and boy, approximately two years old and five years old shared a room right next to the mothers. The mother, being to overconfident they were hidden in the woods, kept her own, and the children’s blinds open, perfect for Tom.
Having access to high tech equipment and resources, Tom used a remote radio to tap into her phone line. He would hear every call She made, and every call that was made to her. Watching her, Tom discovered that she worked during the daytime, and the kids didn’t go to school, but were looked after by a babysitter every day. Listening to her calls to the babysitter, Tom discovered that the lady, apparently named Linda, thought the prices the babysitter charged were to high for her salary, but she would pay them because she couldn’t find anyone else to sit for her. Tom had an idea.
The next day, Tom, with make up and face putty on to disguise his appearance, stalked up to Linda’s door. Dressed in his finest, to look reliable, had a hidden gun, a pair of gloves and a sheathed knife strapped to his leg.
Ringing the doorbell, Tom rehearsed over in his head what he was going to say while attempting to put on a convincing smile.
Tom was startled when Linda opened the door, at how much better looking she was close up, almost familiar. He almost forgot his duty. Almost.
“Good morning ma’am, my daughter and I are new to this district and would like to offer our services to you.” Tom said with a smile.
“What exactly are your ‘services’?” Linda asked with a worried look on her face.
“Oh, sorry for not being clear, we do babysitting! For the cheapest prices you will find. Ever! Now I do babysitting to, its not just teenagers you know, I just love kids.” Tom replied, feeling the fool. A smile erupting on her face.
“That’s great! I don’t care how much you charge, it can’t be any more than that other worthless girl charges. Look, I know it might be a bit much to ask, but can you work right now? I have to go to work and the other babysitter isn’t here yet.”
“That’s not to much at all, I would be delighted.” Tom smiled again.
“I’ll ring the girl and cancel with her. Oh, and what is your name?”
“Its Jerry, Jerry Smith.”
Shortly after Linda showed him to the sleeping kids and went off to work, he began. Tom knew that she would be home at 5 o’clock, meaning he didn’t have to rush things. But it’s better to get it over and done with.
How would a mother kill her kids? How would Tom kill her kids? He decided quick and easy. Smother the oldest so he can not call the police. Then shoot the youngest…why not? Life was brutal.
After putting his gloves on, Tom casually walked into the kids’ room, picked up a stray pillow from the floor and walked over to the largest sleeping figure and forced the pillow over his face. It took the child a few seconds to register he couldn’t breathe. Once the child was aware of the attack he started to fight back. Tom applied more pressure to the pillow. After a few minutes the body was limp and lifeless. The two year old was still sound asleep in the crib next to her brothers bed. Tom slid his gun and out from the bottom of his pants, loaded it and shot the sleeping baby once in the head.
Life was brutal. Do your job
Over the next few hours, the stench of the child’s blood was starting to annoy Tom, when the door came open and in came Linda, at 5 o’clock sharp Tom was already on alert. Tom aimed the gun at her and she dropped her keys.
“Don’t move!” Tom yelled. He walked over to her quivering body and held the gun to her temple. The opened her mouth and was about to say something as Tom loosed a bullet through her brain. Her lifeless body sagged to the floor.
Tom leaned down and placed the gun in her hand, then walked out the door.
Life was brutal. Do your job
Do your job
ninja ninja
 xannykins · Tue Dec 30, 2008 @ 05:53am · 1 Comments |
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