“Are you sure I’m supposed to be doing this?” The look on Martin’s face was dubious and conflicted. Priceless. It was all Reid could do not to cackle at his own genius.
Reid plastered a reassuring look on his face. “Yeah. Trust me.” He winked.
He saw the moment Martin’s face came to resolve, his furrowed brow melting into a confiding look. “Alright, Emerson.” He smiled shyly and proceeded to unlock the heavy, iron door with his badge for Reid to enter. Reid hardly left time for himself to thank Martin before he slammed the door in the unsuspecting face of his no-longer-colleague, smirking to himself as he saw a flicker of doubt across Martin’s face right before it was obscured by the door. Unfortunately, he knew Martin well enough to know that the coward wouldn’t come after him.
It was okay. Though it would have been just as easy to steal the badge off his lanyard, this was the fun way — it would likely result in the innocent man getting punished or fired. However, Martin’s presence would not be missed. Martin was hated in a passive-aggressive way by everyone, not just Reid: there was just something about his posh way of speaking, peevish friendliness, or neat, tall composure that put everyone on edge. So really, Reid was doing everyone a favor by ridding this place of Martin. There was no regret in Reid’s decision anywhere. If he was going to do this job, he’d enjoy it as much as he could.
Reid Emerson was what it said on his badge, sleek and clean, well-earned from months of building a false identity. A fresh new haircut, hair gel, a cheap suit, and a suppressed personality were all that had been needed for Reid Emerson to be born. He’d been accepted instantly into the program, and from there he’d only needed to slowly inch his way to the top, a simple enough task. Now, after all of that, it was the day he’d been waiting for, what he’d built up to. Today was the day when he wouldn’t have to be Reid Emerson anymore; he could just be Reid. Countless hours of mind-numbing work and listening to Martin ramble on would pay off, he knew with certainty. Today was the day.
Reid slowly shifted his position closer to the walls, where he knew the surveillance cameras would have a harder time detecting him. He pressed his shoulder hard against the right wall, still walking efficiently, when he heard voices. Reid hardly stiffened as he placed the key, metal warm from his palm, into the inner pocket of his jacket, tilting his head upright and swinging his arms inconspicuously from side to side. The image of confidence.
“Emerson!!” A grin and a hand up to acknowledge him from some friendly colleagues. Reid offered a subtle smile, sliding his dark eyes ahead as they passed behind him, voices loud and mildly rowdy. His smile faded as he gripped the key in his hand again so that the rough edges of it dug into the patched skin of his palm. Little did they know that the Reid they knew was gone, and the true Reid was here: complacent, cocky, and willing to make any sacrifice.
The rest of the journey was easier. He made sure the loud clicking of his heels was unheard, and did his best to blend into his surroundings when he heard anyone nearby. Yes, people looked at him strangely, but they didn’t look at him twice. It was a Friday, so he supposed everyone was much too distracted to care about the one little guy who wasn’t in the right place. It worked nicely in his favor. Reid smirked.
“Almost there,” he murmured to himself, recalling the instructions they had given him in his mind. He reached into a pocket and squinted at the words scrawled across the paper. My, he needed glasses — nothing the prize money couldn’t fix.
Open the door. Press the button.
It was a bit odd; usually, they gave him overly specific instructions for fear of a mess-up, which, of course, never happened. Reid shrugged mentally, crushing the paper between his fingertips. It was fine. He never messed up anyway. Really, it didn’t matter how specific or vague the instructions were.
The door came into view, similar to the one Reid had forced Martin to open earlier: heavy-looking, gray, thick. Reid ran his fingers across the surface, savoring the moment that would make him rich, and placed the key into the small keyhole.
It opened inwards with a satisfying click.
Reid shut it behind him and inhaled, smelling the must and mold, the apparent and abrupt silence settling into him.
The room was small and tidy. Bits of technology dotted the room, blending in and making it appear as one of the other ordinary offices. Reid knew better.
He crouched down under a gray desk and peered at the ground. Next to an air vent that didn’t blow out air was an equally gray button, small, round, sticking out just barely out of the floor. Ominous, important-looking. Intriguing, maybe even frightening.
For the first time in ages, Reid hesitated. Sure, he’d done jobs before, and sure, they hadn’t paid this much, and sure, they hadn’t ever been this vague. He squeezed his fingers together, fidgeting. What would this button do? He could only imagine.
He flashed back to those times he had to trip that one person, crash that car, or plant something in that lady’s purse. He hadn’t hesitated then, even when he’d known and seen what would happen. Why was he hesitating now?
What would happen? He rocked back and sat with his knees against his chest, frowning. Do I want to do this? He wasn’t sure.
What if . . .
Reid exhaled slowly, blowing bits of hair out of his face.
What if . . .
He reached out a shaking arm and pressed the button. It clicked.
What --
His vision went dark.
Reid plastered a reassuring look on his face. “Yeah. Trust me.” He winked.
He saw the moment Martin’s face came to resolve, his furrowed brow melting into a confiding look. “Alright, Emerson.” He smiled shyly and proceeded to unlock the heavy, iron door with his badge for Reid to enter. Reid hardly left time for himself to thank Martin before he slammed the door in the unsuspecting face of his no-longer-colleague, smirking to himself as he saw a flicker of doubt across Martin’s face right before it was obscured by the door. Unfortunately, he knew Martin well enough to know that the coward wouldn’t come after him.
It was okay. Though it would have been just as easy to steal the badge off his lanyard, this was the fun way — it would likely result in the innocent man getting punished or fired. However, Martin’s presence would not be missed. Martin was hated in a passive-aggressive way by everyone, not just Reid: there was just something about his posh way of speaking, peevish friendliness, or neat, tall composure that put everyone on edge. So really, Reid was doing everyone a favor by ridding this place of Martin. There was no regret in Reid’s decision anywhere. If he was going to do this job, he’d enjoy it as much as he could.
Reid Emerson was what it said on his badge, sleek and clean, well-earned from months of building a false identity. A fresh new haircut, hair gel, a cheap suit, and a suppressed personality were all that had been needed for Reid Emerson to be born. He’d been accepted instantly into the program, and from there he’d only needed to slowly inch his way to the top, a simple enough task. Now, after all of that, it was the day he’d been waiting for, what he’d built up to. Today was the day when he wouldn’t have to be Reid Emerson anymore; he could just be Reid. Countless hours of mind-numbing work and listening to Martin ramble on would pay off, he knew with certainty. Today was the day.
Reid slowly shifted his position closer to the walls, where he knew the surveillance cameras would have a harder time detecting him. He pressed his shoulder hard against the right wall, still walking efficiently, when he heard voices. Reid hardly stiffened as he placed the key, metal warm from his palm, into the inner pocket of his jacket, tilting his head upright and swinging his arms inconspicuously from side to side. The image of confidence.
“Emerson!!” A grin and a hand up to acknowledge him from some friendly colleagues. Reid offered a subtle smile, sliding his dark eyes ahead as they passed behind him, voices loud and mildly rowdy. His smile faded as he gripped the key in his hand again so that the rough edges of it dug into the patched skin of his palm. Little did they know that the Reid they knew was gone, and the true Reid was here: complacent, cocky, and willing to make any sacrifice.
The rest of the journey was easier. He made sure the loud clicking of his heels was unheard, and did his best to blend into his surroundings when he heard anyone nearby. Yes, people looked at him strangely, but they didn’t look at him twice. It was a Friday, so he supposed everyone was much too distracted to care about the one little guy who wasn’t in the right place. It worked nicely in his favor. Reid smirked.
“Almost there,” he murmured to himself, recalling the instructions they had given him in his mind. He reached into a pocket and squinted at the words scrawled across the paper. My, he needed glasses — nothing the prize money couldn’t fix.
Open the door. Press the button.
It was a bit odd; usually, they gave him overly specific instructions for fear of a mess-up, which, of course, never happened. Reid shrugged mentally, crushing the paper between his fingertips. It was fine. He never messed up anyway. Really, it didn’t matter how specific or vague the instructions were.
The door came into view, similar to the one Reid had forced Martin to open earlier: heavy-looking, gray, thick. Reid ran his fingers across the surface, savoring the moment that would make him rich, and placed the key into the small keyhole.
It opened inwards with a satisfying click.
Reid shut it behind him and inhaled, smelling the must and mold, the apparent and abrupt silence settling into him.
The room was small and tidy. Bits of technology dotted the room, blending in and making it appear as one of the other ordinary offices. Reid knew better.
He crouched down under a gray desk and peered at the ground. Next to an air vent that didn’t blow out air was an equally gray button, small, round, sticking out just barely out of the floor. Ominous, important-looking. Intriguing, maybe even frightening.
For the first time in ages, Reid hesitated. Sure, he’d done jobs before, and sure, they hadn’t paid this much, and sure, they hadn’t ever been this vague. He squeezed his fingers together, fidgeting. What would this button do? He could only imagine.
He flashed back to those times he had to trip that one person, crash that car, or plant something in that lady’s purse. He hadn’t hesitated then, even when he’d known and seen what would happen. Why was he hesitating now?
What would happen? He rocked back and sat with his knees against his chest, frowning. Do I want to do this? He wasn’t sure.
What if . . .
Reid exhaled slowly, blowing bits of hair out of his face.
What if . . .
He reached out a shaking arm and pressed the button. It clicked.
What --
His vision went dark.