Bus Stop

At the bus stop. Overnight trip. Eyes feel like open scabs. Terminal is empty. Bus is late.

Hear a rustling. A woman pops out from behind the bench. Her face is grimy, covered in flakes of dirt. Her clothes look like they’ve been rubbed against sandpaper. Threads stick out by the seams. She’s got three layers on, yet she’s still shaking from the cold. The woman asks for my phone. She says she hasn’t talked to her daughter in years. That she needs to talk to her. She wants to see her. Without thinking, I give it to her. I look down, because I don’t want to intrude upon her conversation. She ducks back behind the bench. I hear sobbing, pleading. Last time I heard someone cry was during my grandmother’s funeral last year. I hid back then too. I put my headphones on, but don’t play any music. I clasp my hands and wait for her wails to stop.

I look up, and she’s in front of me. Her eyes are red, like mine. But they’re a deeper crimson, as if her blood is thicker. She places the phone in my hand wordlessly. Her nails are black from wear. I grab my phone and the tips of her fingers for a fleeting moment. When our hands touch, my spine shivers and I inhale. She pulls her hand back, but leaves it floating inches from my hand. She locks her eyes on my hands. Glances up and whispers, “Thank you”.  I don’t respond.

I close my eyes. I hear her shuffle back behind the bench. Press play on my IPod. Wait until the song finishes. I lean over the bench to see if she’s sleeping. She’s gone. I sit back down and rub my fingertips. Check my phone’s outgoing calls. See the number that she called. I don’t recognize the area code. I press dial on the phone.

“This number is not in service…”

Twiddle

She twiddles her thumbs. Right thumb is winning the wrestling match. Usher sings through her speakers. She mostly listens to his older albums. He had soul back then. Now, he has David Guetta. Today’s Thursday, Friday’s shadow. It’s 9PM, time for the elderly and worn youth to sleep. But she can’t.

Her left thumb dodges a jab. It circles around, but the right thumb relentlessly attacks. One feint later, and the left has locked the other thumb in a vice-grip hold. 3,2,1 we have a pin! She thinks about the word hold. How it’s a half step from old. How it can mean grab, or to wait, or to want. Her hands lay flat, nestled together. She’s holding out hope for a handhold. Something to steady her and make her feel safe. She’s holding out hope for a letter from Hogwarts. Holding out hope for a call from an old friend.

She tussles her hair, trying to get out of this daze. A few hairs fall out. Used to shedding. Notices a white hair on her dark pajamas. Quick inhale. Remembers petting a white cat outside of the apartment. The hair is from the cat. It has to be. 

My Past

As a teenager, I specialized in high profile assassinations. Started off small, my parents introduced me to the "blood world". However, I made a name for myself for my reliability and secrecy. I worked my way up the totem pole and eventually I was entrusted with hits including high ranking political and business officials.

How does one go about hiring an assassin? Most commonly, people go through organized crime, usually through the Russian or Chinese mafia networks. The skill level of the assassin corresponds to your hypothetical payment. Most people can only afford a hired brute with a muzzled gun. For more delicate hits (i.e. someone within the crime network), a higher payment is necessary. You can expect someone called a cleaner, who specializes in false suicides and accidents. For higher profile targets, you would have to go through an independent contractor. Contractors are affiliated with certain banks in many major cities. You need to identify who has possible connections to crime, and pay your way for more information. Eventually, you will reach a consultant who will provide further instructions.

Here's what the consultant would tell you. You need to set up a TOR encryption network and access the darknet. Ensure there are several layers of proxy servers. The web browser shifts periodically overtime; it corresponds to a specific numerical pattern, which I cannot divulge. Once you access the website, you will see an screenshot of a commonly visited page, such as Google or Ebay. Your screen will freeze, and you will get a virus alert. Do not panic. Your cursor may be frozen, however you can still manipulate it. Check the source code of the website, and access the archives. Here, you can see the image file and its specifics. Your consultant will have provided another series of numbers. These numbers indicate which pixels on the image file to click on. This is how you get to the real website. Set up a down payment through an offshore bank account. Then upload the necessary information on your target. The contractor would take it from there. Because privacy is of upmost importance, never expect a face to face meeting.

As for how I actually performed my task, I specialized in poisonings. My handle was Viper, and I used synthetic neurotoxin compounds, undetectable through an autopsy. I hired an trustworthy research firm to manufacture my poisons, using a triple blind order system. (multiple aliases, false addresses, and hired couriers). Depending on the risk of the job, planning could last from a couple days to six months. You would be provided a vague timeline, no specifics in case you were working for the target as a scout for potential threats. From there, it was simple. The poisons were water-soluble, so a simple contamination of a bottle of water or a snack would do the job. I had various cover stories, but usually I would act as an escort who would chicken out last minute or a harmless maid. A young and innocent face can get a person pretty far. I retired from the business after my parents botched a job. That compromised my identity and I had to relocate.

I chose to join the work force, because it's easier. I have significant savings, but I would be bored if I rested on my laurels. But my story begs the question - why am I telling you all this? Because you should know that I inserted a skin absorbent, slow acting poison onto a surface in your office, and I have the only antidote. If you even think about telling anyone, I will disappear, and you will die within a week. Therefore, you should offer me the job and we will never discuss this again.