jeffwritescrap

[jeffwritescrap]

The thoughtful assassin.

Sitting comfortably across her laptop in nothing but a comfy crop top. She decided to watch some Netflix. Turning on her TV, she put on her favourite show and sat there lazily scrolling her phone. It was at this exact moment, that she saw an important notification pop-up appear on her bar. As she slowly opened the ominous notification, she rolled her eyes at the content:

Hi, I am John Doe. I’ve been commissioned by xxxx to take your life. Usually, I don’t take interest in my targets, but following you around has led me to believe that keeping you alive is more valuable as my code. Do not contact the authorities, as that could force my hand in doing something I’ve decided against. My client is a persistent man, so please, don’t reply to this message as it could reveal this secure channel to his informants. For your safety, take out a sum of cash and meet me at a disclosed location, which I will send you. Considering my client, I doubt you’d be safe by yourself, so don’t go out after midnight. Take my warning seriously and wait for my next transmission. Best regards.

John Doe

The girl read the text with somewhat of a humorous tone, after all, such scan messages were commonplace here. ‘Which dumbass would actually pay to get me killed? I'm just some random dumbass, not some fancy royalty worth killing, and hell I can get myself killed perfectly fine.’ she thought as she read through it one more time. Deciding to entertain herself, she texted back. “Get rekt, bitch. No way I’m falling for your shitty scam.” Making the draft, she decided to add a little spice as well, ‘xoxoxo’. Satisfied at her work, she pressed send. After not getting a reply for 2 minutes, she gave up and yeeted her phone off to her bed. ‘Guess he gave up!’ she said with a shrug, as she returned her focus to the show playing on her TV.

Opening her eyes, she looked around, in a groggy manner only befitting a haggard drunkard. She spent a solid minute fetching the remote as the light from the TV invaded her eyes. As she turned the TV off, she sat up to get some food from the supermarket by the street before noticing her state of undress beneath the waist. Giving up on putting on any other top, she washed her face on the sink and dragged herself to her bedroom. After dressing up, she slowly picked up a credit card and walked downstairs.

Slowly opening the apartment yard's main entrance, she noticed the most horrid smell she could imagine, “Fuck, shouda brought a mask if I knew it would be this bloody disgusting outside.” She said, as she slowly walked down the street. Looking around, she noticed how empty the street was. ‘Huh, real weird today, isn’t it?’ while the girl was walking towards the shop, the light above her heed suddenly gave out. Before reappearing the next moment.

The city street was empty, no sign of any activity. A few moments later, a short scream could be heard, as a body hit the floor after jumping from the rooftop. There were 2 shoes resting by the rooftop ledge, a note written in perfect matching handwriting laying by its side. One side was half burnt, there was a tear mark on it. It wrote a story of regret, of despair. Of a girl struggling with life away from her rural home across the countryside. It would become the example of a century, a girl who committed suicide due to the wrongdoings of society.

As the people started gathering; a man clad in white cleaner suit approached the trash can. Pulling out the huge body bag, he opened the zip to reveal a burnt corpse. “Which dumbass burns a corpse in the city.” He muttered to himself, “I have to feed him to the hounds, he might have as well ruined the entire operation.” He tsked a few more times before speaking to the dead body. “John, you were a great subordinate, damn I’m gonna miss your dumbass, aren’t I?” he said, genuine sorrow in his voice.

Just then, he noticed a small file sitting by the can, “I could almost tolerate the burning, but this dude is seriously sloppy, I tell ya.” He looked over the file. It was their client submission file. “I wondered where that went. So, you took it.” he considered the burnt corpse. Before reading it to himself once.

[Emily Hailey, the raised daughter of Karl and Penelope Hailey. Adopted by process of accidental finding and raised as the family’s own. Real identity recently found: heir to the great Santiago Maria estate fortune, estimated at around 24.5 billion dollars. Commission fee, 25 million for a natural death. No foul play suspected.]

‘You had to screw me over on such a project. Eh, couldn’t say I’m surprised.’ The old cleaner said to himself. As he put the body bag on a little rollie and walked through the homeless bridge. As he passed by, he said his hellos to some denizens of the messy community. Finding one with a small fire, he offered his file as kindling, the men sitting around him thanked him for his kindness. As he moved towards the forge, he has a body to get rid of. Whistling with joy, he pulled the rollie along and sang to himself a happy song, tomorrow was going to be a great payday!

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