"Oi, Cee-cee, Boss is f**king p*ssed at you for last night. If I were you I'd fake your death or something; might be easier after that mother of a balls-up you made." Agent A was second man to the big boss. He had slicked back hair and glasses that turned dark in the sun, making him reminiscient of the Men in Black movies. What didn't help was the sleazy air he gave off, but he was the most genuine person you could meet. That didn't help in our line of business, being the opposite of your appearance, sometimes first impressions were all you had.
"Thanks for the encouragement Aie, you bastard. Who's to say it was me to f**ked the job? Didn't see the back-up for about...hmm, two hours after I was f**king arrested! Nice job, seeing as you're the one who deals with the back-up and sh*t!" However, Aie no longer had to do any missions that didn't involve a headset phone, a few irate cops coming in and busting his balls about some walls knocked over and civilians being curious and stupid. Ever since the accident which left him completely paralysed below the waist.
Aie leafed through a rolodex on his desk and passed me a small card with an address on. "He said you've got an appointment with him at 10:00 hours, I suggest you spend the time before then packing up your sh*t, you're going downtown and no-one's gonna miss your rotting f**king body."
"Thanks again mate, so what time is the gang gonna get to the club for?" Well, we might as well still have a drink and a luagh about this whole crock of sh*t.
" 'Bout 8-ish. If you make it I owe you a couple of drinks for this." And boy does he!
"Well it better be f**king worth it, most probably gonna lose this job, and can you see me working as a cashier or assistant something after this?" Seriously, this job has become my life, it's changed me.
"Yeah, but you don't need to work, it's just a bad habit of yours. I need to work." Also true.
"Yeah - so you better grovel big time." Because it was his fault.
Aie turns his wheelchair round so he is at the computer screen. "I'd pack now - if he doesn't want you here you'll be out in a flash, he won't give a sh*t about your stuff. It'll be burned for all we know. So see ya after you come out."
"Hopefully." I look down at my watch and see I have only 12 minutes until my 'appointment'. Oh sh*t, sh*t, sh*t... be late and risk being worse off, but at least I have my stuff? Or leave my stuff and get there in time for my b*llocking?
I soon realise I've lost three minutes and cut my losses, slinging my entire desk of belongings into my rucksack. Hoping nothing breaks in transit.
The address is just three roads down and if I run it I can easily make just in time to die.
"See ya Aie 8-ish right?"
"Yep, good luck, you'll need it!"
I slam the door and run/fall down the stairs, good thing I'm quick on my feet.
The jog to the address on the card goes past in a blur of gawped expressions and the beeping of horns from drivers that really didn't want to stop.
Most of it was just a heart thumping sickness in the pit of my stomach. I'm but a lamb to the slaughter, running at the blades.
I get to a graffiti covered metal shop front. This is it. The seperate shutters have different levels of rust and grime but all are dented and abused by the neighbourhood thugs.
"Hey pretty lady, wanna have a good time?"
"Only if your name is Garden Dancer." Geez what a crappy codeword.
"F**k off, you are one seriously weird one. Hey Joe, grab that ass and get it in the car, we're going to have fun with this one." Just what I need, youths and their petty henchmen.
The car door slides open and I can just about make out recognisable face behind one of the ski masks.
"Get the f**k in b*tch or you'll get hurt." A arm grabs me from behind and presses my thumbnail hard. I'm blindfolded and shoved in.