Sitting down at his desk the next morning, he glanced down at the folder in the top of his waste paper basket. The note had been taunting him all night. After Karen had been taken from him, he had lost control of his life - he'd had no direction, little purpose. The note had whispered into his ear all night ‘this is your chance to regain that control and sense of purpose, Tony. Take it. When's a chance like this going to drop itself into your lap again, hmm?'
It proved to be a hard voice to ignore.
Instead of sitting down to get on with mentally preparing himself for the monotony of his job, he found himself fantasizing about what it might feel like to kill someone. His imagination both scared and exhilarated him.
He felt a projected rush of adrenaline and the sense of control it might bring back to his life. His eyes drifted back down to the folder. Pushing his plate of now-cold toast aside, he took the folder from the bin and opened it, biting down on his lower lip slightly.
Thoughts started racing through his mind; should he let anyone else know? Should he have someone at work check it out? Was he on a similar list? How would he get to these people?
How would he even kill them? He wasn't trained in any kind of firearms or weaponry. He had no experience of that kind at all. He was a desk drone, the paperwork guy.
Most of the questions seemed to answer themselves. He wouldn't let anyone else know or check up on it. It was a strong possibility that he was indeed on other lists - lists that were probably in the hands of the people he was supposed to kill.
One question remained, however. How would he find them all?
That truly was a puzzling thought. His desire to regain control of himself and his life was so stifling, that he found himself even beginning to ignore the fact that there were real lives and real people at stake here. If he was on a list too, he reasoned, he couldn't just sit back and wait for someone to kill him for whatever it was this game might be promising them.
He pushed a hand through his thinning hair and let out a shaky breath.
He was going to do it. He had to, he felt, as a matter of survival if nothing else.
The only thing left was to find these people and learn how to kill them. They were what stood between him and Karen, and being in charge of his life. If that was what it was going to take, then... "So be it," he muttered to himself.