The Chip

The crisp night air blew in through the window as he typed. He shivered and got up to close it. Once, twice, three times he tried to close it, but it was wedged shut. On the fourth try he got it down, and he pulled the curtains over it, casting the room into darkness. It was lit only by the glow of the computer that he could find his way back. He sat down in the chair, the joints in his young bones creaking like an old man's. He was rather handsom, with his wirey brown hair, clear gray eyes, and pale skin. He was, however, deemed a "Computer Nerd" by most. His pale skin came from hours spent indoors, staring into his computer screen.
        His name was Pyralis Martin, a computer programer. His eyes had grown dull from his job, and now he needed a pair of giant, square-rimmed glasses. Although he made good money from that same job, most was spent for upgrades, downloads, and new equipment. Consequently, he was now broke, which was why he now had taken on a new client, one paying $20 million euros. It was a dangerous job, one requiring endless hours of coding, secrecy, and thousands of dollars in paraphernalia. With only a few more code to write, Pyralis was almost done. He sighed, stretched, and cracked his knuckles, getting ready to finish the programing.
Knock Knock Knock
        Pyralis minimized the program on his desktop and opened the door.
"Ye-" He was silenced by the barrell of a gun pointed straight at the middle of his forehhead. The person holding it was dressed all in black.
        The gun was a Smith & Wesson model 1911 full size 38 super Semi-Automatic pistol with a two-tone finish and adjustable sights. It was a beautiful gun, with a name carved into the side in beautiful caligraphy, detailed with intricate lines swirling into each other.
"Finish it." He said, gesturing with his well-tooled gun at the computer. Pyralis opened it back up, sat down, an pushed his glasses back up his nose, gulping. "Hurry." The man said, pulling the hammer back. Pyralis typed quickly, adding some extra typing in with the rest, hoping the perpatrator wouldn't notice. After writing the final code, he turned to the man and gulped.
"D-done." He pushed his glasses up his nose again.
"Good." He tightened his finger on the triger, and Pyralis fell back on the ground, dead to all but God. The person calmly stepped over the crummpled heap that once was Pyralis Martin and ejected the disc from Pyralis's computer. Pulling off his hood, Siyamak Jahangir examined the disk for a few minutes, then popped it into a case, and slipped it in his pocket. Smiling his odd smile, he bent down to the corpse at his feet and pulled out a knife. It was his favorite knife, long, serrated, and black He then picked up what had been Pyralis's hand, and in a few smooth, quick strokes, he slit the hand with intricate lines, just as was on his gun and knife. Laying the hand back down, he got up, ran to the window, and jumped over the mantle into the midnight sky.

The End

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