I awoke just before dawn. I washed off and put on my clothes. Tied my boots and put on my knife. I had hundreds but always seemed to use the same one every day. I guess the rest were for collecting and this one was my work knife.

I don’t like to be called a murderer or killer, what I do is business. And I get paid so that makes me a professional, as long as we are being strict adherers to the rules. You do a job and get paid that makes you a professional.

Once I belonged to a team of mercenaries. We operated good together until Wheeler broke his leg and he was sidelined and then Hernandez was shot and died from infection. That’s when we split up, I guess a team of five becoming a team of three just didn’t suit everyone’s taste. I was cool with it, there is plenty of work for me.

I joined the Agency after that. They did all the work; they got the clients and handed the work down to their collection of mercenaries. It was like a dating site, pick your choice and watch us bring them down. And all I had to do was make the kill and take a picture showing the deceased. Then I got paid. I didn’t ask questions or need an explanation why they needed killing, but they did include that information, I usually didn’t read it. It was easier that way.

Tonight’s journey will take me to the famed Marthas Vineyard to a house owned by the Dubois family. My target is Reginald Dubois. His company wants him eliminated to move into the future, seems Mr. Dubois is stuck in the past and refuses to move into the new century. Cant really blame him, the future sort of sucks. Too much personal information and too many cameras all the damn time. Believe me the worst thing a mercenary can be caught on is a camera. And everyone has them with them all the damn time.

But Dubois doesn’t have cameras in his house and if he just happens to fall down the steps it would be just a sad accident. I am paid to dispatch him anyway I see fit and the way I have devised is putting a trip wire on the stair case and luring him down stairs. He will fall down the stairs and break his neck, that I am sure of. A well placed foot on the neck can take care of it if the fall doesn’t work. But I feel a certain way about dispatching a man who is rejecting technology and relying on humans to do the work of robots. A man who doesn’t want to cut his staff in half and move his company to China where the work can be done faster, cheaper, and shittier. I think he is in the right. And it perplexes me to no end that I could be killing a man who is in the right and how his death will just add to the companies that ship their work to China. I believe in America and keeping jobs here. How inconsistent with my beliefs.

But a job is a job and I have to look out for number one. That’s me if you didn’t get that. I have a daughter and an ex-wife to make happy. They like my money. And the only way I get paid is to spill a little blood. I don’t see it as murder, I see it as cleaning up. I’m a cleaner of sorts. Although I don’t clean up after my kills, if that is needed, I call a real cleaner. A chap by the name Rodriguez who comes in and cleans every fiber on every surface. He makes the place nice and he disposes of the bodies. He told me one time that he waits for a funeral and before they put the casket in he dumps the body underneath the casket and covers it with dirt so nobody knows the wiser. I think its pure genius and so does he. In order to explore the grave they have to get a court order to exhume a grave.

But I rarely need a cleaner, that’s why I am as highly rated on the hiring chart. My name  stays at the top, I’m the merc with a conscious.  I try to make the deaths look as natural as I can. A little shot of a drug that induces a heart attack, tripping on a staircase, accidentally plugging in the frayed wires of a hair dryer. All ways to kill a man without chopping him up. But there are times when you need to get bloody and that when you call in Rodriguez. I hate those times; it brings out the animal in me.

But what I really hate is when I have to kill someone that I know is doing the right thing and the wrong people don’t like it. Its not unusual to have the CEO of a company demand the owner be taken care of, by any means necessary. Its not unusual for a board of directors to vote on the disappearance of their CEO. Companie are ruthless. And they pay my bills.

I arrived at Mr. Dubois home at 1030pm EST. The lights were all off except the kitchen, there was a single light illuminating the kitchen and it must mean Mr. Dubois makes it a habit of coming down the stairs at night. I knew his schedule and knew that he had trouble sleeping. I would see little lights from outside his house late at night and sometimes I saw his fireplace burning in the wee hours.

I entered the house and got right to work. I wired up the trip wire on the steps and made it tight. I took to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich and just wait for him to come down the stairs and then when I had proof he was dead I would leave. But I had to have proof, it was the rules. I had to send a photo to my employer who dealt with the CEO of the company. They never dealt directly with me, that’s the way you get caught. I work for an agency that hires out mercs to do their jobs for them. That way they keep the circle small and untraceable. Their guarantee to me that I wont get caught or go down for the murder.

I have been in prison once, for five years. It was when my wife and I were still together and we had our baby out in public. A man came running by and hit our stroller and knocked it over with the baby still in it, while my wife tended to our daughter I chased the man down and beat him to a pulp. I really messed him up bad. I got five years for assault and battery and he got away with nothing but the satisfaction of seeing me loaded up with the other criminals. He came to visit me the week before I was to be released.

He told me how sorry he was for knocking over the stroller and he had time to reflect. He said I didn’t deserve jail time and that he was truly sorry. That’s one reason he is still alive to this day. I couldn’t kill a man who sent me to jail once he had truly came to me and apologized. I spared him a gruesome death.

But back to my sandwich, Mr. Dubois had a great selection of meats and I made one hell of a sandwich, I sat down at his table and ate my meal. I waited to hear him stirring up stairs but nothing. I had a choice, to lure him down stairs or to just kill him in his sleep. That’s why I said I don’t make concrete plans because things like this happened.

I waited an hour and cleaned up my plate and the utensils and put them back in their spots. I cleaned the kitchen to make sure I didn’t leave any DNA.

I walked into the giant den with the fireplace and found a fire burning in it. It wasn’t there when I got to the house. I walked farther in and could see Mr. Dubois sitting in a large chair in front of the fire.

“I found your trip wire. Great way to make a man fall down the stairs. But I was a sergeant in the Army during Vietnam and I have never stopped looking for trip wires. One of those things you just never fall out of habit doing. You’re here to kill me aren’t you?” He said from his chair.

I pulled up the other chair and began to talk to the man.

“Yes, I am here to see that you don’t wake up tomorrow morning. Nothing personal, only business.”

“Well you are going to have try something different. Maybe shot me or stab me with that big knife you have on you.”

“Aren’t you going to ask why you have to die?” I asked.

“I already know. I want to keep my plant in the US and avoid using Chinas forced labor to create my creations. I believe in American labor and thousands would lose their jobs. I cant have that on my watch. It isn’t what I want.”

“I respect that. And I wish it could be different but I have a job to do. I’m sorry about it if that makes a difference.”

“It does, a merc with a conscious. That’s rare in your business isn’t it?” He asked as he enjoyed a glass of brandy.

“We all feel certain ways. I believe in your stance; I don’t want American jobs going to China but its what your company wants and since you refuse to change your mind they want me to dispose of you.”

“And how does that sit with you?” He asked.

“It doesn’t, as I said, I’m just here to do a job. And it would have been so much easier if you had just fallen down the steps.” I answered.

“Are you a republican or a democrat?” He asked.

“Neither I just don’t vote, my vote doesn’t matter anyway, what does one vote count in this country when we have the Electoral Votes. I just don’t waste my time with voting or politics.” I said.

“Me, I’m a democrat and my company is run by a bunch of republicans. They don’t like my stance on many things, I’m just surprised it was the move to China that would finally piss them off enough to kill me.” He said as he lit a cigar and smoked it and drank his brandy.

“Look, I appreciate your circumstances but if I leave you here alive I can lose my job. There is no reasoning this one out. I have to kill you.” I said as he finished his cigar and tossed it in the fireplace. He reached beside his chair and pulled a revolver out from the side table. I grabbed my gun and was ready for a shoot-out, this was not going good.

“I tell you what, I shoot myself and you don’t have to do it. It will be a suicide and all of this will be over.” He said as he held the gun under his chin.

“No use in that sir, I poisoned your brandy when I came in. I’ve been watching you for weeks and I know that you always come down stairs and smoke a cigar and drink your brandy. When I first got here I poured a vial of poison that will be undetectable, it will seem like you just had a heart attack and died. I thought of everything, except your gun. Now put that weapon down and accept your fate. I can sit with you until the end.”

“Would you, I can feel the poison starting to take effect and I don’t want to die alone.” He said.

“What is your favorite memory?” I asked politely. I couldn’t just sit there and I felt compassion for this man. This has never happened before. I have never had to speak to a mark before and it was incredibly uncomfortable.

“I don’t mind. I am sorry it has come to this. I don’t normally have conversations with the person I am hired to kill, but what is your favorite memory, just think on that.”

“It was my dog, Sasha. She was a husky that was by my side until she died last year. She was the best dog ever. My kids only want my money and the house. Sasha just wanted rubs and love. She was the reason I stayed alive so long.”

“That’s a good memory, now hold onto it. Don’t let it out of your mind and slowly you will fall asleep. I am truly sorry.” I said as I watched him clenching his chest.

A few minutes of pain and he was dead. I poured out the remainder of the brandy in the sink and washed it down. I took down the trip wire and put away the revolver.

I pulled a blanket over him and closed his eyes and left.

The entire ride back home I was spent. I had never had to do that before and it made me question everything. I got my money that night after I sent a picture of the corpse to the agency. I was a quarter of a million richer and Mr. Dubois went to his death thinking about his dog.  I questioned everything that night but the next morning I was clear and thinking straight.

What I do isn’t for everyone, I know this. Not everyone can kill someone and wake up craving McDonalds. It takes a special breed of person to do that. I killed my share in the wars in the middle east for oil. So what is the difference in killing for money? Nothing. I was ready for the next case and I swore I would never have that conversation again.

The next case was easy. I was charged with a target that was slime. And killing slime is easy, there are no what ifs or maybes. I was to wait on the building across from the apartments where Mr. Slime lived and wait for him to go out to the fire stoop and smoke a cigarette. That part was easy.

I climbed to the top of the roof and aimed my sniper rifle at Mr. Slimes apartment and waited for him to smoke.

A lot went through my mind while I was waiting, which was strange for me. I was normally fixed on my target and only thought of hitting the mark. But Mr. Dubois had taken up a space in my mind and I replayed our last conversation together. I thought of his dog and how much joy it must have brought him to be his favorite memory. Maybe my daughter would like a dog? But I needed to keep my head in the game.

At 1105 pm EST, Mr. Slime climbed out the window and sat on the fire stoop and lit a cigarette. I took aim and focused on his chest. One bullet to the heart. That was my orders. I waited until he was almost through with his cigarette (at least I could give him that joy) then I took aim at his heart and pulled the trigger. A small pop sounded from my rifles silencer and the bullet hit him dead center. He just sat down and leaned on the stoops railing. He was dead. I took my picture of him hanging there and sent it to the Agency. By the next morning I had another quarter million in my bank account.

That week I went out looking for a dog for my daughter. I found one at a shelter, a husky that needed lots of love. He had been in the shelter for almost a year because he didn’t get along with other dogs. That wouldn’t be a problem, my daughter had no pets.

I filled out all the forms and adopted the dog and took it to my ex-wife’s house and surprised my daughter. The ex-wife wasn’t super excited about it but I paid her rent along with her new car. She knew what I did for a living, and she never complained. Why would she? She had free rent and a free car and I paid for my daughters food and clothes. She started to say something and I reminded her how easy she had it and that a dog would be good for my daughter.

I left after an hour of visitation and went back home to watch a movie and grab a beer. My phone went off and it was another victim. I was given two weeks to complete the mission and send in photos.

I began surveillance that night. What else did I have to do?

I’ve killed hundreds and never does a single one crossed my mind but Mr. Dubois, that was the one I wished I didn’t have to kill. But I feel like I made up for it with giving my daughter a dog. Maybe that will be her favorite memory.

The End