Brontide

Chris watched out of the corner of his eye as Rae fumbled with the orders of angry customers, cringing everytime she spilled a little. He looked away just as he she glanced at him, pretending to be completely interested in what the flirty girl in front of him had to say. She kept going on and on about medical school, and how wonderful she was at everything. It was almost closing time, and he just wanted everyone to leave.

He looked over to Rae again, who looked confused about different kinds of beer she was looking at. Annoyed, he cut off the girl mid-sentence, slightly stunning her. He slipped behind Rae and reached over her shoulder, filling the glass himself and putting it in her hand.

"Look alive," he muttered.

"I'm tired," she glared at him, "Sorry that I can't be as fan-fucking-tastic as you are."

The rude comment made him smile a bit, not knowing that the girl had it in her. She set the glass down in front of the customer, picking up a rag and cleaning up the spill she had made on the counter. Chris looked at the clock, starting to hint for people to leave. He wanted nothing more at that point that to go home and sleep, which was something that he hadn't done in days due to extra training during the day.

Soon, the bar was empty except for the girl and himself. She sat down in a huff, putting her head in her hands. Chris leaned against the bar, taking a look at his phone.

One New Message

The number was blocked but he grimaced anyway, knowing exactly who it was.

Call in sick tomorrow night. You have a job. You know who to call.

He deleted the message and shoved the phone back in his pocket, biting his lip. He knew that if he messed this up, it would ruin his life. In fact, he would become a target.

"You okay?"

Chris looked down at the girl, who had a concerned expression.

"I'm fine," he shrugged, "Long night."

She nodded, frowning and waving away large black fly that was buzzing around her face. The fly started buzzing around his face too, but he just wasn't feeling patient. With one swift arm motion, he yanked a knife out of the drawer and slammed it on the counter, skewering the fly into the wood. Rae jumped, her eyes widening at what she witnessed.

"H-how? What? How did you do that?" she pointed to the dead fly and Chris casually pulled out the knife and scraped the corpse onto the floor.

"Luck," he lied, tossing the knife in the sink.

He turned out the lights of the bar, gesturing towards the door. Rae hurried out, waiting outside for him to finish locking up. He took out his car keys, and looked at her again, feeling guilty since she was shivering and didn't seem to have a car.

"Do you want a ride home?" he asked before thinking.

"I have stuff here," she shuddered.

"It'll be here tomorrow."

She looked towards the sports car behind him, hesitating before pulling her jacket tighter and nodding. Chris sat in the drivers seat, holding back a smirk as she tried getting in the nice car without getting it scratched or smudged. She looked around the interior in wonder, running her fingers over the buttons. She jumped slightly when he turned on the engine and drove away, clutching the sides of the seats as she directed him towards her home. Chris sped a little more than he usually did, amused by her reaction. He arrived there in half the time it would've taken any other car, and laughed out loud when he saw the poor girl's shaking hands. He unlocked the doors and let her out.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow, I guess," she awkwardly mumbled, still recovering.

"Probably not," the smile fell off his face, remembering the phone call he was supposed to make, "I'm feeling under the weather."

"What? You have to come tomorrow! What am I going to do alone?" she panicked.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, "You've got Alex."

She began to say something, but quickly shut her mouth. Chris felt a pair of eyes watching from one of the windows, and assumed it was someone who knew her.

"Night," he smiled back at her for the first time, revving the engine so she would jump back away from the car.

He drove off before she could respond, leaving Rae alone in the dark. He pushed a button on the steering wheel, and a robotic female voice came from the speakers.

Good evening. Command?

"Call the organization," he spoke loudly and clearly, so the voice command would understand him. The phone began to ring, and a man picked up on the other end.

"You sent me a text."

"I did. You read it. We are keeping a close eye on you, and we've got a warm up to last you until tomorrow," the man spoke in a monotone, serious voice, "You'll like this one, Christopher. You can finish it before you even get home. There is a man by the name of Albert Sanders. Sad, sad fellow. He's only got enemies. One of them wants him dead. Make it look like an accident. He will be the silver sedan on Dodson Avenue in approximately two and a half minutes."

The phone hung up, leaving Chris thinking about the mission. He swerved right into the road that would take him to Dodson Avenue. Sure enough, there was a middle-aged man in a white sedan driving down the road. There were no witnesses out, only making his job easier.

"They think I'm twelve years old," he rolled his eyes, following closely behind the sedan, waiting for an opening in between the two cars.

As soon as he got his chance, he swerved around the car at breakneck speed, making Albert Sanders panick and also begin to swerve. With one last jerk of the wheel, Chris sent the man swerving into a fatal crash into a large tree. Without a single scratch on his own car, Chris casually drove home with a smug grin on his face.

"Morons don't even know how to drive."