Reworking things.

I decided I'd left out some details from the first part of chapter one.

So, I expanded a little.

Enjoy.

Chapter One

“The sonuvabitch shot AT me!”

The entire compound could hear her screaming. We could also hear the sound of glass breaking. Mr. Lemieux wouldn’t be very happy about that. I kept my head down, trying my best to ignore the cacophony of noise coming from the next room over.

“Just keep typing, Klip.” I told myself, “Just keep typing.” The pile of files I needed to transcribe kept getting taller, until they began to teeter on precariously in my inbox. Such is the life of a glorified secretary. While I put the finishing touches on the current file I was digitalizing, the fight exploded into my part of the office.

“Fayth, sweetheart, if I had known you were in any danger…” Mr. Lemieux, always the sweet talker.

“Bullshit! You sent me with a gun, which I almost got SHOT WITH.” Ms. Condry, in stellar form today, interrupted him before his velvet words had a chance to work. All I had to do was keep typing, eye contact would be a fatal mistake. Then it happened, my eyes strayed from the screen and caught Fayth’s. “Why couldn’t you’ve sent her?!”

Shit. I wasn’t invisible anymore. Well, no use pretending now, I pulled my computer lenses from my face, and gave them both a flat look.

“Mr. Lemieux wanted Ryan Lambert alive; I would’ve shot him, in the face.” This was uncharacteristic, really. If you wanted someone disabled, but mostly alive and well; you sent me. If you wanted them dead, then you’d send Kenneth. And if you’d rather have someone fuck it all up… that’s when you’d send Fayth.

Fayth was her own special brand of person. She was a box of crazy wrapped up into a leggy redhead. She was also the only person I knew who still had her job, even though she never actually did it properly. It wasn’t fair for me to compare hers to mine; however, the only person who had a higher success percentage was Kenneth. That was mostly because he was the shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy; I didn’t even own a gun.