Ring Of Writers
A Better Place.

by: Byzanthium
              Jena woke up ill that morrow. Still there was work to be done and sick days
          were not an option. She needed every penny she could get, and since this great 
          break just happen to fall into her hands she wasn't about to just blow it off. 
          The work was dangerous but hell, it was a dangerous world out there. Peter used
          to say that all the time. "Big brother Peter", she sighed. He and his forma 
          training, and the recognitions and the "special" bonuses and this and that. He
          had been properly trained afterall. Not like her. He had the luxury of being 
          trained to target before he could walk. While she was taking some bullshit 
          courses to improve her marketing skills, or in other words to become far more 
          proficient at telling straight lies into the face of a stranger, he was being 
          sugared with the newest scopes and kissing ass with everyone who got paid real
          She never forgot the day of the funeral. It was far too sunny and cheerfull.
              She didn't go. 
              She remembered how a gun felt when she held one for the first time.
          A sweet sixteenth birthday present; quite sweet indeed. It was a piece of shit
          but when you are sixteen and such a studnic as Peter gives you something it is
          the absolute. It took her almost 2 years to get over her crush and 2 months to
          get over his passing. It was like she knew he was in a better place. 
             Anyplace else was a better place.
          She went to the St. Mary's chapel on corner of Walton and 39th and lit a candle. 
          Then she went directly to Peters box and emptied it. Less then an hour later 
          they came to retrieve the equipment. When that door burst open and the neatly
          dressed "PR" folks filed in, she was ready for them.
              Just like Peter showed her, "Look at them, see the bullet hitting... pull 
          the trigger and look again; if you are not looking at a new face you are 
          looking at St.Peter." And just like that they went down. The room was silent for
          a while, then a man walked in followed by the heavy stench of money. He wasn't
          afraid like the others, so she didn't fire. He mentioned the Cordon & Gully 
          corporation and the new acquisitions there in. Dugas-baby, as he was ever so
          affectionately called by the men, was a mean,spiteful and completely lovable
          fruit. He wasn't part of the standard security, and the job he offered was not
          a standard wipe out and clear out. It was fun.

              It was Wednesday and it was her last day before the shift rotation. Every
          6 months the placebo workers were rotated to keep them fresh. The gray suit 
          made her look more placid then usual. She checked herself in the  Ladies before
          sitting down for the dreaded hours of the morning shift. 
          She dialed in and took a deep breath. 
             "Hello there ma'am, how would you like to find out more about..."

*      *       *       *     *     *      *

              It was almost one thirty when she had had enough. After some jackass send
          her reeling through some foreign network for a good hour and twenty minutes, 
          she needed a smoke. She scuffed at the huge No Smoking sign and hit the stairs.
          She hated the way the heels of her shoes banged loudly against the cement and
          the way her gun dug into the middle of her back. She checked the lower level 
          of the garage before pulling out a clove and blissfully drowning her frustrations
          in a daydream.
              At one point she though she saw a man approaching. Thank god it was the last
          day of this place, anywhere else would be better.

*           *           *        *          *

          "Man, that was a waste..."  Hines spat over his shoulder.
          "What? You knew her?" Degutis looked up from gathering the spilled clove 
          "Yeah, " Hines looked back, " her brother got me this job."

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