Continue

from Vengeance

Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? You decide that now you are kind of stuck with it. With an effort, you keep a straight face. “I'm going out tonight to finish them off. You can either help me, or get out of my way.”

Jeff frowns. “What?”

“Jeff, you heard me. Tonight, I'm going, for real. And I'm going to finally avenge my father's death.” You say, surprising yourself with the quality of your own acting.

Your boss looks surprised by it as well. “Very well. But I'm still going to help you. You should go home and get some rest before your mission. You're a good employee Danny, and I want to help you out.”

With some fake gravity to it, you nod quietly. You pick up your coat, stuff your cell phone into your pocket and begin to leave. However, Jeff calls out to you.

“Danny, I'm going to call you later tonight to find out how I can help. If you don't answer, I'm going to assume that this is all some scheme to lie to me and get out of work, okay?”

You pretend to be offended. “Jeff, why the hell would I lie about this?” And before he can warn you again, you are out the door, into the elevator, and on your way home.

Half an hour later, you find yourself stumbling back into your apartment door. The place is a mess, and your roommate is splayed out on the couch. She's been unemployed for a while now, and the baggie of weed laying in front of her probably is not helping her remedy that any.

“Hey! Danny! Do you want to drive me to get some Wendy's? I'm fucking starving.” She says, rising into a sitting position now that you're home.

“No, I'm exhausted, I'm going to take a nap.” You mutter, stepping over a smashed lawn chair that has inexplicably found its way into the living room. When Jen gets high, which is almost always the case, she likes to wander off and come back with useless souvenirs of her trips. This was probably one of them.

You shove open the door to your room, and ease it shut, engaging the lock quickly. Your bedroom is a mess, your mom would probably have a small aneurism if she saw it. But the concerns of your mother, who acts like she's trapped in the 1950's, aren't your problem right now. You stayed up all night, practically, for the last two days. With that in mind, you flop face down into the pillow, and fall into a deep, deep sleep. You haven't even bothered to take off your shoes, or even your leather jacket.

At some point, your peaceful slumber is interrupted by some heavy metal music. Your mind simply cannot fathom this sound for a few seconds, until you realize that it is your phone. Painfully, your eyes open. Your glasses are laying next to you, apparently you fell asleep with them on again and they fell off. You grab them, and awkwardly put them on your face while reaching for the phone.

The screen shows a picture of a Summer's Eve douche, and the text below simply reads “Jeff”. It was your boss calling.

“Hello?” You ask groggily.

“Hi Danielle, it's Jeff. What's the details for tonight?” He asks, sounding enthusiastic.

Shit. You said you'd do something tonight, didn't you? Your exhausted brain shakes itself vigorously, hoping that an idea or a clever idea will fall out. Then it hits you. “Jeff,...” you begin.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in">What do you say?


 * <p style="margin-bottom:0in">To give him a fake meet up point in the bad part of town, go to MEET (14)
 * <p style="margin-bottom:0in">To go tell him he isn't invited, go to CANCEL (15)