"Do you normally make-out with the people you're hired to kill? It doesn't strike me as very professional."
"Put the gun down," Gabriel panted, not answering her.
"Why on earth would I do that?"
"Because you're not going to shoot me," Gabriel rep...
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Three years ago
"I'm sorry Mr. Martinez. You seem beyond qualified, but we are afraid we just can't hire you."
"I understand," Gabriel replied, hanging up the phone. It wasn't even close to the first rejection he had heard. It certainly wouldn't be the last.
"Good news mijo?" his mother asked, optimistic.
"No mama. Lo siento."
His mother gave him a warm smile. "I'm sure you'll find something Gabriel. Dios proveerá."
Gabriel wasn't sure of it at all. He had no marketable skills beyond shooting people, and with a dishonorable discharge on his record, not only didn't he qualify for veterans' assistance programs, most employers wouldn't give him a second look.
With his father's recent cancer diagnosis and the bills starting to stack up, Gabriel was overwhelmed. His father and mother were both working, but the doctor had warned that Luis would likely have to stop working when he started chemo. And now they had a deadweight son who was only draining their resources.
"I'm going for a walk," he told his mother as he headed outside.
Gabriel walked to the nearest park, which was only a couple blocks away. It was autumn, which was usually his favorite time of year. But this year, the reds and oranges of the tree leaves only made him think of fire – how his life had gone up in flames. He sat down on a park bench and watched as moms passed with strollers, kids played in leaf piles, people walked their dogs. He closed his eyes, wishing for something, anything, that would tell him what to do next.
"Another failed job application, huh?" a middle-aged man asked sitting down next to him.
Gabriel turned to look at the man, surprised. He searched the man's face for something familiar, but the blue eyes, bald head, tan skin...he didn't recognize anything.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Gabriel asked.
"No. But I know you Gabriel Martinez. We've been watching you for awhile."
"If this is some kind of joke –" Gabriel began, threateningly.
"No, no Mr. Martinez. We don't joke. Sorry for maybe coming off a bit strong. I work for a company that is interested in recruiting you."
Gabriel shook his head. "You don't want me. I –"
"Graduated from the Marine Corps with honors. In particular, you were the top scorer in your class for running, the obstacle courses, and shooting. Served with the Marines for four years. Then of course there's the pesky matter of your dishonorable discharge. Don't worry Gabriel. That's not a problem for us."
Gabriel looked at the man, dumbfounded. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"Derek Ross. Your new boss. If you want me to be, that is."
