You office series# 1
"I love her so much, It physically pains me to imagine a life without her, I feel like I won't survive a single second, without her. I feel I am drowning and only she could save me, But here I am, drowning without her, and she'...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Growing up, I never liked violence.
Despised it.
My mother always says I am an empathetic person. Who understands others pain and wishes everyone in the world would resolve their issues by talking.
But few things don't resolve just by talking.
I look up from the windshield of my car, the old rusty warehouse which looked on the brink of collapsing. From the right corner of it I could spot a door leading the basement.
"According to the inside source," Ali's voice carries through the Bluetooth system. "He is down in the basement. He has two companions with him."
"And which one is your source?"
"The short guy." He pauses. "He is of no use, you could finish him first."
"Sure, thanks Ali."
"Sir."
I close my eyes briefly. "I am not a kid Ali."
"I was not saying that." He sighs. "Break his bones so loud that those pigeons you see on the cable in front of you?"
I look at the lines of zig zagged electric wires across the road where a line of birds sat peacefully. "Yeah?"
"They should fly away from the impact."
I suppress a chuckle. "Be ready with the after care."
"Sure."
I hang up the call and draw the hood of my hoodie over my head and get out of the car.
After nearly searching the whole city down with Ali to get that devil's address, I am finally here.
Reaching upto the warehouse door, I knock on it and the door opens revealing a short guy who looked he lived off snorting cheap lines.
"What do you want?"
I clench my fist under my pockets. "What's going around the streets now?"
He smile's crookedly. "Strong stuff and expensive too."
"I have the money." I tilt my head. "Lead me to the dealer."
He nods and opens the door wider, letting me in.
There are a set of narrow stairs leading down to the basement.
As I descent down the spiral stairs, I became aware of the recording mic on my t-shirt under my hoodie.
When the guy leads me towards a seating area, he points at a group of men playing cards on a rusty table with a small tv at a distance from them which had a football match showing up on it.
I eye the glasses with amber liquid on the table and lines of white powder which was being snorted by the man who was my target.
