Alec Satchwell is a 24-year-old hitman's associate with a life that couldn't be less exciting. Until one day his life takes a drastic turn when God himself tasks Alec with a mission to kill fourteen other targets in order to inherit God's title. Wha...
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THE CLOCK TICKS to three minutes past five in the morning. These recent late hours are killing him. Sluggishly, Alec reverses up into one of the many empty parking spaces at the petrol station. He can barely keep his eyes open long enough to realise he reversed too far and bumped the two back tyres up the curb. He can't be bothered fixing it up, so he puts the car in park anyway.
Work didn't finish until four-thirty. His brain is running on close to 5% battery power. Maybe even less. It's not often he can physically feel the exhaustion dragging down his face.
The drive home won't be for another half hour, so he figured the best way to keep his energy up was to get himself a nice steaming hot cup of noodles from the gas station.
Hopping out of the car, he drags himself over inside the station's convenience store. Inside, several aisles stretch on, its shelves stacked with overpriced junk foods and energy drinks. A coffee machine on the far corner of the store catches his attention for a brief minute and he's tempted. Until he realises he's already downed seven shots in the past few hours. An eighth would probably be pushing his limit.
"Long day at work?" The store clerk smiles at him once he arrives at the counter with a sealed cup of beef noodles. She's a girl about his age, with fair skin and chestnut-honey hair tied back into a messy ponytail. Her voice was oddly chirpy, a rather adequate contrast to her heavy and tiresome-seeming eyes.
Alec can barely force an awkward chuckle. His respect for service station attendants have suddenly gone up — how they can work all night and stay awake yet still have the energy to be cheery is beyond his understanding. His gaze remains unmoving from the wallet in his hands he's ruffling through. Finally, he fishes out $2.40 and slides it onto the countertop.
"How'd you guess?" The words come out as a bleak mumble.
"No one ever comes in at this time just to buy cup noodles." He can hear a smirk in her voice. "Night shift jobs are the worst, huh?"
It's nice how she assumes he works a night shift job. If only she knew he illegally works overtime in an illegal organisation.
"Yeah. The worst." He can't think of how to carry on the conversation, not that he's complaining. Strangers starting up conversations were one of the many things that put him unnecessarily on the spot. Out of all the scenarios that could possibly happen at a gas station convenience store, it was definitely one of the worse ones, possibly alongside being arrested for his crimes.
Most of his social awkwardness comes from the paranoia of letting his real identity slip, but maybe it's also because he's never really had many friends throughout his life to socialise with anyway. Regardless, social anxiety comes naturally to a guy like Alec.
But the girl doesn't pick that up, apparently. She must have been longing for human interaction all night. As she tears open the cup and pours in a kettle of boiling water, she goes on to ramble like it's the last time she'll ever have her voice.
