Consulting Sniper (Moran's Story)

Chapter 14: They're All Insane

I remember the first day that I worked for Jim legitimately like it was yesterday.

Of course, legitimately is a bit relative. Obviously, our business was not legitimate. But I'd signed a contract with Jim a few weeks after the Christmas Eve murder, and I was finally allowed to delve more into my actual position.

Before, I'm not even sure I knew what I was supposed to be doing. But after I signed that contract, it became obvious to me.

I was a contract killer. Plain and simple. I feel like that doesn't even require a further explanation. Just thinking about it now makes me wince a little bit.

But at the time, it would be just a job. I'd be an actress, playing the part of a psychopathic murderer in front of my equally psychopathic murderer boss, Jim Moriarty.

I'd be exactly what he wanted me to be. A killer without emotions, without regret, without reason except what my boss told me to be true.

His word was greater than law.

Jim drove me over to his headquarters one morning. It was located in an old, abandoned office building located on the shore of the Thames near Tower Bridge.

If you've read Mycroft's story, this setting description should sound a bit familiar to you.

When I first walked in, it was with Jim. I had my old military regulation rifle slung across my back with bullets in my backpack. He showed me to a room that was virtually empty save for a few guns laying around.

"If you ever feel you want some target practice, here's some guns, and the other guys have painted some targets on the wall for you to shoot at," Jim said, pointing to the opposite wall which had painted on it five white target circles with blue rings inside of them and red centers.

"Thanks, Jim. Should I stay here for a bit and practice?"

"I'd like to watch you shoot, if you don't mind," Jim said to me.

Crap, I thought. How in the actual fuck does he think I'm going to be able to focus?!

"Sure, wait one second," I said out loud much to my surprise, beginning to load my gun. Jim watched my every move, my every action, likely trying to throw me off since he probably knew he was distracting me anyway.

I was ready. I stood at the line painted across the room that marked where I should shoot from and held up my rifle. My hands began to shake when I saw Jim in my peripherals.

Holy hell, just get it OVER WITH! I said to myself, commanding my hands to steady themselves and finally holding the gun straight. He is nothing to you. He's just Jim, I thought to myself as I fired off a bullet at the center of the target.

I hit it. I fired off ten more rounds, making a smiley face on the target.

I stood back from the line, seemingly in a trance. Jim watched me as I crossed over the line then and walked up to the target, twirling my gun in my right hand. When I reached the wall, I ran my hand over each of the bullet holes.

Jim started theatrically clapping and whistling as I laughed hysterically. "Bra-vo, Tiger! You'll do very well on my team!" Jim said, before walking out.

I stayed behind, taking up some of the other guns and trying to shoot with them. I did a fairly good job, considering I'd never seen such well-made weapons before in my life.

I must've stood there for thirty minutes, testing the waters before I suddenly held a gun up to shoot, and heard a voice by the door. I turned around, gun ready to fire, but seeing it was Jim again, I stood down again.