Caliber

Retiring Sucks

Two Voices, One Dark Room… no, they’re not making love, you perverted fool.

“Subject 05483289; Code: Noir continues to run.” The first man let out a breath, his head leaning on his right forehand, and threw numerous folders across the table. His glasses let out an awry shimmer as he shifted his position.

“Indeed… it’s been such a tedious game of Hide and Seek, Josef.” The second man responded with a frown, hidden perfectly because of several Botox injections. A champagne glass was left untouched on the table before him.

Suddenly, the large maple doors opened.

Swift clicking by the heels of a woman’s silhouette echoed throughout the room. It was followed by the silent ticks of a man’s figure that was in resemblance to a Biggest Loser contestant.

Ehm, alright; man who was slightly “weight-challenged”—but not morbidly obese (?)

“Elena” both men by the table stood with the swift movement of opening door: a gesture that implied surprise. But their expressions showed that the entrance wasn’t anything close to unexpected.

Elena scoffed. “Josef? Claude? Really now, what is it with both of you and theatrical dim lighting? This ambiance certainly isn’t a treat…” she said with her elegant English accent. Then, she motioned one of the guards by the side to brighten the room. At the snap of her finger, all lights were turned on. “…especially when the Director is here.”

Elena moved aside, dramatically giving emphasis to the presence of the man behind her, the Director. Amidst the sudden tremor his presence always seemed to bring, Elena’s face remained gaunt: her chin up, her posture straight.

After the brief moment of genuine shock, the two gentlemen by the table regained their composure; the Director never needed words to imply superiority and control—his strong steps and rock-hard expression was enough to make any saint or devil tremble.

The Director addressed both of the men with a nod before positioning himself on the chair at the head of the table. “Sit.” Elena said as she looked through their profiles.

“Josef Archer and… Claude… Gaylord”

Josef glanced at his long-time partner--as in assigned mission partner and not the life-time husband type of partner as he habitually reminded everyone they’ve been introduced to----only hearing his family name for the first time. Claude shrugged “It is French”. His expression showed no hint of lies. Archer nodded, for the first time noticing the slight accent of his associate.

“You are dismissed from this assignment” Elena continued.

Archer and Gaylord were shocked once more.

Elena laughed; a laugh that was somehow alluring and sadistic at the same time. “Oh please, just think of this as a sort of retirement.”

Josef cleared his throat. “Excuse me… might I inquire, and as I do I do not question your authority and the power of this order, who they are?”

Elena smirked. “The Bastogne twins. Gentlemen, I present to you Demitri and Donovan Bastogne.”

As if on cue, two raven-haired youths entered behind them.

And put two bullets straight through the retirees’ heads.