He opened the door, the room dark and stank of stale cigars. He crossed over to the table where there were plastic clippings and a half eaten burrito on a small coffee table. Someone in a bad need of a maid, or a desperate woman, whichever came first. The curtains were slightly open, just the way he liked it, to look out but not to be seen. The window on the other hand was unlocked. Not the way he left it. In an alarming rate he spun, to find a leg from the knee down.
"Hello Jace," came a raspy voice.
The sound came from a voice changing device but he knew it was a woman. He just couldn't place her. He drew his gun but knew he'd be too late if he pointed.
"What do you want?" He demand.
The raspy-voiced woman threw an envelope on the floor by his feet. Jace looked down, he immediately knew what it was. Orders to kill. Jace was an assassin.
"I'm retired." Jace sighed. He looked up but she was gone. Out the window perhaps? He didn't know, these ninja type people were very fast and just as sneaky. In and out, here and gone. Like a puff of smoke. Jace grabbed the envelope, opened it and read his orders, his last orders, or so he thought.
**
"Hurry momma!" Five year old Jace called, "The show's about to start!" Jace was running down a yellow brick path which the park had designed from Dorothy and the wizard of Oz. The path was only temporary. Two very tall men stepped into his path, blocking the sun. Jace stopped short. Something was wrong. "Momma?" Jace asked. More to himself then his mom. He heard her scream. "Run Jace! RUN!" Jace ran off the path. He didn't know where to go or what to do. He ran blindly into the wooded path in the park. His vision was blurred. He couldn't see or hear anything. His only mission was to run. Run. Run. Mission.
Mission? Jace woke. His heart was racing. He hated his dreams. They were parts of his past but they were never complete. He had to get some sort of sleep? It was already three in the morning. He had a pounding headach. He had to get something. His head was full of thoughts, worries, questions. He grabbed his cell. "Mac? I need you to look some shit up for me. Call me back." He knew Mac was asleep and that his cell would be on silent. Mac got use to Jace calling him at three in the morning just to look up a fire or a grave robbing or something of the sort. He also knew that Mac would get it done along with all the other things that Mac would be "busy" doing (porn and cheetos in the basement of his grandmother's house). Mac could multi-task and still get shit done. Jace sat down at his coffee table, another cup of coffee, another cigar, another sleepless night. The cell rang. Mac? Jace started to half smile until he saw the name. Jace moaned. He answered anyway. "What." Said Jace, rather flat. It was his first ex-wife. He listened. His oldest daughter had gotten in trouble yet again. He chuckled. He nodded. "So?" He asked. His ex wanted bond money again. "Listen bitch," Jace was now getting irritated. "She's an adult, let her make her own decisions, stop babying her." He listened, he moaned, he nodded and then he nodded off, in his folding chair, with his cigar, which dropped into his coffee, his head resting in his hand, while listening to a screaming woman on the other end of his cell. She always made him fall asleep, maybe that's why they never made it through? She gave up. Hung up. And he snored on.
