The Future Diary 2: Blood Of The Past

The Plan

The auburn sunrise cast seeping shadows over the city, as the bright sheen of the sun gazed down on a new day. It was cold, and the air was filled with the smells of the day coming alive. People meandered about, and in the projects, the air smelled of the smoke of the dying bonfires of the night before.

    Dan walked down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, bracing his body against the wind. He wore a pair of sleek aviators, although it was far too early in the morning to need them. Behind him walked a man wearing a black t-shirt, with a FFC Security logo printed on the front.

    "Why do you always get the cool jobs," the man pestered Dan. "I'm a freelancer, too, why can't I land these big contracts?"

    "Because you're shit at your job, Trevor, nothing more to it."

    "Hey, fuck you, I worked hard to get this job," Trevor snapped back.

    Dan eyed the balding man. "Work is an illusion. It doesn't matter how hard you worked to get somewhere, it only matters when you get on the job."

    "Why are we out here in this fucking slum anyways?" Trevor commented as he stepped on a crumpled McDonalds bag.

    "I've been inside and out of this city for twenty years, I know people who can help us."

    They walked towards a brick building, its facade covered in vines and the windows shrouded out in iron bars. "You're a fucking hypocrite, dude."

    "Excuse me?"

    "You're a freelance contractor for the number one private security organization in the country, and you're outsourcing to some fucking bum from the projects. Work only matters on the job my ass."

    "I'll just take that comment as an insult to your intelligence," Dan replied. "If you would think with your head you would know the right way to get the job done."

    "I'm a fucking soldier, I don't need to think," Trevor said. "I manage a team of mercenaries, and I do a damn good job of telling them to point and shoot."

    They came to a sulking tree, where Dan leaned up against it, crossing his arms. Trevor lit a cigarette, and Dan held his breath as the smoke curled up into the air.

    The morning passed on, and Trevor burned through more cigarettes. Dan grew impatient, but just as the sun had hid behind the leaves of the tree, a small child ran up to him and pulled on his coat.

    He eyed the boy, then shot a quick nod to Trevor. They walked up the steps to a house, following the kid as he held the door open. The inside reeked of marijuana and beer, and the wallpaper was yellowing and peeling from the smoke. None of the lights were on, except for the back kitchen light, which Dan went to.

"Aiphram!" a man at the table called. "How've you been, you sly motherfucker?"

"It's good to see you Andy," Dan replied. "How's your wife?"

Andy shrugged. "Holding up as usual. She's out to the store right now. Should be back."
"How soon?"

"We've got enough time," Andy replied, speaking in a heavy Spanish accent. He motioned to his son to leave the room, then picked up a blunt and took a hit.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Trevor asked.

"What the fuck does it look like pendejo? Of course you can, you fat shit."

Trevor started for him, but Dan stuck out his hand. "I'll make this quick because there's not much to it."

"What do you need, Daniel?" Andy said, drawing out his name.

"I got a contract, and I need your help."

Andy smiled. "So Mr. Government is in need of my assistance, yet again? Fuck you, go home."

"This is a different kind of contract," Dan said. "It's off the grid. I'm getting one hundred grand, and fifteen of it is yours if you help out," he lied.

"Keep talking," Andy said.

"I'll pay you upfront," Dan said, pulling out a wad of cash. He dropped it on the table. "That's five, just to be in the right place at the right time. You get the other ten when the job is done."

Andy grabbed the roll and thumbed through it. "What am I doing exactly?"

"Armed robbery."

Andy wheezed, then he laughed. "You're paying me to rob somebody? Puta, are you out of your mind?"

"I'll text you the details," Dan said, and he grabbed Trevor by the arm and dragged him out of the house.

"Bro, are you fucking retarded?" Trevor asked. "You just payed that scumbag five grand, and he's probably not even gonna show up. That's your money, dude."

Dan kicked a can on the side of the street as he walked. "I could care less about the money. I'm not in it for that."

Trevor glared at him. "The fuck are you doing it for, then?"

    Dan basked at the sun, his aviators reflecting the glare. "I'm doing it for my identity."