Fearless

2. It'll Be Fun

"Hunt down and murder that girl, she said. It'll be fun, she said."
Ryan stepped off the private jet, looking around before shrinking into himself and quickly rolling a single black suitcase behind him. His mom had pull, sure, she was a millionaire ceo, but no amount of blackmail could get Ryan Waters to ride in a public airplane just to puke on a child again.
He'd never been more embarrassed in his life.
He hated to use the jet, but he preferred it over spending hours next to a fuming parent and a crying kid complaining about the rancid smell of vomit wafting off of the both of them.
He made his way to the parking garage, finding a shiny, sleek, black car waiting for him, his favorite model, with a note that said Waters tucked under the windshield wiper.
He smiled, wondering who was in charge of getting him that car, and how they remembered what he liked. He took out the keys, got in, and started it, letting the low hum of the engine starting calm his nerves.
Everything was always prepared for him when he'd do these, down to the very last detail, but usually, no one helped him out in person. And that was just the way he wanted it.
He'd rather feel the cool leather of the wheel under his hands than watch the streets blur together from the backseat.
He typed the address into his phone and it started spewing directions. A British woman's voice cut through the air, and he chuckled at it.
It reminded him of Marilyn, his best and only friend back in New York. They were from England, and as hard as they tried, they could never get rid of that accent. They should be in... calculus right about now?
He wondered how she was doing on that test they had today.
Yeah, he went to school. A money-hungry private school with snakes instead of people and gold plated desks, but he couldn't really talk about snakes when he'd been an assassin since before he learned to drive.
He mentally scolded himself.
Don't think about it. Don't feel it.
You don't know them.
That's how he got through them, the missions. The orders. The files. Reading someone's story for the sole purpose of ending it. Traveling between states, sometimes countries, on a killing order. Often befriending someone. Pulling a trigger. Coming back to school a week later and telling your friend you were taking company leadership classes in California, to prepare for inheriting the business. Closing a person's book and throwing it in the garbage.
If he was a book, his pages would be stained with blood.
A few lives he never knew of were worth those that mattered to him.
Those lives are plastic. They're not real, not to him. Yet every time he tosses a bottle, it makes his little lake that much more polluted.
Disturbing and fucked up? Absolutely.
But the trigger called to him like human nature, no matter how inhumane.
He pulled up into the driveway of a nice, yet small apartment complex. He always requested something minimal. He wasn't one for the fancy houses.
Ryan walked into the office, politely asking the office lady for his key, smiling wide. Despite being a little bit of a loner, he was pretty good with people. Well, more like he knew a lot about how people worked. They were easy to understand, like a puzzle with six huge pieces.
Despite him being an emo boy through and through, he tended to have a carefree and charismatic nature, so it was fairly easy to charm the lady at the desk.
He briefly checked the profile on his phone as soon as he got inside, skipping over most of the lines.
Elk-wood Park, the one by the school, was only about 5 minutes away, and school should have ended 10 minutes ago. The files say she goes there every day for about an hour or two.
He could just do it now, never have to go to that new school, and get about a week of vacation before going back home.
It was tempting.