Roman glanced down again at the photo of the man. It felt odd, calling him a man. His face was round, his eyes big and vividly green. A black fedora hat with two white stripes on one side framed his pale blond hair. And his smile! The toothy grin was the picture of boyhood.
Regardless, his bio stated clearly that he was 21 years old, born on July 16th. Roman all of a sudden felt oddly guilty for knowing something like his birthday when they had never met. He pushed the strange feeling from his mind and he focused again on his mission:
Kill Jackie Ellis.
He remembered his client's words clearly as he climbed into his black Audi. "I don't care if you make it look like an accident or what. I just want the fucker dead," the man had said. Requests like this were common in such a big city. A lot of people means that some of them are going to be wanted dead. It was his job, and the job of people like him, to take care of that.
He'd actually never met another hitman before. He doubted he would. He'd been in the business a good few years or so. He knew almost every face in his part of the city. Roman laughed to himself. He'd be surprised if he met another person with the same profession.
He laughed more as he pulled out of the driveway of his apartment complex. His destination was a fast-food joint a few miles away. He'd driven by it on occasion, but never gone inside. He wasn't a fast-food joint person.
In fact, he wouldn't be going inside. He parked in an inconspicuous spot between a pickup and a beat-up Mazda, thankful that this restaurant was one of the few in the urban jungle that actually had a parking lot.
Roman checked his watch. 6: 58. His target would be off his shift in two minutes. He could wait. He leaned back and looked around at the rest of the parking lot. It was pretty crowded, even for a Saturday evening. He craned his neck to get a better view of the door. He didn't want to miss Jackie.
As he watched solitary people, couples, and the occasional family enter or exit the building, Roman began to whistle a tune casually, killing time. He knew he was basically stalking Jackie, and part of him felt guilty. He grew irritated. He'd done this so many times! Why did it feel so... wrong now? He sighed and checked his watch, rather than the five-minutes-fast clock on the dashboard. 7:02.
Roman was about to refocus on the front door when he saw a figure move in the corner of his eye. He swiveled his head, looking at the back of the building. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.
He saw Jackie exit the building from the relatively concealed back door. His odd appearance puzzled Roman. Jackie wore the hat from the picture, along with a... suit. He was wearing a suit. Complete with a red and green striped tie and dress shoes. Roman would've laughed, if not for the crutches Jackie used and the cast that encased his lower right leg. Roman couldn't help but wonder how he'd gotten the injury.
He waited for Jackie to get into a car, but to Roman's surprise, he kept hobbling onto the sidewalk.
"Here we go," he muttered to himself as he pulled out of the parking lot and began to discreetly follow his target.
Roman concluded that Jackie must've lived near the restaurant, but in the next twenty minutes, he passed two apartment buildings, and he began to doubt himself. Then, the strangest idea popped into his head. He tried to push it away, but it persisted. He made the mistake of looking at Jackie's cast, and all bets were off.
"Shit," he muttered, and he pulled up next to where Jackie was walking.
"Hey," he called, blowing his cover, and only half regretting it. Jackie turned and looked at him. God, those eyes! Roman couldn't help but stare.
"Yeah?" he answered. His voice was sort of quiet, and not very deep.
Roman swallowed the knot that had lodged in his throat. "Where ya headed?"
Jackie's head tilted slightly, as if choosing his next words carefully. "It's... it's not too far away. I don't need a ride, thanks." he turned his head away a little too quickly.
Roman eyed him curiously. He had a feeling he was being lied to.
"You know," he began. "You're not a good liar." It was a stretch, but at that point Roman didn't care. He felt strange, like he absolutely needed to have Jackie in his car.
Jackie slowed. Roman slowed the car to match him. Jackie looked at him warily.
