"Félicitations, Mr. Dorret, on killing Annavon Dranger. Not bad for your first contract. In fact, I'm impressed."
"Thank you-" Dorret started, before the Boss stopped him.
"Let me finish, Dorret. I was going to say that I'm so impressed that I'm giving you another job right now." His meaty hand picked up the manilla folder and threw it in front of him. "His name is Feliz Convoy. I believe you've heard about him before?"
"Yes, Annavon's colleague mentioned him. I'll work on it right now, Boss."
"That's what I like to hear." His voice was raspy but cheerful. Dorret walked out of the room, and once he reached the automatic doors, he placed a keycard, the words Alluin Dorret printed in bold, against the sensor.
Alluin drove to his home, a small apartment in a large connected complex. The door lock screeched as Alluin turned his key. A lamp sat beside the door, which he turned on to reveal fast food wrappers and papers scattered across the floor. Alluin was in such a rush he forgot to take off his shoes as he raced to the cork bulletin board. He didn't look down once he slid all of the papers out from the manilla folder, but he coordinately pinned each one in pattern.
"Feliz Convoy, you say. CFO of a candy company?" he mumbled to himself. "Not the manliest of jobs. Seven million euros in debt." Alluin tried to piece together the man's story. He noticed the portrait of his target. "Wide, short, bald." He got up to make food, a long night awaiting him.
Alluin walked into the kitchen, dishes piled in the sink, so he grabbed what he needed and hand washed them. He placed the pot onto the stove, and turned on the heat. Alluin pulled the pot filler and allowed water to rise, then turned it off after it filled up halfway. The water began to boil, raw spaghetti noodles splashing as they fell from his hands. With a twist of tongs, the noodles fell fully into the water, and Alluin placed a pan onto the stove. Firstly, he added a handful of spinach to the pan, allowing it to wilt with a few glugs of olive oil. He then added thin garlic circles and a thyme sprig, which crackled with the heat. Before adding the now cooked noodles, he removed the sprig of thyme and allowed the flavors to meld. With a touch of white wine and half-filled glass of the pasta water, he gently mixed the pasta.
Now that his food was ready and plated, he went back to the bulletin board. Carefully he studied Mr. Convoy, making sure he knew his pattern of life. "He checks his factory every Thursday," his self-talk continued, "that should be a good time to hit'em. Possibly an 'accident'"
Alluin ended up falling asleep on the floor, his filthy plate beside him. Once he awoke, the room was still dark until he noticed that the blinds were closed. The rays of the sun shone on the plate where a cockroach was licking the leftovers clean. "Not again," Alluin complained. He almost ran to the kitchen to pull off multiple squares of paper towels, and quickly sped back to squick the bug. "Where are you, you disgusting cafard." It seemed to have crawled up the wall, which made the hairs on Alluin's arm stick up. Before it could escape to the ceiling, he slammed his hand against the cockroach, picked it up with the paper towels, and squashed it between his fingers.
"For the love of God, keep it down in there!" the neighbour shouted after Alluin banged on the wall.
"My apologies, Mrs. Denzel, there was a bug on the wall."
"Cafards again? Maybe it's time to move."
"Not yet, Mrs. Denzel." Alluin heard his neighbour's wicked, old laugh.
"Have a good day, sweetie."
"You too." He disposed of the dead creature and headed to the bathroom to clean up. Once the door closed, his clothes dropped, and he twisted the shower nozzle. Steam began to raise above the shower curtain, and Alluin got in. Hot water trickled down this back while he planned out his day to the minute. After ten minutes, the shower was off. He wrapped a towel around his waist and walked to the sink, where he pulled shaving cream from the drawer and lathered his lower face.
Alluin dressed himself after he finished shaving. The same suit that filled his closet, costing him thousands upon thousands, but he felt it was worth it as the cloth was soft and the stitching was precise—overall, professional. He made his way to his room to grab the watch from atop his nightstand. A knock-off Rolex his mom had bought him for his birthday a few years back. She had very little income because there was no man in the house.
His father died when he was seven. In fact, Alluin was there when it happened. On the metro, he watched his father get shot, where he quickly learned that Antoine de' Veau, an aspiring businessman, was behind it. At the time, Alluin thought it was unfair. His father was a head chairmen at Le Lion, which submitted to Antoine and Avidité shortly after the death. Now that he's grown, Alluin looks at it as just business; a way of life. That did not stop him wanting to kill Antoine, taking everything that he's ever cared about first. He thought of it as His 'business.' His 'way of life.'
Alluin looked at the watch once he put it on. "I should probably give her a call soon," he thought to himself. "Maybe after I check out the factory." It was a Tuesday, so he had today and tomorrow to prepare. Alluin picked up his phone to call the candy factory. "Bonjour, I was wondering what the times were for the tours?"
"Every weekday except Thursday from 12:00 P.M. to 7 P.M."
"How long does each tour usually take?"
"Anywhere from, I'll say, twenty to thirty minutes. Admission is fifteen Euros per person." Alluin thanked him and hung up. After putting on his dress shoes, he made his way to the factory. A line of parents and kids were built up inside, all waiting to get in. Slowly the line decreased, and Alluin finally paid. He remembered coming when he was a child, though the company was now ran by the son of the original owner, who had made many changes.
Cameras filled the entire space with very few blind spots. "Do you have any kids?" Alluin looked to his left to find a mother looking at him.
"Me?" He paused and waited for confirmation, to which she just nodded. "No, I'm just reliving a childhood memory."
"A lot has changed, huh? The last time I came, tours were free. They're really selling out on the money now."
"Yeah, they are." Alluin looked down at the girl hugging her mom's side. "Hey there, little one. Why aren't you looking at all of the candy being made?"
"Guess it's not her thing. It was mainly my idea to come."
"You told me we'd get candy," the child said. The two adults laughed at the adorable comment.
"I'll see you around, I guess. I don't want her making a scene."
"Don't let me stop you." As soon as the woman and her child got out of sight, Alluin stepped to the side to open a door. "Dammit, this is a family bathroom," he mumbled as he locked the door behind. He looked up for a plausible way to get around. Unhappily, he decided to enter the vents. To unscrew it, he grabbed a sheet of paper towel and began to fold it over itself until it was stiff but thin. After unscrewing and pulling off the vent cover, he entered them. He began to run out of breath, but tried to breathe softly. He knew to find the best conditioned room. Slowly, Alluin navigated with his ear to the metal to hear vibrations.
Alluin finally found the room he was searching for. It room was dim, illuminated only by a dozen of bright screens. A man sat in the chair below, studying the screens. The surveillant got up to switch shifts, which Alluin took as his time to get down. As soon as the door closed, he hit the metal guard until it fell from the ceiling, and dropped down. Without much time he took out the tape corresponding with the feed in sector three. Afterwards, he copied the display from sector nine to the screen previously used for every other machining room. He noticed the man walking to his room on the camera. Alluin then got back up in the vent and made it back to the bathroom, and screwed back on the vent.
The door opened, and Alluin fixed his red tie, before allowing the next person to enter. His tour ended shortly after, and Alluin drove home.
"Annavon Zeput retrouvé mort dans une ruelle. Annavon Zeput found dead in an alley." The news finally reported the man Alluin killed. It felt strange thinking back on his actions, but he didn't regret them. Time slowly passed while he laid on the couch, matching the habits of his home life. A crackle came from the television, which quickly brought Alluin back to the world. The sun was up.
"Bon sang, you crappy tv." Alluin got up to hit the side of it a few times. "C'mon, work." With a tired gait he walked to the closet to put on clean clothes, before heading out to the elevator. Mrs. Denzel creeped up on Alluin once the elevator doors opened.
"Bonjour, Alluin."
"Good morning, Mrs. Denzel. Where are you headed this morning?" He looked away to not draw eye contact.
"Just to the grocer. My friend told me that the butter was on sale."
"Your friends are still alive?" His neighbour wrinkled her face and smacked Alluin in the back of the head.
"I can have younger friends. Hasn't your mother taught you some manners?"
"My mother wants nothing to do with me. You know that."
"I forgot to tell you! Your maman was one apartment off so I've been getting your letters. I'll give them to you when I'm back." She walked out of the elevator, Alluin following. He then switched paths towards a blocky, black 2001 Buick. After he got in, it was apparent that he missed the Ferrari.
Alluin drove to his bank, getting out for the ATM. After patiently withdrawing €700, he got back in the car to drive to the nearest electronics store. Slowly, Alluin searched for the tv isle. "Monsieur, may I help you with what you are looking for?"
"Yes, please. Where are les téléviseurs?"
"Down there in the back right of the store." The clerk pointed towards the destination, Alluin thanking him before making his way over. Boxes filled the shelves, and Alluin swiftly picked one that costed €649.99. A flat screen with an included stand, but he felt like treating himself. With both hands, he pulled it off of the shelf by the handle, and hobbled it over to the checkout. The cashier, friendly, struck up a conversation that made Alluin smile.
"Do you need help bringing this to your car?"
"No, I should be fine. Thank you, though." After paying, Alluin picked it up again, and struggled to walk it back to his car. With no place to put it, he slid it onto the passenger seat.
The doors locked and the keys had just entered the ignition, but before Alluin could turn them, arms reached from the back seat and locked around his neck. He tried to speak but only gurgling arose and he struggled to get the man off of him. A bystander stopped to look inside and met with Alluin's eyes. He shrugged it off and went back on his way as if he saw nothing. Trying to think fast, Alluin turned on the ignition and hit the gas. After reaching fifty kilometers an hour, he quickly swerved into a lamp post, remembering the time he watched it happen in a movie. The airbag stopped his body from getting seriously injured. Once he felt the arms give, he looked back to see who it was. It was nobody he knew, a stranger lying unconscious.
After he allowed his heart to calm, the car door opened, blood dripping from Alluin's nose. "Oh my God, are you okay?" A crowd grouped up to aid Alluin.
"Yeah, I'm fine," mumbled Alluin. He popped the glovebox to take out the small pistol. After cursing out the unconscious man in the back seat, he aimed his gun at him. "You broke my new tv!" With that, he blew off his whole clip, pedestrians running away screaming. Alluin placed the gun into his pants and pulled the tv out with him, and started to walk home.
Alluin made his way back and opened the box. Sweat dripped from his chin as he carefully pulled out the television, and to his surprise, there wasn't even a scratch on the screen. "Dieu Merci."
The night rapidly elapsed, a new day bringing the end to a new job. Alluin fixed his tie before heading out the door. "One hour till Feliz arrives, but still no car." He picked up his phone to dial the Company.
"Name, please."
"Alluin Dorret. I need a car."
"Any preferences, Mr. Dorret?"
"Something casual, reliable," Alluin started before pausing for a few seconds, then continuing, "and old."
"You got it. A car is being delivered to you right now." The lady hung up the phone, and Alluin waited for the car. An iridescent blue 88' BMW pulled up, the new engine softly purring. A man got out of the car and gave Alluin the keys. With a straight face, the man walked away. Alluin entered the car and sped off to the candy factory.
Now at the rear of the factory, Alluin walked to the back entrance. A tall, obviously armed man with shades, stopped Alluin. "Sorry sir, the factory is closed on Thursdays." The officer's hand was now on his his side, ready to pull his gun at any second, and his other arm was outstretched to stop Alluin's proceeding movement. "Leave now, sir."
"My apologies. Didn't mean to cause trouble." Once the officer lowered his guard to converse, Alluin slammed his head into the wall behind him. Fortunately, the back door was unlocked, so Alluin continued his pace. Banter became clearer as it grew near, Alluin quickly pressing himself up against the wall.
"Do you think Mr. Convoy will notice the broken sugar puller?"
"It's going a million meters a second, of course he will."
"Still isn't as fast as you finish." Laughing became one sided. The men passed, and Alluin, again, pressed on. He neared the new talk that was apparent to be Mr. Convoy. His voice cruel but forgiving. Alluin followed the the sound of the voice. He looked up and read the sign Candy Stretching. An idea came to his head, but he needed to be alone with Feliz.
Alluin yelled out, "sugar spill in the mixer!" Luckily, all but Mr. Convoy ran to help, who instead continued his inspection, almost as if it were a common occurrence.
"Those idiots can't even pour sugar," Feliz blurted out as he entered the stretching room. A gun was pressed to his head.
"Say another word and you're dead."
"Who the hell are you?"
"Wrong answer." Alluin kicked him into the machine, screams escaping his mouth as his bones were crushed and limbs stretched. Workers rushed into the room, Alluin gone.
"Oh God! Oh God! Turn off the machines!" They all churned to a stop, but the mutilated body was proof that it was too late. The job was done.