Inside the washroom, the man pulled out a comcell and sent a text to an anonymous ID.
"Here are a few pictures of the kid. The descriptions also match."
A reply came almost immediately.
"They've confirmed it. It's him. You know what to do."
The man's face turned a little nervous. He took a glance at the closed door of the washroom and quickly typed.
"Do you want me to interrogate him myself? Or do I just inform you after they're taken down?"
"They're? Who else is in the house? Don't contact me if you can't ensure that there will be no variables. It's not just us who've been commissioned for this, remember? We can't even leave digital tracks."
The man became even more nervous, but after thinking for a moment, a flash of inspiration appeared on his face. He gritted his teeth and wrote back.
"There are only two adults, both long-term addicts, by the looks of it. How much of a variable can they be?"
"Then take down all three by any means and make sure they won't make a noise. I'll be nearby, waiting for the clearance. Leave the interrogation to me."
Assured, the man pocketed the comcell. After leaving the washroom, he spent the next forty minutes making small talk with the father of the target, reeling him into a conversation about underground drug supply chains.
The mother and the son were busy cooking dinner, which he'd spike with a heavy dose of sleeping pills, he decided. After dinner, he could just spend a few minutes smoking while watching them all close their eyes one by one.
Would his partner kill all three of them? He couldn't help but wonder. He had never seen that guy act so serious about a commission. The share he'd been promised was also considerably larger than usual.
They had killed people for far less before. To erase evidence, making a whole family disappear was not unusual.
A pity, he thought as he eyed the woman arranging the dishes on the dining table. Maybe he could have some fun before the interrogation of the boy ended...
While wandering around the table, he successfully spiked two of the three dishes after taking a scoop on his plate, and just as he was about to drop the chemical on the third one, he saw the boy walk out of the kitchen abruptly. He pulled his hand away fast, but judging by the sharp look he was given, the boy might have noticed it.
Fortunately, his suspicion was not enough to voice any accusations. The man felt his heart calm down as the boy shrugged and loaded up food from both of those dishes without any worries.
The dinner continued without any interruptions except one—when the boy groaned that he had forgotten to take medicine for his head injury, and ran to his bedroom for it.
The man was about to ask what was taking the boy so long, but he suddenly felt like speaking would take too much effort. The food was so tasty and fulfilling that every mouthful made his body shiver from the taste, spreading a distinct sense of relaxation and laziness in his limbs.
Mmm, this house was so nice and quiet, just the kind of peaceful atmosphere he needed after running around doing errands the whole day. He hadn't felt such a pleasant feeling gushing inside him in years. And the intensity was only growing!
Wait, something was wrong! Why-
He opened his eyes, realizing in dulled horror that he didn't remember closing them. Both the husband and the wife sitting near him were looking at him with bleary eyes, with the addled smile of an addict getting his hit plastered on their faces.
He recalled the type of drugs the father said they preferred, and his confusion-filled fear would have welled up higher had another surge of forceful calmness not soothed his nerves.
Yes, so what if he had accidentally taken some Black Foam? He was enjoying this so far, wasn't he? There was no reason to give in to unreasonable panic and break the peaceful atmosphere here.
The noise of someone stepping into the room took his attention for a moment. The boy had returned, holding a two-foot-long rod in his grip. Their eyes met as he stepped closer, his expressionless face giving away nothing.
"It's so quiet and calm here. Why don't you get yourself a good nap? You need one, don't you?" The boy said, looking at all three of them.
The man wasn't sure who he was addressing, but the father and the mother of the boy nodded obediently and staggered to their bedroom. They seemed used to the routine.
"Should I follow them?" The man spoke out his thoughts with much effort.
"No need. I'm here to help you sleep." The boy raised the metal rod and swung it down on top of his head.
The next thing he realized, he was sitting on a rusted metal chair in an unfamiliar spot, tied up with thick ropes, with a headache that could split a skull. Looking around, he realized that this was probably an abandoned housing project.
The walls were half-done, the windows were just gaps between walls, and the moonlight outside was just enough to illuminate the distant lights of the city.
It took him about ten seconds to guess where he was. This was where the hilly region near the city began. Some real estate corpos were trying to expand part of the city in this direction for years. The projects were massive, and mostly deserted at night, making it an ideal spot to commit certain crimes.
He himself had beaten a young guy—a loan defaulter to near death here, after the sharks were done torturing him.
Confusion disappeared. Fear set in. The man looked straight ahead at the darkest corner of the floor where he was being held captive, where the sole source of light was an active comcell.
A face could be vaguely seen hovering over its screen. His fear turned into pure terror as memories began to flood in upon recognizing that face.
"Your partner doesn't seem to know my exact address. He's very concerned about why you haven't informed him whether you've taken me and my family down yet."
The boy stepped out of the mass of darkness and loomed over him, and gentle moonlight shone on the blood-soaked metal rod in his hand. Placing its jagged tip on one of his eyelids, he spoke impassively.
"Tell me, how should I respond?"