(4057 words)
"She's got a Barbarella silver swimsuit
And when she needs to shelter from reality
She takes a dip in my daydream."
Ivy Brooks
My eyes are stuck on Chris, looking for some kind of emotion besides fear. Adrenaline, excitement, anything- but all he does is stare at our stock for the month, his hand pressed against the glass as if it will protect him from reality.
"Welcome to the Salvation," Jackson presents as if it's this beautiful project filled with butterflies and honey, smiling at their reactions to our full time job. They all look so.. different than us.
Sophie, Jackson, Alex, and I are so laid back and calm in this moment, or appear to be, not a single emotion on our faces besides excitement and pride. While they stand there, gawking at life sentences and danger, frozen in place from the reality of what is being offered to them.
"This is our group's cut for the month," I explain, trying to gain their attention again. "Our job is to sell and collect money."
"Maybe rob a bank or kidnap someone once in a blue moon," Jackson shrugs as Sophie takes a crunch from her lollipop, her eyes darting around as I bite the inside of my cheek.
"Kidnap?" Chris snaps his head towards us, I could see the fear etched into his face like a flawless painting that hangs next to billion dollar work. He was the best kind of art, heartbreaking and beautiful.
"You won't have to do that," I lie, looking back at my crew for a second to see them all give me a look that says they know I'm a complete bullshitter right now. "For now," I add.
"What?" Nick turns around as well, Matt taking a little extra time to examine what was in front of him before facing us too. "You expect us to just walk into this like fucking mindless ducks?"
"No," I shake my head, walking back towards the control panel and I turn off the night vision before flipping on the room's light. It's a bit low to not draw attention from the workers so they can do their job.
Some of them act like they're at a fucking Walmart and forget they can get their head blown off for making the trucks late for their delivery. Idiots I fucking swear, I understand we're all human but stopping to check your fucking phone for an update on your favorite celeb's new post is too fucking human.
"I expect you to accompany us for the remainder of our time here," I sit myself down on one of the chairs that are slid underneath the large metal table in the center of this room. It's meant for cleaning and loading guns but our workers are on break right now, probably smoking cigarettes out back.
"To rob banks and murder people?" Chris crosses his arms, watching us like a hawk. I can't read his face very much, all I really see is a pinch of worry but the rest is what you'd expect a zombie's expression to be. Emotionless.
"To help us find the rats in this city," Jackson sighs as he sits himself on the chair next to me, his jacket squeaking slightly. "We'll do the rest,"
"And what makes you think we're going to put our fucking lives on the lines for you assholes?" Nick asks, seeming to be the most angry at the moment but, we can handle a little anger.
"Because of the money," I shrug simply, looking around at the three as Nick scoffs at my answer while Matt shivers in his own skin- Chris still looking at us like we're just a couple of regular people and this doesn't phase him at all. "Because of the excitement and power you'll get working for us,"
"But we wouldn't be working for you, would we?" Nick butts in again, I'm guessing his mind is working miles a minute as he seems to be scoping this whole thing out. "You're not the head of whatever the fuck this is, are you?"
