“You’re a ghost, Viccy boy, and there’s nothing more powerful than that.”
I went to a pawn shop and bought the best quality gear I could, considering it was a second hand store and I only had a few grand on me. I was dead now, so that meant money was a little hard to come by.
The gold I’d built with bodies and bullets was resting until I told it where to go. I was dead, though, so that meant someone had to get it. Of course I wanted it to be Lenny, but I’d died saying I couldn’t give a shit about her. That had been the point, the reason for everything. Before I gave it to her, I had to be certain Seven’s plan would work. Otherwise bestowing all of it on Len
ny was a big red flag.
She would be taken care of. She would get it all, eventually.
After getting the gear, I set up shop at an abandoned storefront. I was a ghost now, and like other ghosts before me, I wouldn’t be at peace until I completed my final mission. Seven wasn’t explicit on how he wanted it done, but he was bloody fucking right that it wasn’t small.
“Are you fucking with me right now?” Three days in this fucking motel room and maybe I was going stir crazy. Maybe I hadn’t heard him right.
“Yep, Ashton Kutcher is right behind the shit-stained curtains. This has all been one giant fucking prank.”
“You need to get new material,” I said, rubbing my leg. It was pretty much healed—well, as healed as a man like me in my job could expect.
“Fuck you, my shit is golden.”
“How the goddamn fuck am I supposed to destroy GEM?” I urged.
“There you go, being dramatic.” Seven waved his cigarette back at me and peered out the shit-stained curtains. “I said, I need you to eliminate their wetwork division.”
“Sorry, you’re right, regular fucking day in the park…”
“You might be surprised…”
I turned on my setup, the glow of the old computer lighting up my face. As I started booting up the Stone Age software, I thought back to my plan. There was only one dumbass in the world I could screw over to pull it off.
Dom Weathers.
Lucky for me, he was the same guy that fucked me over, so I wasn’t feeling any particular pangs of loyalty. Dom always had a soft spot for pretty faces. It nearly got him kicked out of the program. At the end of training, every recruit was given “confidential” information and later a beautiful woman would approach us at a bar while we were celebrating. Most of us saw right through it, but some weren’t so astute.
Of course Dom nearly spilled everything, but once again I pulled him out of it. I don’t know why I did it. Maybe it was because Dom had become like a brother to me. My family was non-existent at that point and I was trying to fill voids better left empty. I should have realized my family tree was rotted beyond salvation, and Dom would prove to be no exception.
Lucky for me, Dom never learned from his mistakes, and was still the dumbass I knew from basic. When he’d confided to me months ago about the “blondie sys analyst” he’d been trying to get ride his dick, he’d given me more information than he thought.
Blonde hair, brown eyes, and sys analyst was all I needed to know. Malorie Grey, a systems analyst with a level two clearance, had started working at GEM three years before. As far as I’d learned, she’d only crossed paths with Dom a few times.
Since Malorie worked in marketing and not wetwork (an officially nonexistent department), all of her logs were transparent and available. She appeared to be a normal person with a normal job. She worked her nine to five, walked her dog, occasionally took sick days, and was really looking forward to spending vacation with her boyfriend.
Yeah, her fucking boyfriend, who was definitely not Dom Weathers. Outside of GEM, Dom and Malorie were perfect fucking strangers. Malorie probably wouldn’t even remember Dom, considering the only time they’d met was when he emailed her to fix something on his computer.
“This isn’t really my purview, I will have IT check into it.” And that’s all she wrote, folks. Sounds like love. I wasn’t surprised Dom had developed a near-stalker level attraction for her. Since I’d known the guy, every single one of his “relationships” had involved a restraining order. Lucky for me, his delusions were going to work in my favor.
They were fucking Facebook friends, though, because today it didn’t matter if you liked the person or had even met the person, chances were you were still their friend on Facebook. Another delusion that was going to work in my favor.
It took all of two seconds to hack into her account. I didn’t even bother trying to break Facebook’s encryption algorithm, I just looked at her public profile and found her dog’s name. Her password? The fucking dog.
I sent Dom a private message from her account: Dom, I need your help.
Almost instantly, Dom replied, What’s up Blondie?
I don’t think I should say over Facebook, I responded. It’s not secure.
I can meet you at your place. How the fuck Dom Weathers knew her address when this was the most they’d spoken moved him further into Ted Bundy territory.
It’s not safe.