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Essay on Castles and Kings Crumble

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A phone call. That’s all it took to ruin what left of my day. One single, seemingly meaningless phone call. I could have just ignored it, then it wouldn’t have royally damaged what was remained of my stupid, tedious, unhappy assignment. It was a simple enough job, for the money at least. Put a neat crater into some business officials face, let his brains leak out, call to confirm, get the cash and leave. Easy. The stuck up prick went to the machines downstairs to get a pop at around 8:37 in the morning, roughly five minutes after he arrived in his posh, professional office probably with a gold or bronze name plate that showed he did none of the work but took all the credit. This bloke worked for five minutes then had to get something …show more content…

UP.” I mutter aloud through gritted teeth to no one in particular. Removing the phone from the shirt pocket, I tossed it on the concrete floor without looking, eyes locked to the scene. How the hell was I supposed to get a good shot in with that damn thing vibrating against my chest? The target’s not there. As if adding insult to injury, the phone let out a disdained chime and fell silent. << 1 New Voicemail: from Mr. Smith> A bolt of cold dread wells up in my throat. I knew that I’d botched up this job, even though it wasn’t my fault the fat lard decided not to amble down and chug a cola. Reasons aside, he was still going hold me responsible, further still I hadn’t answered my phone. Well shit, was I in for it now. I picked up the phone. “Moran,“ the voice on the other end of the line said, it’s tone clipped and tight. Unusual, I thought, for Smith, who typically sounded like a frog with a head-cold. “Get your worthless ass to the 7.15 Warehouse.” Now I was sure of it, Smith didn’t just sound sharp, he sounded anxious, frightened. “You hear me? 7.15 Warehouse now. RIGHT. FUCKIN’ NOW.” The call ended suddenly but it may as well have been funeral bells, because that’s what the 7.15 Warehouse was. An oversized interrogation chamber and disposal unit. In some time past I was posted there as extra security from a job with little details and lots of pay, the inhuman screams still lingered somewhere in the back part of my mind. God knows

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