Lawrence

Six months earlier…

"Do you understand the importance of your mission, Lawrence?” asked Trent. His gentle voice filled the young man with more dread than any threat from Norton.

Lawrence gulped and nodded. “Y-yes, sir.”

“Good,” Trent smiled, his crimson eyes glowing with approval. “Then, repeat after me, what is your directive?”

Lawrence took a deep breath and mouthed the words he’d been practicing all week long. It had all happened so suddenly too. One day, he’s an entry-level employee at Prometheus Limited, a meager job at best. The next day, he’s being recruited by the President of Lucidea himself, who it turns out, is also the leader of a centuries-old cult of “international peace-keepers.”

That’s how they’d described themselves, anyway.

Well, what do I care? The pay’s good, isn’t it? Lawrence coughed and repeated his instructions. “Infiltrate Blink Inc. as a personal assistant to Justin Roland. Use the…” He stumbled for a second. "Yhe opportunity. Yes! The opportunity to get close to him and keep you posted about his… activities…?”

“Excellent!” Trent clapped his hands with joy. “I knew I’d made the right call in choosing you. You, my son, are the perfect man for the job.”

Lawrence smiled nervously. “T-thank you, sir. If I may, sir, may I ask why I was chosen? I mean, don’t get me wrong, sir, I appreciate it so much and the pay is excellent and everyone here has been, well, you have been really nice to me. But, why me? I’m sure there are more people out there more remarkable than me, sir?”

“Precisely.”

“Sir?”

“You, Lawrence, are without a doubt, the most unremarkable individual I’ve ever witnessed. Trust me, I’ve seen my fair share of mediocrity but you? You just take the cake.”

Lawrence smiled at first, then fell back in his armchair and wondered if what he said was even a compliment.

Trent shook his head, leaned onto Lawrence’s lap, and breathed into his ear. “Unremarkable parents. Unremarkable education. Unremarkable job. No accomplishments to speak of. No friends, no family, no one who’d blink an eye if you were to disappear tomorrow.”

Lawrence gulped nervously and retreated further back into his seat. Trent gently massaged the tips of his fingers and stared into his eyes with an expectant gaze. “Lawrence, you were made for this job.”

“B-but what if I mess it up, sir?”

The door was forced open with a powerful jolt and behind it stood a tall, curvaceous woman with flowing red hair. She entered the room with one hand on her waist and gave Trent a nod of mutual respect.

“That’s where I come in, kid,” she said, looking at Lawrence as if he were an insect. “Don’t you worry about any mess-ups. I will be there with you every step of the way.”

“T-that’s very reassuring, thank you!” Lawrence blurted out.

“But.” Trent took back charge of the conversation with a single utterance. “Let’s say, hypothetically, you do make a mistake. What do you think happens then?”

“I-I would rather not think about that, sir,” Lawrence answered in a squeaky voice.

The woman cast an eye of doubt upon Trent. He answered her with a decisive nod.

“No one is more confident of your abilities than me, Lawrence. But should you happen to fail, well, let’s just say…” Trent crouched down, put a gentle arm over his shoulder, and smiled. “Your services will no longer be required by us, or anyone else in the future.”

∆∆∆

Mr. Roland had called for an emergency meeting. Having seen the news segment about Dr. Boon’s murder, Lawrence was sweating through the very seams of his three-piece suit. He’d gone through two bottles of anti-anxiety pills in the last five hours and even then, he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep all night.

Even Patricia, his usually calm overseer, had bags under her eyes. “Fuck! I knew that last bottle was a bad idea.” She gripped her forehead with a pained expression.

Lawrence gulped and said nothing. Over the last six months, he’d learned one very important lesson: If his opinion was ever required, which was scarce, people would bloody well ask for it. That alone had saved him from countless beatings. Even Roland seemed to respect his taciturn nature, going as far as calling him the ideal employee.

Patricia breathed into her palms and recoiled in disgust. “Does my breath really smell that bad?” she asked him.

Lawrence breathed in the pungent odor of liquor barely disguised by breath mints. The very smell seemed to burn his nose hairs. He answered with a gentle “no”. Another lesson he’d acquired in the last six months: If people wanted answers that made them unhappy, they wouldn’t ask the resident boot-licker.

“Feeling nervous?” asked Patricia as she checked the mirror on her smartphone for facial imperfections.

“A little bit,” he answered.

“Well, worry not. I’ve made the necessary arrangements. Worse comes to worst, just do whatever the cunt says. And do not mention the Order at any cost. Understood?”

“Ugh! For the millionth time, yes. Get off my fucking back already.”

Oh, shit.

It wasn’t until after the words had left his mouth that Lawrence became aware of what he had said.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

And more importantly, to whom he had said it.

Before he could come up with a hasty apology, Patricia grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against a nearby wall. “What was that?” The other employees headed for Roland’s office stopped to watch the drama unfold. Then, they remembered that they worked at Blink and kept walking as if nothing had happened.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s the pills. I’ve been taking pills… for the stress. I’m sorry!” he said, raising his shaking hands in a disarming gesture.

Patricia released her grip and let his skinny body fall to the marble floor. “Do not get sassy with me, Blackwater. I go through enough shit cleaning up your messes.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded and collected himself as the office workers kept walking all around him. Not one person offered to help him up. Once I get my money, I’ll buy a house on the beach and hire that bitch as my secretary. Patricia or Caroline or whatever she calls herself. I’ll make her feed me bananas as I recline in the morning sun.

“Get moving, you idiot! Do you really want to keep that cunt waiting?” She yapped at him.

Lawrence raised his knees with a pained grunt and got to his feet with all the energy of a dead horse. “Yes, ma’am,” he said softly. One day…

Mr. Roland had a reputation for being difficult to work with. The man poured himself into his work like hot liquid metal and expected everyone else to do the same. Blink saw more firings than any other IT company in the world, and yet, profits were at an all-time high. The general public attributed it to good management and Justin Roland’s winning smile, which, by all accounts, hadn’t left his face in twenty years of Blink.

Today, that smile was nowhere to be seen. Justin Roland was furious. His expression can best be described in the words of the employees who saw him that day. “I thought he was going to kill me, bring me back to life, torture me, and then kill me again.”

Lawrence and Patricia stood in a single file alongside every other high-ranking employee as the boss surveyed them with a gun resting against his cheek. No one, not even Jeremy “Loudmouth” Calico from Accounting, made a single sound.

At last, Mr. Roland began his address. “I’ll be brief. As you know, I lost a very dear friend last night. Dr. Arthur Boon was like an older brother to me. Loving, helpful, stern when needed. And yesterday, he was murdered in cold blood by another man who is very dear to me.”

Whispers started within the standing group. Hushed sounds of awe and surprise filled the already crowded room. Lawrence looked at Patricia with concern who simply nodded and told him to stay quiet. Mr. Roland raised an arm and the room fell silent once more.

“Now, I’m not gonna name him. Lord knows you morons won’t be able to do jack even if you knew who he was. But here’s the interesting part, he wasn’t alone. I spent all night checking entry records for Dr. Boon’s building. And this is funny,” he chuckled. “One of the check-in guests at the party was an employee of Blink. That’s right, it was one of you.”

Mr. Roland pointed a finger at Lawrence who was, coincidentally, standing in the middle of the row. The crowd burst into yet another chorus of discussion. Lawrence looked at Patricia with worry. She shook her head and told him to think nothing of it.

“I’ve got the life history of every single person in this room in the palm of my hands. None of you had any business being there at the party. So, the one who did was also complicit in the assassination of Dr. Boon.”

This time, the crowd remained silent.

Mr. Roland extended a hand into his coat pocket and brought forth a rectangular card covered by a thick sheet of plastic. Lawrence knew the shape all too well. “Whatever moron decided it was a good idea to aid in the murder of Dr. Boon, also thought it was wise to drop their ID card on the scene of the crime. Which one of you was it, I wonder? Well, I’m kidding, of course. I know who it was.”

Lawrence wished he could dab the sweat off his face with a handkerchief but found himself too afraid to even move. Mr. Roland shook his head and pointed his gun at the crowd. In the center, once again, stood Lawrence. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You’re not getting paid enough for this. Get out of the way, you moron!” His body, however, had other plans.

Relax, his brain told him. It was Patricia or Caroline or whatever who went into that building, right? You’re safe. Stop stressing out. Take a chill pill.

“If she’s busted, we’re both dead, you fool!” He shouted back at his brain.

His brain responded with an innocent “oh”.

“Patricia, step forth, please,” Mr. Roland commanded.

Oh, hell.

Patricia reassured Lawrence with a smile, readjusted her coat, and stepped forth with her hands behind her back, not betraying a hint of emotion. “Sir,” she spoke.

“No no no no,” Lawrence mumbled to himself. What’s going on? Oh my god, he’s gonna kill her! I need to get out of here. I need to…

“Do you consider yourself a loyal employee of Blink?” Mr. Roland asked.

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

“Do you believe in dedicating yourself to your work, no matter the personal cost?”

“I do, sir.”

Roland leaned forward in his seat and looked her in the eyes. “If that is the case, is there anything you want to tell me, Patricia?”

“No, sir.” She shook her head.

“Are you sure about that?” He raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. “I might go easier on you if you come clean right now.”

“I have nothing to say in my defense, sir.”

Mr. Roland looked around the room with a murderous glint in his eyes. “Anyone else feel like adding anything?”

He was met with pin-drop silence.

Lawrence was about ready to jump to his knees and confess his guilt. Knowingly or not, he was complicit in the death of a human being. God’s work, my ass! He wanted to run and hide and get as far away from Blink as possible. But his body wouldn’t listen. So, he just stood there silently as Mr. Roland eyed them all hoping for a confession. Sensing that this tactic wasn’t working either, Mr. Roland gave up.

“Very well, you all may leave,” he said. “Sorry for holding up your work.”

Lawrence felt a boulder being lifted off his shoulders. Oh, dear. Oh, God. Oh, thank merciful Lord.

The crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief as they got up to leave the office. Phew, bullet dodged!

“Everyone except Mr. Jeremy Calico from Accounting,” Mr. Roland added.

Lawrence stopped in his tracks until Patricia shoved him to keep moving with the crowd. He gaped at her in terror and confusion but she didn’t even look at him. Wait, what? Why him? He’s innocent.

To say that Mr. Calico was surprised at the accusation would be an understatement. Within seconds, the man was on his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks as he pleaded innocence and begged for mercy.

Lawrence was forced to mingle with the rest of the crowd as they vacated the office. Mr. Calico’s desperate cries were still ringing in his ears.

That was the last he ever heard of his co-worker.

∆∆∆

For Lawrence, his six months at Blink had been a trial by fire. The fact that he was still alive was nothing short of a miracle. A miracle that he needed another fifty or sixty times if he was to get out without losing a limb.

He collected the files on his office table with the look of one who had just seen God. “How?” he asked himself as he tossed waste papers into the trash bin next to his desk. Not once had he ever failed to clean his desk. The ritual gave him something of a moment to reflect on all that had transpired that day.

Today, he felt that reflection was unnecessary.

As he was about to lock his office and depart for the day, he noticed Patricia standing in his doorway with a devilish grin. “Told you I had it under control.”

“You… you planted Mr. Jeremy’s ID in the building?”

“Well, I wasn’t about to use one of mine, now, was I?”

“What’s going to happen to him?” asked Lawrence. Although, he was afraid he already knew the answer.

Patricia averted her gaze.

“You... It’s your fault. You did this!” said Lawrence.

Patricia scoffed at him. “Spare me the lecture, kid. I did what I had to do to keep us alive.”

Lawrence shut his eyes and gave up the line of questioning. So, there’s really no justice in the world, huh? he thought, laughingly. “So, what now?”

“Trent burned down the hornet’s nest last night. Roland is a bit rattled, to say the least. With Boon dead, he’s sure to hit up the rest of his allies.”

“So, what’s his next play?” Lawrence sat back in his chair and cupped his eyes. God, how did I ever get stuck in this mess? He wondered how life would’ve been had he never accepted Trent’s offer. A meager job at Prometheus looked like the dream now.

Patricia sighed. “The cunt’s going on a trip and wants me to come with him. I made some arrangements and got him to haul your ass too.”

"W-what is that supposed to mean?” Lawrence asked, the blank, clueless stare returning to his eyes.

Patricia put an arm over his shoulder and smiled. “Pack your bags, kid. We’re flying to the Wadin Empire.”