heelllloooo. i know its been a long time since ive written anything. but ive been lazy. everyones entitled to some lazyness, right? well here's a new story. i actually see it going somewhere cause i have a plan for it. i know, shocking right? its a little different then the stuff i usually write about, but i was up for a change. so here it is. enjoy!

Prologue

“23 hours. Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Target on sight,” Evan mumbled into his walkie-talkie as soft as he could without whispering.

His job wasn’t easy, tracking prisoners without ever being seen. He had to watch their every move, making sure that they never made a mistake. One simple mistake, one spoken word, and those prisoners were dead. There were no second chances for the prisoners, and Evan was the prosecutor who had to make sure they wouldn’t escape.

The thought of no second chances pained his memory, reminding him about how this job was his own personal second chance. He had the ability to redeem himself, yet these other prisoners could not. How different was he from them? They both killed, both murdered, coldheartedly. Evan had to remind himself that this was their second chance. They should be in prison, “rotting in hell” as his boss had told him.

No person deserves to rot in hell, Evan thought, but he was well aware that it was not his decision to make. He was here for one thing and one thing only, to follow his assigned target. The boss told him he would be perfect for this job, only heartless people would be able to shoot men on sight, and Evan was that heartless man.

At that time, Evan did believe he had no heart. He killed so many people that he forgot his motivation. He didn’t know why he killed; he only concentrated on the sound of the bullet pulsing through the air as he cocked his gun and pulled the trigger, scarcely breathing to generate a better aim on his target.

He had been in the business for years, not thinking, only shooting. Yet no matter how much he tried to convince himself, there was always a nagging voice in his mind, telling him that he did have a heart and he could do better than this.

Evan pushed the voice into the back of his mind and concentrated on his target.

“There’s nobody here. I searched the area twice and there was no sign of any movement. We’re perfectly safe. Now, hand it over.” The voice was far in the distance, yet not far enough away to prevent Evan’s sensitive ears from hearing every single spoken word.

“I’ll give you the loot first, but no skipping out on me,” Evan heard the second man whisper as he took a quick peak in the distant alleyway, subconsciously noting that it was empty. Only the outlines of the two men were visible, though it was enough for Evan. He could see the younger man twitching impatiently as the middle-aged man swiftly handed him an envelope. Money or drugs, Evan presumed. That’s all the kids cared about these days. These kids were the future of America and they were ruining themselves, though there was nothing Evan could do about that. One problem at a time, he reminded himself, looking towards the older man who quietly cleared his throat.

That was it. That tiny clearing of the man’s throat gave way to his intentions. Evan knew the move this man was about to make, possibly before the man even knew himself. The young boy quickly scrambled away with the envelope clutched to his chest, leaving the older man alone in his tracks and empty handed. Evan tensed himself for a reaction, not knowing whether or not the man would wait to make any haste moves until once the boy was out of the way. The man reached out towards the boy a beat too late, and the boy was far gone by then. Evan was unaware of the relationship between the man and the boy, yet he still knew that the man could care less what happened to the boy. He only wanted to test the system and Evan was the system that this man could not escape.

Evan cocked his gun and pointed in the man’s direction, aiming to fire his gun at a seconds notice. These were the man’s last few seconds, no matter how much he or Evan wanted differently. Life wasn’t fair and Evan knew that more than anybody else did. They both had a job to do, though Evan could only be sure of the man’s future. He would be dead momentarily, before he could even say four words. Both Evan and the man were the best in their businesses, yet Evan was strangely confident. He acted as though he was just out to take a midnight stroll and that this night was no different from any other. This man was dangerous and Evan knew it, though he was hardly scared for his own life.

“You greedy little--,” the older man began to shout towards the direction of the boy, his voice hoarse from lack of speech. He was cut off midsentence by a loud shot that rang through the dark alleyway. It was a clear shot through the man’s heart that silenced his thoughts forever. Evan’s boss would be proud, as he usually was with Evan’s dedication to each of his jobs. He never gave up until he brought a dead body back to his boss, as he would do today.

Evan waited several minutes to make sure the man was definitely dead before he approached body. Evan was always an overly cautious man, though he had no previous transcript of mistakes that would cause him to hesitate. Nonetheless, Evan was the best and he knew when to wait.

He approached the body and touched two fingers against the man’s palm. He then moved his hand to a particular part in the man’s neck, and felt no heartbeat. Cold and dead, Evan assessed as he picked up the body and shoved it into the duffel bag he carried over his shoulder.

With the duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his gun securely in his jacket, Evan headed off in the opposite direction. He counted his steps forward, concentrating merely on putting one foot in front of the other, though he had little luck keeping his thoughts in control. He reminded himself that this one man was no different from any other job, or for that matter any of the other people who had died across the world at this exact moment.

No matter what he told himself, this man was different. This man was shot by him, by Evan. He had shot yet another person without even thinking of him, or the life he could have had. This man might have had a family and friends, people who loved him. He might have just had everything Evan wanted in his life and maybe even more, yet Evan didn’t even have the heart to feel jealous.

It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, Evan kept repeating to himself as he hopped in the car and drove off through the windy streets, trying to appear nonchalant. Those three simple words were no longer reassuring because he hardly noticed them anymore. They were just a pretense, similar to the body wrapped up in the duffle bag in the front seat next to him. No matter what he told himself, he could never fully escape the desperate gnawing in the pit of his stomach. Nothing he did could matter anymore, because each person he shot, each bullet wasted, was like a knife to his already bleeding heart.