Chapter Fourteen

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His main reason for existing was to be an absolute annoyance for me. It was about time I returned the favor.

His comments, his mannerisms.. it all just pissed me off. He always had something to say, yet never had the balls to act on anything. All bark but would never bite. Too bad I wasn't a coward like him and would bite.

I lingered outside the Conversation Room as the boss told Jack his next assignment. He would be in charge of kidnapping the fiancé of the businessman I had slaughtered. It was ridiculous that I had been taken out of group assignments; killing the man was the most important thing in that moment. He had seen all our faces, Tim's, Brian's , even my own. If I had left him alive, he would have given a statement.

"Hey Toby, what the fuck are you doing creepin' around the Conversation Room?"

Fuck.

I whipped around to see who had caught me, only to have my nose practically bump into his own nose. He was startling in appearance to anyone who had never seen him, really anyone in general; unnaturally smooth skin with an underlying roughage in certain places, burned then bleached until it had turned a sickly white. When I had first met Jeff, the slices he had carved into his face ran from ear to ear and were fresh, gruesome; a bright red warning of how unstable Jeff really was. He reminded me of myself for a little while, but I soon came to see that even myself, an axe-murderer that feels no pain, literally or figuratively, still had more sanity than him. He wouldn't hold back. If he wanted to kill you, he would. If he wanted to kidnap your wife and kids, stuff em' in a box and ship them to Indonesia, he would.

If he wanted to kidnap (Name), the fiancé of the dead businessman, just to spite Jack, he would.

"You feel like g-g-getting in t-trouble, Jeff?" A wicked grin crossed my lips, tugging the flesh taut where the opening in my cheek was. Maybe if I didn't go through with the plan and apologized to Jack, he would stitch up my face.

Maybe if he didn't constantly run his fucking mouth about shit he wasn't even there to witness, I wouldn't be plotting against him.

You've made the plan, on with it, Toby.

I involuntarily smacked a closed fist against my skull, to which Jeff didn't react. It's not like me trying to smack out the voices in my head was a new occurrence; wasn't the first time, sure as hell wouldn't be the last.

He sighed, grinning. To be fair, with the permanent grin etched into his face, it was extremely difficult to see any facial reactions from him other than grinning, but I could tell. Mischief, vigor and teenage angst shook in a bartender's mixer behind his eyes; he loved foiling the assignments of his fellow colleagues. I never knew exactly why, or what motivated him to care enough to purposefully mess them up. Maybe he hated them all. Maybe he was just Jeff; an insane teenager who didn't really care for any living thing. Of course, aside from Liu. But even then, the only living being he cared about, he attempted to murder. The kid was a lit loose canon surrounded by gunpowder, if you got too close you'd be a goner.

"Whatcha' thinking? Sacrifice him a second time?"

He nearly burst into laughter, muttering about how 'pussy-like' it was of Jack to not even fight back against the cult that sacrificed him.

I harshly put a shaky finger up to my lips, my twin hatchets slightly rattling against the belt they were held in in protest of the quick movements.

"S-s-s-shut--KIDNAP HER--," I slapped a hand over my mouth, taking the moment of silence after my Tourette's outburst to hear any movement in the room beyond the door I had my ear pressed against.

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