patriot.

      “I took a guess. Nope, but I figured you at
       least have a conscience.” There’s a tick
       to his jaw while the corners of his mouth 
       dipped down, glancing at the poor soul
       crumpled in a limp heap. Slowly he 
       turned over the body with his foot, 
       kneeling down to search their
       pockets until he found a wallet and 
       quickly searched through it. 

       “Lena Sol, twenty five, married. From these
       pictures I’m guessing she was a mother to
       two kids.” A glance is spared upward, searching
       the other’s face. “Maybe you should start
       asking these questions.“

       ❝ I have one. His name’s Jiminiy Cricket and
       he sits on my shoulder and tells me when he
       thinks I’m doing something wrong. ❞ It’s tempting
       to say that he locked him in a cage and starved
       him to death but he refrained. Instead watching
       as the wallet was pulled out and the identity was
       given. And, surprise surprise, no remorse was
       felt.

       ❝ I don’t go into these jobs blind. She was caught
       embezzling, selling company secrets, and getting
       on the wrong side of powerful people. When they
       confronted her, she threatened to cause a scandal.
       If not me, someone else would have done it. Least
       I pocket the cash. ❞ Her death was quick and most
       likely painless as well, but he didn’t feel the need
       to mention that.