False Gods

Book III: Stolen Valor

Chapter XIX

He stood on top of the building, looking down at the roadways, covered in vesses, and wondering to himself if what hewas doing was really the right thing to do.

"I mean, sure, by a moral standpoint it seemed correct, but I sometimes wondered if assassination was the only option," he wondered aloud.

"Hey Canaan, you gonna keep standing up there looking pretty or are you actually going to earn us a paycheck this week?" a voice said over the intercom he had imbedded in his ear.

"Yeah, yeah, Zane. Don't worry about me," Caanan replied, beginning to fit the parts of my high-caliber sniper rifle in place. "I'll get it done."

"Cool, you mind if I play some music?" Zane asked.

"Only if your promise not to play anymore of your modern hot garbage," Canaan snapped.

"It's pop, and it's not garbage," he argued.

Canaan sighed, Zane was his brother, but his taste of music wasn't what Canaan saw as tasteful.

"...And play!" Zane said excitedly, much to his brother's discontent.

Canaan stopped for a second.

"You so realize I will be killing people to this song, right?"

"Yeah, get on it."

Canaan rolled his eyes as he dropped from the ten-story building and held his gun.

He fired one shot through a window and then used an ether-powered wing suit to make the landing.

"And confirmed dead, nice shot. That dude had some enemies. The next target's eating at a fancy-schmancy restaurant downtown," Zane informed. "Sending you the pic."

Canaan looked at the small button on his forearm, he hit it, and a hologram gave him a full-color representation of his next target. The target was wanted for human trafficking and at least forty accounts of rape. However he had too much money to be caught legally, however the pretty lady with a small fortune worked some quick persuasion. Now, he was as good as dead.

"Got it," Zane said as he hit a button on his one-piece black leather suit.

The suit changed in appearance to a tuxedo and he pulled out a disc that turned into a form of hoverboard and flew toward the restaurant.

When he got to the restaurant, he saw a busboy, young and obviously new, carrying food to the man.

"Jackpot," Canaan whispered to himself as he approached the young man.

"Excuse m—" the young man started before Canaan grabbed his arm.

"Boy how long have you worked here?"

"It's my first week," he said nervously.

"I can tell, you're really about to serve that man his food and such condition?"

"I— what's wrong with it?"

Canaan laughed. "You can't smell it? Not enough seasoning, allow me!"

Canaan pulled out a normal salt shaker and sprinkled it all over his food.

"There you go, boy! Now, go impress our guest!" Canaan encouraged.