The Fool

Chapter Thirty-One

Synn was slouched in the chair, elbows propped on the arms while he rested his chin in his right palm. He looked unbothered by the situation, while the security in the room looked at the young man, confused. Many people have sat in the chair before Synn, waiting as he did now. But many of them never left that chair in the end, visible by the blood that stain the black plastic.

Synn looked around the room. He had only been in here once, and that was when he was first recruited. He had been blind folded and knocked unconscious while he was walking home from school one day a couple years ago, then he woke up here. This time, he knew they were coming for him. He was blind folded and knocked unconscious again just earlier in the day and surprise surprise, here he was now.

It was a nice room, despite what some may expect. Well, he had expected some sort of an old abandoned building, but no. Just like years ago, this room had was small enough, with black daunting walls that seemed to close everything in. There was grey and white marble tiles beneath his feet that seemed to be polished on the daily, considering the lack of blood stains that there no doubt should be. His only complaint was that it was pretty empty, apart from the chair he sat in, the lamp on the wall behind him shining over his head and the unit full of weapons, it lacked soul.

Suddenly the door opened. The security straightened up and looked towards the door. Synn merely lifted his head to watch the scene. Of course, in walked the big man himself. He didn't have a name, well, not one he ever shared with anyone. He wore black slacks and a red shirt, blood red. Black dress shoes met the tiles with a neat sound that echoes throughout the room. He was an older looking man, perhaps late fifties. With tanned skin, salt and pepper hair and short beard. Frown lines settled deep on his forehead as he looked at the nonchalant young boy in front of him.

"Mr Reeds" He said, stopping in front of him. Synn dropped his arm from supporting his head. The Boss motioned something with his hand and suddenly one of the security men unfolded a chair and placed it behind him. Synn looked at it confused, wondering where it came from. He brushed it off when the ld took a seat.

"Lets get straight to the point, shall we?" He said cooly, following it up with a pleasant smile. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of him. Synn looked at him bored, however. "You are a very successful employee of mine, possibly one of the most successful ones in quite a while, despite your age. So, why is it that I'm hearing you have gone and murdered eight men of mine?" His tone was still cool, though evidently false. This man was furious. Synn made sure not to cut eye contact with him, knowing he would be able to tell he was lying.

"Possibly because its the truth" Synn said flatly. Two of the security gymuards by the door looked at eachother nervously, wondering if this young lad has a death wish. The boss stared at him for a moment, before smirking and leaning backnin his chair.

"I like you Synn. Thats why I've always let it slide how you choose your victims from my list instead of just doing what you were brought in to do. I like your little touch of art work you leave behind, have you ever thought about doing it for a living?" The man questioned. Synn couldn't really tell where he was going with this at all. He was playing it awfully cool.

"Murder or art?" Synn replied. He laughed at him. Synn continued to stare. Eventually he piped down.

"I'll tell you what Synn, I think you're getting too comfortable. I've been too lenient with you. Since I'm eight men down thanks to you, you're gonna have to step up your game, or else the next time you walk into this room, you won't be walking out. You don't get to choose your victims, we send out the list, and you take every chance you got" The mans tone was flat, though Synnbwas no fool. He could hear the warning in it. For the first time since he stepped foot in here, Synn looked away from his boss, not at all happy with the consequences of his own actions.