Chapter Text
He found that compiling his nail clippings in a little baggie the company had provided was disgusting. Not weird, but disgusting.
He had the baggie of nail clippings in the right pocket of his slacks, where it would be used later for the final stage of his interview process. Finally, he thought. He would be part of a program that actually valued him, that saw his usefulness. He knew he was well qualified for the job–he had skills, after all, and his previous mentors had always seen his potential.
There were 2 other male candidates in the small waiting room they were ushered in, and they were wearing tailored suits. It made him feel less prepared, seeing he only came in a clean button-down shirt and slacks. It didn’t matter, though, because he knew that looking the part wasn’t what they wanted from a potential candidate–they wanted someone who could contribute, and he knew he could do that better than anyone.
Rookie or not, he had this in the bag.
Finally, they called in his number, and he was instructed to go inside an even tinier room. The room was dimly lit, illuminated by a vertical flat screen that sat in the middle of the room, with a chair facing in front of it. He sat in the chair, which provoked the screen to change into its very first prompt.
>INSERT NAIL CLIPPINGS HERE.
Below the vertical screen, a little cabinet suddenly popped out, which exactly fit the size of the baggie. He took out the baggie from his right pocket, and placed it inside the cabinet neatly. The cabinet shut close immediately, which resulted to the screen to reveal its second prompt.
>WELCOME. PLEASE ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTIONS AS HONESTLY AS YOU CAN.
“Okay,” he said. “Do we start now…or?”
It was then that he noticed a lens shaped device was mounted on top of the vertical screen. Of course. The company was always like this—always watching.
>HOW TALL ARE YOU?
He cleared his throat. “Um, five foot eleven inches.”
The screen changed to another prompt.
>WHAT IS YOUR ETHNICITY?
“White?” He took some more time to think. “Well, more specifically, Italian American.”
>WHAT IS YOUR PREVIOUS WORK EXPERIENCE?
“Raccoon City Police Department. I graduated from the academy when I was 21, but I only worked as a cop for one day. Then, USSTRATCOM recruited me, but I was let go after a couple of years.”
>HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU KILLED, AND IF SO, HOW MANY?
He raised his brow at the question. “None. B.O.W.S. though, as many as you can count.”
>WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOOD?
He smiled at the randomness of the question. “A cheeseburger.”
>WHAT IS YOUR WORST QUALITY?
He took a while to think about this question before he gave his answer. He had to be completely 100% honest, or else lose the opportunity for this job. He hated admitting the truth, especially if he had to hear it.
He gulped. Here goes nothing. “I had an ex-girlfriend tell me I was irresponsible sometimes, and that I was too quick to judge on things. If I remember correctly, she also hated that I used alcohol to deal with my personal problems.”
He had to take a deep breath after admitting all that. His hands were slightly shaking. It’s just a computer, he told himself. Shake it off.
>ARE YOU WILLING TO RELOCATE?
He had rehearsed the answer to this question so many times in his head, because he needed to convince himself of his answer. “Yes. Nothing’s holding me down, honestly.”
>THANK YOU FOR YOUR HONESTY. WE WILL BE IN CONTACT.
The screen slowly turned black, resulting to the room turning almost pitch black. This was his cue to go. He took a beat before standing up from his seat, confused as to what to do next.
“Okay…I guess it’s time for me to go then,” he said to himself. He opened the door to exit the tiny room. He could only hope he was what they wanted.
She had a baggie of nail clippings stashed in her tiny designer bag, which she had reserved to use only for special occasions. Today was the final stage of her interview with the company, and it was a very special day. The result of this interview was going to determine her future, and if her skills were to be put to use somewhere else, where she knew it was going to be valued.
She was dressed to kill. She had on a red button-down shirt tucked in a slender black pencil skirt, with matching stilettos. The other women in the waiting room with her looked professional in their monotone suits and slacks. She took pride that she chose a bolder look, as it made her stand out.
She basked in red (it was always her lucky color) and it gave her the confidence she needed to get this job.
Finally, they called her number, and she was instructed to go in an even tinier room. The room was dimly lit, illuminated by a vertical flat screen that sat in the middle of the room, with a chair facing in front of it. She sat in the chair, and as she crossed her legs, the screen automatically changed into its very first prompt.
>INSERT NAIL CLIPPINGS HERE.
Below the vertical screen, a little cabinet suddenly popped out, which exactly fit the size of the baggie. With her manicured fingers, she took out the baggie from her tiny designer bag, and placed it inside the cabinet neatly. The cabinet shut close immediately, which resulted to the screen to reveal its second prompt.
>WELCOME. PLEASE ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTIONS AS HONESTLY AS YOU CAN.
She shrugged. She had already noticed the lens shaped device mounted on top of the vertical screen. She knew they were watching her every move.
“I’m ready.”
>HOW TALL ARE YOU?
“Five foot seven inches.”
The screen changed to another prompt.
>WHAT IS YOUR ETHNICITY?
“Asian. Chinese-American, to be more specific.”
>WHAT IS YOUR PREVIOUS WORK EXPERIENCE?
“I had worked previously for a company as one of their operatives. But after that I went freelance, and I took jobs from different employers depending on what they pay me.”
>HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU KILLED, AND IF SO, HOW MANY?
Nosey, she thought. “Interesting question. But I suppose it’s a given for this job. Ten…or eleven, I think.”
>WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOOD?
“That’s a hard one. I really like food. Peking Duck is one. I also like a well made truffle risotto. Occasionally, I do enjoy Korean barbecue.”
>WHAT IS YOUR WORST QUALITY?
She took a deep breath before answering the question. It was not easy being honest, but she would rather say things it in front of a computer than face a panel of interviewers and have them prod her brain.
“I was once told I was cold, manipulative, and calculating. Qualities which I think are perfect for this job, no?”
>ARE YOU WILLING TO RELOCATE?
Easy peasy. She gave the computer a reassuring smile. “Of course.”
>THANK YOU FOR YOUR HONESTY. WE WILL BE IN CONTACT.
The screen slowly turned black, resulting to the room turning almost pitch black. This was her cue to go. They were done with her, so she guessed that she was done with them, too.
“Good chat,” she said to the computer, but it was more to herself. She opened the door to exit the tiny room. She knew she had the job.
A week after the interview, he received a letter with various numbers. He didn’t need to be a genius to figure out they were coordinates, and based from the font the letter used, it seemed to be from the company.
He prepared his things—he stashed in his suitcase the most important things in his life: a picture of his parents, his mementos from the Academy, some cash and his usual clothes. He didn’t own much. He didn’t own enough to plant himself permanently in one place. He thought that maybe this job would give him the permanence in life that he had always wanted.
He set out to the location a day after the letter was sent, which turned out to be a three-day drive. He had used his old beat-up truck to reach his destination, which had served him well. He didn’t know if the company would let him keep it. He desperately wished they did. The company had a set of particular rules—nothing from his past must be brought into the job.
A clean slate was necessary to become a Smith.
His phone beeped to signal his arrival to his destination. He had expectations of the job, but he had not expected a grand house in the middle of the city to be his headquarters. He parked the truck, stepped off and climbed up the stairs leading to a grand mahogany wood door, which was conveniently left unlocked for him.
The house was decorated with expensive modern art paintings, with a scattering of plants in various corners, and wooden furniture that matched the house’s doors and red-brick walls. It was homey enough, yet too fancy for his tastes. On one side of the first floor of the house was a bar with a wall of various selections of wines and alcohol. The kitchen was bigger than his old apartment, despite its old charm. The most impressive thing of the house was an old, classic elevator that led to the basement and the second floor, areas which were still unknown to him.
He wanted to explore more of the house, and upon approaching the elevator, the elevator suddenly dinged. It started rising on its own, and with it contained inside a woman in red.
The woman had drawn the gates of the elevator open before she noticed him. He stared at her for a couple of seconds, maybe a second too much. He couldn’t help it—her eyes were mesmerizing. She had the nicest brown eyes he’d ever seen—they were almost glass-like.
The woman in red cleared her throat, effectively breaking the trance.
“Hi,” she greeted, with a tight-lipped smile.
“Um, hi,” he croaked, and decided to offer his hand hurriedly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She shook his hand firmly. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
He was unsure with how to proceed, putting his hand at the back of his neck. “Can I…come in?”
She stepped aside to let him inside the elevator. “Yes. Yes, you may.”
“Thanks,” he smiled at her as he stepped inside the elevator.
He took a beat before introducing himself properly. “I’m John.”
She smiled. “I’m Jane.”