The walls on the apartment hallway were peeling and damp with mold. Filling the air with his cigarette smoke, Y walked down the hallway glaring at each door number until he found his target; 6A. He stopped and knocked three times. Some noise could be heard before the door opened and a slim middle aged man was standing before Y. “You Y?” the man asked. Y smiled and nodded, “Yes sir.” The man let Y in. Y tossed his cigarette aside and headed for the couch. He waved at a woman standing at the kitchen doorway. She gave him a nasty look but kept quiet. Y shrugged it off and sat down. The man stood across the coffee table, “You have it?” Y dug in his inner coat pocket and pulled out a black rectangular box. He set it down on the table and slid it to the man. The man picked up the box and opened it. Resting in a velvety cloth were a number of glowing green shards. He let out a chuckle and closed the box, “You want something to drink?” Y shook his head, “I want my money.” The man reached into his pocket. A sudden noise came from his wife. Y and the man both looked over at her. She looked flustered. “Isn’t this enough already!? Those damned drugs are just gonna get us in trouble! And you’re even bringing in this random man in here. He could be a cop!” She yelled. Y let out a hearty laugh, “You know she has a point.” The man began laughing just as hard as he walked over to his wife. He pulled out a gun and rested it on her head. The laughter stopped and a deep silence filled the room. He cocked the gun and pressed it deeper against her head. “I don’t rememb-” A loud creak interrupted him. He turned around and saw Y standing a few inches from him. A pipe wrench dropped from Y’s sleeve. Y raised his arm and brought down the wrench with great force onto the man’s head. At the same time the man managed to get a shot into Y’s abdomen. The man dropped like a ragdoll and Y stumbled back. He pulled the bullet out of his vest and went through the man’s pockets. “You asshole! Did you kill him?!” The wife shouted. Y ignored her and grabbed the money from the man. He split off a portion of bills from the stack and reached out to the wife. “Sorry for the trouble, honestly.” Her hands shaking, she grabbed the money. Y headed for the door. He stopped and looked at the box on the table, then back at the wife who seemed to care more about the money than her husband. He grabbed the box and slid it in his jacket. Y walked out the door and back down the damp and peeling hallway. I hate this job, he thought to himself, lighting up a cigarette.

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