The Thrills of the Job -͟͟͞☆
Word Count: 1,192
It's a short lil thing, something I've been working on a while lmao. Basically just a normal day in the life of Shadow Company operations.
“If I didn’t know you well, I’d say you ain’t really happy now, are ya?” A cocky, very tied down Commander Phillip Graves said, his tone mocking. The man standing in front of him, a tall, dark, angry-looking merc, groaned in annoyance, the back of his hand flying before hitting Phillip’s face a second later.
Graves didn’t flinch. The taste of blood flooded his mouth, but he didn’t reward the man with a reaction. After all, the act in itself was not a surprise. Instead, he shifted in his seat, testing his wrists a little around the cuffs locking his hands together behind his back, eyebrows knitting together in an all too familiar expression of disdain.
“Yeah. Guess not.”
“Shut up, you son of a bitch.” The merc growled, glaring down at him with real, unfiltered annoyance. Two hours. He'd been left to tend to that cocky cowboy project of a contractor for two hours now, and he was starting to lose his patience. He leaned in, pulling Graves by the collar of his bloodied shirt, eyes narrowing a little as he delivered his threat. “You open that mouth one more time, I cut off your tongue. Got it?”
“Oh?” Phillip raised an eyebrow, seeming pleasantly amused by the situation. “And here I thought all your boss wanted was for me to talk. About that botched deal, maybe? Was I wrong? God damn it.”
The mercenary’s fingers curled up into a tight fist.
“Told you to shut the hell up!”
He backed away, lifting his hand without even realizing it, hitting Graves with more strength this time. That earned a small chuckle from Graves. He did not sound even remotely bothered by his situation, which only served to fuel the man’s rage.
“Did I strike a nerve?” He completely ignored the aggressive orders to shut it, seemingly taking pleasure in the fact that his voice annoyed the poor bastard to no end. “I’m sorry, toots. Gonna try being more considerate of your feelings.”
The mercenary glared at him, his mind undoubtedly playing out yet another heavy slap to that mouthy bastard’s face, but he held it back. Barely. He had to remind himself that he was only meant to watch his prisoner, not to damage the goods any further. The merc almost smiled at the thought that, when the boss arrived for a real chat, Graves would swallow that little bratty behavior of his along with a few of his own teeth.
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” The man snarled, getting into Phillip’s personal space again. “Not so clever as to avoid capture, huh?”
To his dismay, Graves’ smile turned into a grin. A grin that was all teeth.
“But—” He made a dramatic pause, as a professor would during a lecture. “I was clever enough to airlift that cargo right under your nose, wasn’t I? After your boss offered me less than half of what it was worth.”
Graves learned forward, his expression was a mix of pride and disdain, and said, voice heavy with mock pity:
“So... are we still keeping score here, darlin’? Because the situation ain’t looking very good for you and your boys to me.”
Oh, that was it. The mercenary’s left eye twitched. He lunged forward, fingers clamping around Graves’ throat, tipping the chair back.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He squeezed harder, not caring if his fingers would leave a mark. He wanted that man dead. “Do you have a death wish?! Is that it?!”
“Can’t… say I do… no.” Phillip managed to say between gritted teeth, and the merc softened his grip when he heard those words. He did not let go, though. The idea of strangling Graves was just too tempting.
Phillip looked away from the mercenary as if he were… thinking of something, making the man believe that their discussion was over. However, a split second later, Graves looked back up with a pout.
“I got it, son. I hate you, you hate me. But, if I am to be honest... we wouldn’t even be here right now if you’d been smart enough to figure out I was playing ya’ll from the beginning. Guess that means you’re not exactly the observant kind.”
The chair wobbled in place as the merc let him go before he did something he would regret. The sound of another slap cracked against Phillip’s face. He opened his mouth a little to try and ignore the pain.
“But damn if you ain’t got a strong hand on ya…”
“You’re lucky the boss wants to have a word with you, asshole.” The mercenary wrinkled his nose, turning his back and stomping toward the door. He’d had enough for one night. “Or else you'd be minced meat by now.”
A soft click of Graves’ tongue echoed in the silence.
“Oh, I wouldn’t turn your back on me so quickly if I were you.” Graves drawled from behind him, condescending as the devil himself. “It never ends well.”
The merc scoffed, feeling genuine amusement for the first time since he ended up stuck guarding that idiot. Never ends well? Tough talk from a tied-up cowboy. Laughable, even. It was actually surprising to see that Shadow Company had managed to last so damn long in the market with leadership like that.
Pathetic.
The mercenary shook his head in disbelief, twisting the handle. The door swung open. His eyes widened in recognition, just for a split second, before a silenced pistol was pressed against his skull, his time to react completely robbed of him by the surprise attack. He was dead before his body even hit the floor.
“Boys, you're late.” Phillip Graves sang out, looking up at the Shadows pouring inside his cell, sweeping the place for danger with their rifles. “I took… three slaps or something since I got here. Ouch.”
“You were heavily guarded, sir.” One of the men approached him, holstering his weapon before picking the lock on Graves’ handcuffs. The metallic sound of them clattering to the floor echoed in the room. “What did you do this time?”
“It was nothing, Vance.” The Commander’s tone was dismissive, as usual. He stood up, massaging his sore wrists. “Just another bad client.”
One of his men offered him a rifle, which he took without hesitation. He tested the weapon’s weight and balance, inspecting it quickly for functionality before gesturing ahead.
“Thanks for the save, boys. Better late than never.” He said cheerfully, as if the past two hours in captivity had not happened at all. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here, yeah?”
“Yup yup!”
That little chorus never failed to make him smile.
“Good. Glad I can always count on you, Shadows.” He patted an operator on the back as they filed out, casually glancing down at the body splayed out on the floor with a small, eerily apologetic smile on his lips. “Told ya not to turn your back on me, didn’t I?”
