The Hitman and His Consort

XL - Flip

First Person P.O.V: PIERRE LOVANNÉ

[A day before]

There has to be some sort of curse or a jinx of some sort that got cast recently that’s got everyone living in Mariella labs to have their brain cells collectively reduced.

Otherwise, why would things like this continually happen? Why do they become dumber the more I educate them? Madeline was stolen three days ago, and that chimp had the audacity to steal my August, too. I wonder where they hid her now. Probably some damn, dark, and unsanitary basement filled with disgusting critters and spiders and ticks.

They must be looking for bigger troubles. They have made this thing personal. Stealing Madeline was a separate thing. I could forgive them for that. He was nearing the end of his life anyways, I’m pretty sure I can find another string body to keep testing the drugs under close supervision too.

I can’t find anyone who comes even close to understanding my words and personality, August did at the beginning, but they that stupid ‘killer’ had to come around and brainwash the poor thing.

And August, you see, my poor sweet August is kind of weak-minded. She’ll be easily driven and manipulated by literally everyone else, even before I got to know her. The first time we met, she was hanging at my every word. She’s like a fussy child who’s only waiting for orders to function. I’m not saying she’s stupid, on the contrary, she’s bright. Very bright, just mentally weak.

It breaks my heart to imagine the conditions August is placed in now.

Out of the safe premises of this lab, if I can even label this place safe after two f*cking k*dnappings, and both of them are VIP’s of the labs.

“Mr. Lovanné, Mr. Montreal wants to see you,” said Jacob’s secretary, awfully demanding and serving a lot of attitude despite being Montreal’s ‘relief’ woman. Sometimes I have to remind myself that Montreal is a friend whenever he does something moronically flawed and I get the urge to call his wife and tell him his husband is whoring about with his secretary who showed her plastic surgeon a blow-up doll as a reference.

I even like his wife, Wendell definitely deserves better, and she’s probably tried poisoning him with rat poison before, but backed out for the same reason I haven’t ratted him out yet,

‘Pft—“ratted-out”,’

Then again, yes, Montreal still gives me enough money to keep with the Hercules project. Why Dr. Becking abandoned this project is beyond me, but at the same time, I’m glad he did, because then I can take over and it will be my and August’s names that will be attributed to the next best discovery that mankind had ever achieved.

Just thinking about this brings me jitters all over my body. I love humans.

She led me throughout the labs and to his glass-walled corner office, or as I like to call it, his little *sshole corner where he b*tches about things that no one could control or at least be able to if they weren’t given instructions by a walking quarter pounder and sloppy joe hybrid.

The secretary opened the door, and there he is, all in his blob fish-like glory, smiling at me as he exhaled a cloud of smoke from his designer cigar.

“Pierre, sit down son,” he said, gesturing to the chair right in front of his desk. Too bad. I prefer the one behind it,

“Mr. Montreal, how commendable for you to still smile even above this chaos, you must teach me all these adult composure sorcery, I don’t know how you could keep cool,” I replied as I made myself comfortable on the chair.

“Oh please, you won’t learn anything from me that you hadn’t already known, however, what I’m about to suggest might just be able to do the trick,” he replied, adding a wink to the mix that it made me genuinely curious as to what this old man will pull again, and how can I stop him because his suggestions are all sh*tty by nature.

“Oh my, always the one with solutions, Mr. Montreal,” I praised, it’s not real but it’ll mean something to him. He’s a people pleaser, which is disappointing for his age.

“Yes…But I’m, afraid this one I’ll need you to put under close consideration, how about instead of hunting these criminals with the aid of the authorities who doesn’t even know where the start the search,” he trailed off, tapping the ash off from his cigar,

“How about hunting them down with people who’d know where to look,” he finished with a single brow raised,

And I am just f*cking losing it—Is this really Jacob Montreal?! The same man who thinks donkeys could just be a substitute for a human test subject?!

“Oh, my goodness…” I gasped with a smile. That was brilliant! I can’t believe I haven’t thought of that first, that was the next best thing, we might have to tweak and prepare specified adjustments but that’s a good start,

“No good?”

“No goo—Jacob, this is great, that’s a good idea! Amazing! I didn’t know you had that in you!”

“I’m sorry?”

“We need to pull through with this little suggestion, this is a good start, I’m sure we can find someone for the job, I have some connections, and…” I trailed off as a plan formulated itself in my head, yes this is good. I’m finally feeling better. Someone finally put their brains into use.

I was getting worried because no one seemed to be able to do just that, and here he is, the president and my current favorite person, able to serve something worthwhile in such trying times. I was thinking more along the lines of personally accompanying the authorities in the search. However, I’ll be honest, I was reluctant with that little stunt.

After all, I don’t know how the lowest scums of society worm their way around the upstanding members of society.

“Mr. Lovanné I must say—“

“Oh, you’ve said the right amount of words Mr. Montreal, from here on out I will just carry out your plan, your brilliant little plan, I’ll take it from here,” I interjected as I nodded to him, clasping my hands with anticipation and left his office.

I’ll need to contact an acquaintance with this one. I fished my phone from my coat pocket and dialed the number of Solace Green, a woman who lives in a void darker than the black marker during Halloween. She’s known to work a secret business that requires them to ‘remove’ some troubles or obstacles in the way of proceeding with their transactions. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have the manpower nor skills to perform that act correctly.

‘There must be some intricate procedure for those that I must learn so I’d be able to do it by myself,’

The call pulled through after a few rings, “Hello? Are you busy?” I greeted,

“Always, what is it Lovanné?” she replied, her tone as cold as I remember.

“Remember that company that you said was helping you with those ‘disposals’?” I began,

“Of course, it’d be bad if I forget them when I use their services regularly,” she affirmed, she never sounded like she’s in a good mood, whenever I meet or speak to her it’s just this monotone, if not harsh, voice greeting me back like I’m the most despicable man on Earth.

Which is offensive, considering I live in the same universe as Jacob Montreal.

“I see that icy cold tone of yours is still a delight that continues to shine upon the human race,” I joked. Maybe she’ll get the hint that she better fix that attitude,

“Yes, what do you want Lovanné,” It didn’t. Her tone remains cold, if not colder.

“Right, I need you to hook me up, I need some really good men because, as you heard from the news, my lab was infiltrated and a k*dnapping happened,” I explained,

I mean, I did tell the media that August was a dangerous individual if not under close supervision and medication, and played it out as her running away just because I don’t want to bring the attention to the labs, August will understand. I told them that upon arrest, she should be detained and not harmed.

“I don’t watch the news, Lovanné, but nevertheless I could give you the number and you could work your way from there,” she replied. She’s not even going to come with me? What if those animals do something to me?

“What—you'll make me go alone?” I asked,

“Yes, now I’ll text you the number and stop calling as I’ve told you before, I am always busy, goodbye, Lovanné,” she said and the end call beep was the only thing I heard.

Damn that b***h, won’t even get a decent and useful person around and the most I could get out of her is a phone number, I can’t just stroll in wherever this sketchy company is settled by myself, neither can I bring the guards I’ve recently hired for Arthur because one has proven very much so that they're not worth all that money I spent to have them around.

‘Sh*t, I don’t want to do this but I have no other choice, I’ll have to contact Linaye,’

I hate that woman, so damn full of herself. She might be one of the biggest investors but she acts like she funds the whole damn project and it wasn’t me who promised that the military will get their fill of project Hercules’ miraculous results, but I’d understand why Dr. Becking made that deal with them. If anything, it was clever.

A new message notification came and there it is, a phone number. This is going to be tough. I dialed the number as I walked to my office, slightly smaller than Montreal’s, which is, in my opinion, bullsh*t. The call pulled through after a call and the surprisingly pleasant and light-toned voice of a woman greeted me.

“Greetings, you’ve reached the Étromm Liberty, how may I assist you today?” she asked,

“Yes, I would like to… book for a service I suppose,” I replied, and she hummed as I heard some keyboard clicks in the background,

“Uh-huh, have you known our services form a referral or an invitation?” she asked again, how meticulous of them. Did Solace give me the right number? This is way too professional and customer-friendly for a company that does what it does,

“From referral,”

“What would be the name of the person?”

“Uh…S-Solace? Solace Greens?” I replied, not sure if I just placed Solace in a tough situation, do they always ask for the real names?

“Okay, we’ve received the confirmation from Ms. Greens, can I know the nature of the service that you want to avail?” she replied, and I am just boggled. Did I just easily venture out into the world of organized crime? Was it that easy?

“Yes, I’ll need someone for… disposal,” I replied, having to word it out a sit. It still feels weird, I’m not like these people after all,

“Okay then sir, if you could just send us your email and sign the contract for the job, a representative will contact you shortly, review the details and we’ll deliver the person perfect for the job,” she explained, like we were just talking about repairing a broken T.V.

“That would be splendid, yes, I’ll do just that, thank you,” I replied. Her peppy yet court tone was a huge refresher after a phone call with Solace.

“Your welcome, and please remember, there’s no better way to live this world other than liberated, this has been Cath from Étromm Liberty,” and the call ended.

Oh, my gosh… they have a tagline too?! That was so satisfying, I felt like the phone call I just had loosened my back muscles that were stiff from carrying this whole lab; I texted them my email and not even a minute in and an agent already contacted me, along with an attached contract.

I will read everything in there, that’s for sure. They might have a peppy girl in their reception area but this is still a business that needs people who kill people to function. I won’t take my chances.

And neither should they.