“Okay, but you didn’t have to kill it!”
Blood oozed lazily from the purple-gray body on the floor.
“You really have no say, dude,” said the big one. “You know why ‘m in this line of work? To mutilate ’em. To turn ’em into fuckin’ messages, too. ‘Planet’s ours, stay away.’ But mostly to mutilate ’em.”
The thin one spun and got through the door with a quick, nervous gait. “And not just ‘em,” said the big one as he followed calmly. “One day you’ll slip, man. And that day, you know who they’re gonna ask to kill you? Me, that’s who.”
They got into the car. The thin one briefly mentioned to the big one the fact they’d need to call Section One for cleanup. They looked at each other for a moment, then the thin man sighed and started juggling his cell phone while steering out of the motel’s parking.
The thin man cursed the fact Section Seventeen could blackmail him into chasing aliens. He basically had to surrender his life to secret service work. The only way out, dead. He cried to sleep every night.