Everbody likes a good secret, myself included. Who’s screwing who, who’s taking a little off the top, no matter what it is, everybody’s got their own little secret. Myself included.
I have more than one secret, you might say that I’m a collector of sorts. People come to me with their secrets, and I take those secrets off their hands and out of their minds. It’s an even trade; I take some of theirs but they have to live with some of mine.
Take this chap that I’m looking at currently, I know his little secret and he’s about to know some of mine. You see, he doesn’t know that I’m even here, or that I made it past his security with my rifle. He doesn’t know that a 7.62mm round will hit him with enough force to cause hydrostatic shock, where his own blood will be forced through his veins with enough pressure to rupture his cells.
I have so many secrets, and so little time. My finger tightens on the trigger as a rueful smile lights my face.
Secrets secrets are no fun unless there shared with everyone