Today I have an exclusive guest post for a book that won’t be out until closer to the end of the year. Parker Williams’ Haven’s Creed is currently in edits so be on the look out for more information on his website and Facebook account (links below). Haven stops by to talk about a typical day for him. His kind of a typical day is extremely different than mine. However, his job is slightly different than they typical 9-5 day. Read and enjoy!
A typical day in my life? I don’t know that I have typical days. It all depends on if Rook has an assignment for me. If he doesn’t, I could be working out, studying, relaxing by the koi pond, or out getting laid. Hell, on a good day, I’ll cover all of them.
But, if Rook does have a job for me, then there isn’t any time for the things I enjoy in my downtime.
I’m a very methodical man. Let me give you a for instance how one of my jobs goes.
Rook gives me all the necessary information on my target. I learn everything I’m able to from the paperwork, but that doesn’t tell me the whole story. I go wherever the job takes me, then I stalk my target. If it sounds animalistic, it pretty much is. It’s important that they not get spooked. I don’t have the desire to chase them at all. Who the hell knows where they’d end up? I don’t relish the idea of putting a bullet in someone’s head in the middle of a crowded restaurant. I mean, really, who wants to have brains splattered all over their meal? Talk about an appetite killer. So I follow them. I learn their habits, the people in their lives, what they spend their time doing. I try never to act in haste if I can, because that could make me sloppy, and in this line of work, sloppy is just a step up from being dead. But even following them, I don’t learn everything I need, so I talk to people. Ask them about my target, see how popular he or she is. Then I plan on how to get them alone, cut off from their group. In that, I’m very much the predator. I want them alone, frightened, and to see the fear in their eyes when they learn what I’m there for.
I take my time when I finally have them where I want them. My targets are the worst of the worst. Even animals have more scruples than the bastards I’m after. And they need to understand why they’re about to die. No one should die without knowing why, right?
Let’s take my last assignment. Guy injected rat poison into baby formula over three counties. The product was pulled form the shelf, but not before six kids died from it. When the police arrested him, they were forced to let him go because the rookie didn’t give him his Miranda rights. So he gets off and now the law can’t touch him.
But I’m not the law, and the organization I work for doesn’t follow the same set of rules.
According to Rook, Quentin Jaworsky used to work with children in a daycare. He was fired because he became physically abusive with a little girl named Anna. He frightened her so badly, she wet herself. When she told her mother what Quentin had done, she sued the daycare center. Quentin blamed Anna and her family for his losing his job, and somehow in his addled brain, that equated with need to punish children. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t have time for my normal routine, because Rook put Jaworsky’s life under the microscope and found he had a violent history. The daycare center deserved to be sued for hiring the sick fuck.
I went to his home one night, and slipped in under cover of darkness. I found him passed out in his bed, dead to the world, so to speak. I tied his arms and legs to the bed and then slapped him until he woke up. Oddly, he wasn’t very happy to see me. Not that I cared, mind you.
“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.
“Let’s just say I’m someone who doesn’t like the fact that they let you go after what you did to those kids,” I answered, drawing a syringe from my bag.
“I didn’t do anything. It was that little bitch. If she had just kept her mouth shut—“
I slammed a fist into his gut, forcing the air from his lungs. “You talk only when spoken to. I don’t want to hear your voice.”
“Fuck you. You come into my home and threaten me with…what is that?”
I held the syringe and tapped it a few times. “This? Oh, it’s strychnine. See, I read the reports on what those kids went through before they died, and I figured I’d return the favor. This shit? It’s wicked. I’m going to inject you with it. About ten to twenty minutes after, your muscles are going to begin to spasm, starting with the head and neck area. Then it will spread throughout your body, with pretty much continuous convulsions, which will get worse every time you react to them. Those convulsions? They’re going to get worse, you know. Pains so sharp your backbone is going to continuously arch, which will make everything that much worse. In the end, death comes from asphyxiation, as the neural pathways that control breathing shut down, either from paralysis or exhaustion from the convulsions. You’ll have about two, maybe three hours to get loose and find medical treatment, or you’re going to die.”
His eyes went wide, and he began struggling against the bonds. He wouldn’t be going anywhere, though. Except to wherever Rook’s people took dead bodies. I never did ask, not really sure I want to know. They disappear and are never heard from or seen again, and that’s good enough for me.
I slid the needle into the artery of his leg and depressed the plunger, his body going rigid.
I looked at my watch, then smiled at him. “Tick tock, man.”
I turned to leave, because I hated the idea of watching a man puke. It always made my stomach queasy.
“Please, don’t do this. I got a family.”
And he did. A wife who divorced him because he was violent toward her and their kids, and now lived with relatives on the other side of the country. “So did those kids, and they’re never going to be forgotten by theirs either. Don’t worry, if you get away, you’ll see them again. If not, there will be some people here to clean up my mess.”
He was screaming and begging me to not let him die as I slipped out of the room, closing the door behind me.
“Have I ever told you that you’re a sadistic bastard?” Darth Vader’s voice intoned.
“Am I missing something here?”
“The body of one Quentin Jaworsky was removed from his home at 0900 hours by the medical examiner—mine—and won’t be found again. She tells me that he choked to death on his own vomit. The Mequon police and ME are trying to figure out where it ended up, but that’s not likely to happen.”
“Where do you take the bodies?”
“Need to know basis, and you don’t. Be happy I have people who clean up after you, because of all our operatives, you make the biggest messes.”
Rook sighed. “And you’ve got the best record.”
A fact that I could be proud of. Because in many ways,when they hired me for this job, I became a line in the sand. I couldn’t protect everyone, of course, but those I couldn’t save, I would avenge. One way or another.
Parker Williams believes that true love exists, but it always comes with a price. No happily ever after can ever be had without work, sweat, and tears that come with melding lives together.
Living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Parker held his job for nearly 28 years before he decided to retire and try new things. He enjoys his new life as a stay-at-home author and also working on Pride-Promotions, an LGBT author promotion service.