FicWad

I flattened my suit and finger-brushed my hair into place one last time as I climbed the stairs of the left wing. Gerard said that entrance would get me to the main database faster than the main entrance.

I am official. I am official.

The security keypad flashed red in front of me, and my palms started to sweat. Even though I had hacked these things a million times before, I was half-worried that the White House’s presumably advanced technology just might get the best of me.


“Shit…”

I grabbed the screwdriver in my coat pocket, and carefully removed the front panel. A few fairly basic wire switches and nicks, and I was in. I placed the panel back on and screwed it in before pushing the large door open.

I walked along the corridor, having to remind myself to hold my head high and puff my chest out like all the other official bastards that work here. What am I, anyway? I’m a filing guy. Right.

Now where’s the damn database?

“Excuse me…” I said to the first man I passed. “Any way you could point me towards the database? I’m new here, and-“

“Right that way. When you get to the end of this corridor, take a left and it’s your fifth door on the right.” He answered impatiently, as if he had a million places he had to be. “I didn’t know they were hiring.”


“I’m a filing assistant.” I laughed, praying I was coming off as casual enough to be convincing. “Third day on the job.”

“Ah, guess that’s why I haven’t seen you around here. I’ve been off the past two days. Did I get your name already?”

Well that was freakishly coincidental.

“Uh- I don’t believe so. It’s James. James Wakeling.”

“Nice to meet you, Wakeling. I’m Rob Anderson, finance analyst.” He said, reaching out to shake my hand.

“The pleasure’s mine.” I laughed a s I shook his hand. “I gotta get going, see you around!”

We parted ways and I carried down the corridor, quite proud of how well I managed to fool him.

Either that, or the guy’s a fine fucking idiot.


I followed his directions and soon arrived at a door labelled “Tech/Data”. This door, unlike the first one I encountered, had a keyhole instead of a security pad. Old-fashioned and not what I was expecting, but a hell of a lot more convenient on my part. There’s no way I could’ve gotten away with removing the security pad panel out in the open here; but the average person can’t tell a universal key from a specified one.

Thank you, thank you, thank you Gerard.

I grabbed the key out of my pocket, unlocked the door and slid in, closing it gently behind me. The room I was now in was smaller than what I had pictured; oddly similar to the computer room back in the bar. The computer itself was smaller and more technologically advanced, by the looks of it. That in itself could be either really good or horribly bad news for me.

I locked the door behind me and prayed nobody was going to try to get in for the next few minutes. As soon as I was sure the door was as secure as it was going to get, I rushed over to the computer, sat down in the chair, and got to work. The interfacing was, again, similar to that of the bar computer. Definitely more high-tech, but from first glance, nothing to worry about. In a matter of minutes, I had gotten myself to the coding screen, which, to my horror, was blank.

“Fuck… fuck…” I whispered to myself.

I grabbed the phone from my pocket and dialed Gerard’s, which he had programmed into mine earlier.


“Gerard.” I hissed, panicking. “The coding screen is blank.”

“What?”

“There’s no hint. I’ve never run into this before, I don’t know what to do-“

“What’s your alibi?”

“I’m James Wakeling; third day on the job as a filing assistant.”

“Shit, a filing assistant wouldn’t need to get into the main database…”

For the first time since I met him, he sounded worried. Shocked, even.

“Okay Frank, I need you to listen to me very carefully.” He said hesitantly. “Get out of there. Go find someone in an isolated part of the building.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“I need you to hold them at gunpoint. Tell them that unless they get you into the database, you’ll shoot.”

“Gerard, I can’t fucking kill.” I cried. “I’m not-“

“A killer. I know. You won’t have to shoot, I c an assure you. They’ll get you in. Just make sure they don’t go and tell anyone once you’re in.”

“But they’ll see my face, and-“

“Frank.” He said exasperatedly. “Just trust me on this one. I wouldn’t steer you wrong, I promise.”

Funny thing is, I believe him.

“Okay. Bye.”


I hung up and got myself out of the room before anyone else had the chance to come in. I wandered the corridors until I found my victim; a short, thin middle-aged woman.

“Excuse me, miss.” I said, painting a friendly smile across my face. “I’m new here… could you by any chance show me where the washrooms are?”

“Oh, of course!” She said in a motherly tone.

Never underestimate the maternal instincts of a middle-aged women whose kids have long grown up.

“Right this way.”

The washrooms turned out to be only about a minute’s walk away. To my delight, the area was pretty deserted, other than the few surrounding rooms. I plunged my hand into my pocket and got a hold on Gerard’s pistol.

I’m not this person. I’m not.

I grabbed the woman’s arm and dragged her into the men’s bathroom, locking the door behind me. Before she had time to scream, I took the gun out and aimed it straight at her.

“Wh-What-“ She whimpered, tears filling her eyes.

“Make a noise and I’ll shoot.” I growled. “Get me into the main database, now.”

“Y-Y-Yes…” She whispered.

I put the gun away and followed her as she led me back to the data room with scared, robotic steps. As Frank, I felt bad for doing this to her and putting her in this position when she did nothing to deserve it. But as the cold-hearted mafia man, I knew that I had no choice. I left my choice in the dust back when I decided to take this lifestyle on as my own.

She sat down at the computer just as I had only minutes earlier, and got me into the database with ease.

“H-Here… please don’t hurt me.” She cried.

“Tell anyone, and I can’t promise anything. Keep your fucking mouth shut, and no blood will be shed today.”

A+, Frank.

“O-Okay.”

She left the room, and from there, my job was a piece of cake. Two minutes to get into the profiling center, erase my profile and edit history, and I was out of there.


“Good job, kid.” Gerard said as I got back into the car; sweat dripping down my brow and my suit and hair dishevelled. “That went well.”

“But they fucking saw me, and-“

“Frank. Think about everything that happened in there.” He instructed. “You covered all your tracks. No fingerprints, no profiling data, and you did what you had to quickly and thoroughly. You’re good – for now, at least.”

“I’m so glad I didn’t have to shoot her.” I panted. “I’m no killer, Gerard.”

He placed his hand gently on mine for a second, and looked up at me with a smile.

“I know.”


We drove off once again; I didn’t know where to, but I didn’t care. I no longer have a place to call home. Chicago is long gone from my life, and the bar back in heaven knows where is only a temporary stay-place. The more time passed though, the more I started to get used to the idea. As long as I have one stable thing in my life – Gerard – I think I’ll be okay. He said back there that he wouldn’t steer me wrong, and when I think back on the time I’ve spent with him so far… he’s right.

When he first abducted me, the first few days were rough. He made me want to slit his throat, and at the same time, cower in a corner and cry out of fear. But now I’m starting to see that it was all a fucking image; a ploy, to make me scared of the big tough mafia guy. Not the man that Gerard actually is. Parts of that big tough mafia guy still seep through every once in a while, but he’s torn down the walls enough for me to see that he’s nothing more than human. And that human has kept me alive to this day, even when his image dictates that he should have killed me long ago.

And humans are fragile… more so than anything else in this whole damn world.


“Gerard, why didn’t you kill me?” I asked from the back seat.

He didn’t answer for a few seconds.

“You were more of a challenge than I’m used to. Often, my victims just do whatever I tell them to do… they lose their own sense of self and become whoever I want them to. Those are the ones I rarely let live, because you don’t get attached to an empty shell.” He explained; although I did sense some hesitation in his voice. “You challenged me, even when you were scared. You didn’t let fear become you. You spend enough time in my position with a person like that, and you kinda… fuck, you wouldn’t understand-“

“Yeah, I get it.” I said, unsure of what to say next.

“You made me wonder if maybe I wasn’t as good at my job as I always perceived myself to be. And you made me realize how damn lonely I am; you get used to going at it alone, essentially, with nothing more than that same empty shell beside you. Then you come along, and remind me what it’s like to be with a human. And I-“

“Gerard.” I said. “Red light.”

“Oh, shit!”

He slammed on the breaks just in time.

“You were saying?” I prompted, wanting to return to our original conversation.

Which apparently he was enjoying just as much; judging by the way his mind presumably wasn’t on the road.

“It’s nothing.” He laughed weakly. “You said you get it, anyway.”