~One For the Road~
Rated R
Chapter One: Nicholas Robert Caulfield
It went against everything he was ever taught as a child. But when he first started The Job, he found ways to justify his actions. These people were greedy, manipulative, cunning, murderers, thieves, and con artists. He was doing the world a favour. He was the righteous one.
It didn't change the fact that he was, essentially, a murderer.
He had killed, without blinking an eye. He was numb to it now.
He had to be.
His friends knew him as Chandler Bing, a slightly dorky, sardonic office drone, whose biggest problem was that he couldn't commit.
Sometimes he would become absorbed in that world. And lately, he was beginning to wish that he really were Chandler Bing.
The worst part was that he felt that by staying in one place, he was putting Chandler's friends---his friends, at risk. He had enemies, that much he knew, but his greatest advantage at this point was that none of them knew what he looked like---and they were after Nicholas, not Chandler.
He blinked, and focused, shaking his head slowly. If he let his mind wander, he'd end up dead. He peered through the sight of his rifle, and saw that the gates of the Embassy were opening slowly. He settled onto the floor of the hotel, and aimed the rifle. In one swift motion, he pulled the trigger, slid down against the adjacent wall, disassembled and encased his weapon, and slipped out of the hotel room and onto the street.
It wasn't until he was inside his office, that he allowed himself to breathe. He quickly changed, and slipped on Chandler's suit and tie. He stowed his weapon, checked his messages, and made his way to the other side of town, and to his other life.
The office was a cover. As Nicholas, he only visited the office after hours, and always slipped in through the back door. Most of the people he worked with were clueless to the fact that he was a hit man. Two of his friends had even worked at his office for a short while. He had perfected the art of Chandler's life so well, that no one ever questioned it. As far as they knew, he had the world's most boring job.
He stepped off of the train, and out of the train station. Checking his watch, he wandered down the street, and into Chandler's apartment building.
Sometimes, he became so absorbed in his alter ego, he forgot who he was. It was about that time that he'd get a call, and he's get pulled back into the life he'd known for so long. He sighed as he opened his apartment door, content with the knowledge that, at least for tonight, he was Chandler Bing.
"Chandler, where have you been?"
~****~
He aimed his rifle into the night, and placed his finger on the trigger. He waited for the target to come into full view. Suddenly, a shot whizzed through the air, hitting the tree that stood above Nicholas's head.
"Shit," he mumbled, and rolled away from his spot on the ground. He quickly disassembled, and pulled out his handgun, before slipping into the woods.
He could feel the presence of the predator, but had yet to see a thing. He moved behind a tree, and cocked his handgun. He turned, just in time to feel the heat of a bullet whiz by his head. He pointed and fired. For a moment, there was silence, and Nicholas searched the darkness, looking for a sign that it was safe. He heard a rustling, and aimed his gun. A shadow moved, and he fired again. The shadow flinched, then collapsed. He turned and ran, not stopping until he reached his office.
He picked up his phone and dialed.
"It's me. There's been a breach. No, the job was intruded on. Yes. I'm laying low for a few days, I'll be in contact shortly."
Nicholas hung up the phone, and sighed. He quickly changed, and made his way back into Chandler's life.
*
"Hey, man," Ross said, as Chandler walked into the apartment.
"Hey," Chandler replied, and sunk into his recliner. He was exhausted! "Where's Joey?"
"On a date, I think. You want a beer?"
"Sure."
"Hey guys," the three girls walked into Chandler and Joey's apartment.
"Hey."
"You wanna go see a movie or something?" Phoebe asked.
"Yeah, sure," Ross shrugged.
"Uh, I think I'm gonna go to sleep," Chandler sighed, as he pivoted his chair toward the group.
"Aw, c'mon Chandler!" Monica smiled. Her smile quickly faded. "Chandler! You're bleeding!"
Chandler's eyes widened, and his hand went immediately to his burning temple.
"What happened?" Phoebe asked, as the group peered at him.
"Oh, uh, some guy on the train scraped me with his briefcase," Chandler laughed.
"Let me see," Monica said, as she leaned over and touched his face.
Chandler quickly flinched, and pulled away. He pushed past Monica, and stood up nervously.
"It's fine, Mon, don't worry about it," he smiled.
"But---"
"I'm fine, really," Chandler repeated, and walked into the bathroom.
"Dammit," he muttered, as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was getting careless. The incident earlier that night shook him up, and it shouldn't have. He sighed, and cleaned and dressed his wound, cursing his lax behavior the entire time.
~****~
"How are you feeling?" Monica asked the next day, as Chandler walked into the apartment.
"Fine. Listen, Mon, I'm uh, sorry about yesterday. I was tired, and I---"
"It's okay, Chandler. I promise not to take it personally," Monica laughed, and sunk into the sofa next to Chandler. She gingerly touched his temple.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not really," Chandler smiled.
"Hungry?"
"Eh," Chandler shrugged. Monica stood up and kissed his injured temple, before heading into the kitchen.
Chandler followed Monica with his eyes. She kissed him, and his heart jumped. This wasn't happening, he couldn't fall for her. Her life would be placed in jeopardy. That was why he'd broken it off with Kathy. He sighed, and decided that after all that had happened, it was time for him to relocate. He looked at Monica again, and sighed.
How was he going to walk away?
Rated R
Chapter One: Nicholas Robert Caulfield
It went against everything he was ever taught as a child. But when he first started The Job, he found ways to justify his actions. These people were greedy, manipulative, cunning, murderers, thieves, and con artists. He was doing the world a favour. He was the righteous one.
It didn't change the fact that he was, essentially, a murderer.
He had killed, without blinking an eye. He was numb to it now.
He had to be.
His friends knew him as Chandler Bing, a slightly dorky, sardonic office drone, whose biggest problem was that he couldn't commit.
Sometimes he would become absorbed in that world. And lately, he was beginning to wish that he really were Chandler Bing.
The worst part was that he felt that by staying in one place, he was putting Chandler's friends---his friends, at risk. He had enemies, that much he knew, but his greatest advantage at this point was that none of them knew what he looked like---and they were after Nicholas, not Chandler.
He blinked, and focused, shaking his head slowly. If he let his mind wander, he'd end up dead. He peered through the sight of his rifle, and saw that the gates of the Embassy were opening slowly. He settled onto the floor of the hotel, and aimed the rifle. In one swift motion, he pulled the trigger, slid down against the adjacent wall, disassembled and encased his weapon, and slipped out of the hotel room and onto the street.
It wasn't until he was inside his office, that he allowed himself to breathe. He quickly changed, and slipped on Chandler's suit and tie. He stowed his weapon, checked his messages, and made his way to the other side of town, and to his other life.
The office was a cover. As Nicholas, he only visited the office after hours, and always slipped in through the back door. Most of the people he worked with were clueless to the fact that he was a hit man. Two of his friends had even worked at his office for a short while. He had perfected the art of Chandler's life so well, that no one ever questioned it. As far as they knew, he had the world's most boring job.
He stepped off of the train, and out of the train station. Checking his watch, he wandered down the street, and into Chandler's apartment building.
Sometimes, he became so absorbed in his alter ego, he forgot who he was. It was about that time that he'd get a call, and he's get pulled back into the life he'd known for so long. He sighed as he opened his apartment door, content with the knowledge that, at least for tonight, he was Chandler Bing.
"Chandler, where have you been?"
~****~
He aimed his rifle into the night, and placed his finger on the trigger. He waited for the target to come into full view. Suddenly, a shot whizzed through the air, hitting the tree that stood above Nicholas's head.
"Shit," he mumbled, and rolled away from his spot on the ground. He quickly disassembled, and pulled out his handgun, before slipping into the woods.
He could feel the presence of the predator, but had yet to see a thing. He moved behind a tree, and cocked his handgun. He turned, just in time to feel the heat of a bullet whiz by his head. He pointed and fired. For a moment, there was silence, and Nicholas searched the darkness, looking for a sign that it was safe. He heard a rustling, and aimed his gun. A shadow moved, and he fired again. The shadow flinched, then collapsed. He turned and ran, not stopping until he reached his office.
He picked up his phone and dialed.
"It's me. There's been a breach. No, the job was intruded on. Yes. I'm laying low for a few days, I'll be in contact shortly."
Nicholas hung up the phone, and sighed. He quickly changed, and made his way back into Chandler's life.
*
"Hey, man," Ross said, as Chandler walked into the apartment.
"Hey," Chandler replied, and sunk into his recliner. He was exhausted! "Where's Joey?"
"On a date, I think. You want a beer?"
"Sure."
"Hey guys," the three girls walked into Chandler and Joey's apartment.
"Hey."
"You wanna go see a movie or something?" Phoebe asked.
"Yeah, sure," Ross shrugged.
"Uh, I think I'm gonna go to sleep," Chandler sighed, as he pivoted his chair toward the group.
"Aw, c'mon Chandler!" Monica smiled. Her smile quickly faded. "Chandler! You're bleeding!"
Chandler's eyes widened, and his hand went immediately to his burning temple.
"What happened?" Phoebe asked, as the group peered at him.
"Oh, uh, some guy on the train scraped me with his briefcase," Chandler laughed.
"Let me see," Monica said, as she leaned over and touched his face.
Chandler quickly flinched, and pulled away. He pushed past Monica, and stood up nervously.
"It's fine, Mon, don't worry about it," he smiled.
"But---"
"I'm fine, really," Chandler repeated, and walked into the bathroom.
"Dammit," he muttered, as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was getting careless. The incident earlier that night shook him up, and it shouldn't have. He sighed, and cleaned and dressed his wound, cursing his lax behavior the entire time.
~****~
"How are you feeling?" Monica asked the next day, as Chandler walked into the apartment.
"Fine. Listen, Mon, I'm uh, sorry about yesterday. I was tired, and I---"
"It's okay, Chandler. I promise not to take it personally," Monica laughed, and sunk into the sofa next to Chandler. She gingerly touched his temple.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not really," Chandler smiled.
"Hungry?"
"Eh," Chandler shrugged. Monica stood up and kissed his injured temple, before heading into the kitchen.
Chandler followed Monica with his eyes. She kissed him, and his heart jumped. This wasn't happening, he couldn't fall for her. Her life would be placed in jeopardy. That was why he'd broken it off with Kathy. He sighed, and decided that after all that had happened, it was time for him to relocate. He looked at Monica again, and sighed.
How was he going to walk away?