Here's the epilogue. Hope you guys like it!
Several days later, early in the morning, Arthur Watson walked into the park. He had a newspaper rolled up under one arm and a McDonald's bag filled with his breakfast balled up in his hand. A hot coffee occupied his other hand. He walked over to his favorite picnic table, set his things down on it, and sat. He had spent all of the past two days sitting at this table and waiting, occasionally taking a stroll so that he didn't raise eyebrows. He was starting to think that the target would never show up. His organization had its statistics, and normally they weren't wrong but this was ridiculous.
Several hours passed and still no sign of the target. Arthur looked at his watch. Still only eight. He has to come out eventually. No problem. Besides, orders are orders. It wasn't until noon that someone who matched the target's description appeared.
Arthur had seen many things in his line of work, and not much surprised him, but the pathetic being that came out of the woods adjoining the park caught him completely off guard. It was a boy... a teenager from the looks of him. Maybe sixteen or seventeen. He looked positively terrible. His face had taken on an awful pallor, and his bright blue eyes looked withdrawn and haunted. He was very thin, too thin almost, and he had dark bruises on his neck and a black eye. His clothes and face were dirty, his face smeared from what must have been a torrent of tears, and brown leaves were clinging to his dark hair. He looked like he still would be crying but had run out of juice. The boy looked dazed, like he didn't quite know where he was or what was going on around him.
His appearance matched that of the target exactly.
When the boy finally staggered his way to another picnic bench and sat wearily down, Arthur stood and made his way casually over to where the boy sat. When he was a few feet away, the boy became aware of his presence and glanced up at him, he looked like he was trying to hold back tears. Arthur stood next to the bench across the table from him.
"This spot taken?" he asked.
The boy shook his head without looking at him again.
"If you don't mind my saying," Arthur said in a conversational voice, "You don't look so good."
The boy looked up at him and just stared for a moment then snickered briefly through his nose. "I wouldn't be surprised if you're right." My heavens, it sounds like he hasn't used his voice in ages, Arthur thought.
"What's your name?"
"Jackson. What's yours?"
"Arthur. Pleasure to meet you." He looked Jackson up and down. "You hungry?"
Jackson seemed to think about it. Arthur couldn't blame him, if what he'd been told was true, then Jackson Rippner would be out of his mind to even put a little trust in someone so soon after meeting him. Finally, Jackson nodded.
"You look hungry. Here," he acted like he just thought of it, "I just got this from the McDonald's over there five minutes ago. You look like you could use it more than I could." He set his second McDonald's bag for the day on the table. Jackson looked at it dully for several seconds, took hold of it, and tore hungrily into it. He was halfway through the hamburger within when Arthur started to speak again.
"I know what happened a few nights ago, Jackson," he stated casually.
Jackson stopped amid bite. He looked at Arthur with the terror of an animal that thinks it's been cornered and slowly lowered the hamburger to the flattened bag on the table. "What do you mean?" he asked hastily.
"Relax, Jackson. I'm not the police, and I'm not here to arrest you or anything." Jackson looked confusedly and untrustingly at him. "In fact, I'm here to lay a proposal for you."
"A proposal?"
"Yes, one I think you might like."
Jackson carefully considered, then after a moment, "I'm listening."
"I'm a member of an organization called Sillhouette, an organization that not a whole lot of people really know about. You may read about our doings in the newspapers or see it on TV, but they call us terrorists." Jackson tensed. "Now, now, calm down, Rippner." At this Jackson's face turned alert and unfriendly.
"I don't recall telling you my last name."
"You didn't have to. My organization has branches reaching the most remote areas and we're looking for fresh talent anywhere we can get it. When we heard about you killing the Schnobb boy and taking out two other boys twice your size... well, let's just say that you got put on our list of interesting new possibilities really fast."
"Why would I want to join a group of terrorists?"
Arthur was slightly annoyed at being called a terrorist but tried not to let it show, "What else can you do? Your whole family's dead, you might as well sentence yourself to life imprisonment if you ever show your face in your school or house again, for the past few days you've been wandering around the forest grieving and starving. The way I see it, what I'm offering is the best choice you've got right now."
Jackson thought about it some more, "What would I be doing in such an organization as this?"
Arthur shrugged, "At first, I suppose you'd be stuck with the little jobs. Small time assassinations for businessmen who want to get themselves just a little higher on the ladder, you know. Jobs where you get your hands dirty. Then, as you progress, you get to be in charge of a few jobs until before you know it, you're masterminding them."
"And what if I say no?"
"Then I kill you, dump you in the woods near your mother, and make it look like wild animals did it." Jackson's blue eyes went wide for a moment, and Arthur looked at him with an amused smile on his lips. "So what do you say?"
"Well I don't really have much of a choice, now do I?"
"Great! You won't regret your decision, Mr. Rippner. Come. My car is parked a block away. I'll explain the details on the way."
Well, here it be. Congratulate me. I just finished a fan fiction for the first time ever! Tell me what you thought of it. Review, please:)