Eraser

So, I know I promised you all a story... and so I'll give you a story. Get your popcorn, soda, whatever else you need to enjoy a nice campfire tale.

Jason Boross. Secondary Head Archivist for the asylum. He's got everyone's file in a laptop he so geniusly carries with him everywhere. Caught him in a parking lot, hopped in the back of his car, stuck there until he got home. While I was lifting up the trunk to get out, I heard him talking on his phone. Dumbass had his back to me. He opened his door, forgot to close it... I guess he was preoccupied with his phone and his laptop, because he half-assed a kick to close it. It was left ajar.

I let myself in as quietly as I could. I heard him in the other room, so I decided to hop back against a wall. Now, obviously killing someone over the phone would set up red flags all over the fucking place, so that's a bad idea. I had to wait for him to finish his bullshit lecture to whoever was on the other end. Thirty-four minutes. The asshole doesn't like shrimp, either. Who doesn't like shrimp?

Once he hung up the phone and threw it onto the table, he decided to take a seat at the table. I casually walked up behind him and covered his mouth and nose with a rag soaked in chloroform. Now, you're probably wondering, "Where did he get a rag soaked in chloroform from?" Answer: Thirty-four minutes. Time management, my lovely children. Anyways, I had the guy in a sleeper hold AND with chemicals at his breather-holes. He wasn't breathing, so I let him pass out. Theeeeeen he took a nice, deep breath. I'm not sure if that would've knocked him out for even longer. Not like that would've even mattered.

So I dragged him. I dragged him into his bathroom, let him flop down into the bathtub. Slit his throat nice and deep, and let him bleed for a bit. Now, this is where the fun begins! I took gasoline to the whole place. I swear, he had five cans conveniently placed in his attic. I left a dry trail to the front door, just for an easier escape route. I walked in on Mr. Boross messily trying to get out of the bathtub. Now THAT! THAT was hilarious! He could hardly even stand, let alone move his thumb! So, I brought a boot down on his rib-cage. Watched what was left of the life in his eyes shine, then set the place alight.

I don't need to worry about his escape, I locked every single door. I took the laptop, deleted my documents from every connected database in his high-tech laptop, then I dropped it in a lake. Hell, I don't even know exactly which lake it was. Maybe it was Erie... But that, my friends, is how I stopped existing to the asylum. They aren't even worried about me, anymore. What, with my killing four of their main men and suddenly ceasing to exist?

I can finally go on with the Operation. I can restore this, I know it. I just need to hope that HE of all "people," doesn't notice me. Not yet.