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As you pass through you spot an open cardboard box below the light switch, a glint of silver inside catches your eye. Banks notices and speaks up.
"Anyone ever tell you that you have a wandering eye problem." He jokes, standing he approaches the box and bends down. Pulling out a small plastic rectangle with a silver circle in it's center.
"A coin?"
"Part of my grand-dad's collection. I got them when he passed a few years back, when I was little I would bring him every coin I found just in case." He smiles warmly as he holds the coin, staring into it. You feel radiating warmth from him that makes your arm hair stand.
"That's nice, I'm sure he'd be happy you're taking such good care of them."
"Definitely.." He says almost to himself, his eyes spark and he looks to you once more. "Thanks for coming by DeLucia, I'll text you when after I talk with Susanne about the contract."
"Of course, brother. Take your time."
You both tap knuckles and you head off. As you enter the hallway you have a bit of a pep in your step. You managed to avoid getting fired, you're confident your interview with Kent will bear fruit, and now you're confident Banks will choose to go through with the contract, today is going better than you thought it would. You feel energized and powerful. You feel... amped. Your heart beats hard with adrenaline, slamming into your chest like a war drum. under the layers of manic energy you feel an underlying red hot blanket of hatred.
You blink.
Standing in a dark room, the surroundings familiar to you but you can't quite place where you've seen it, in front of you is a long dresser. You helplessly watch as your hand extends and pulls the brass knob. Dark oak glides smoothly out as you open a drawer, inside a large bundle of socks, underwear, and t-shirts. Your hand pushes them aside and prods blindly until your finger hooks a small hole. You pull and reveal a compartment hidden beneath the false bottom. Your fingers run gently over the textured grip of a 9mm pistol, placed between a small pile of cash and a long blade sheathed in a cloth wrap. The wood beneath has been marred by dozens of tally marks scratched into the wood.
You find it hard to catch your breath as your hand wraps around the grip of the pistol and you set the drawer back to it's inconspicuous state. Your chest burns as you turn around, the room around you shrouded in shadow, slowly you approach the tall door and it's golden glinting knob. As your fingers wrap around the cool metal you feel your chest tighten and the burn in your lungs begins to feel unbearable. Suddenly piercing the silence is the ringing of a phone.
A phone... no. YOUR phone.
As your head cocks in confusion and your vision begins to shift to searching the darkness around you... you blink.
