The Jericho Files #1

The Jeircho Files .1

I never really understood him.

I mean, who could? Sitting across from my desk was without a doubt the most cocky and pretentious dirtbag that had even graced my office. I couldn't stand the look of him. His whole style was dirty. His clothes were dirty. His smile was dirty. His HANDSHAKE was dirty.

But the more I stared at him, I asked myself....

Was his money just as dirty?

"I don't know, Mr. Gerrin" I said dryly, trying incredibly hard now to show too much interest. "I'm not exactly sure if you'd 'fit in' in my kind of business" I made sure to stress the "fit in" part of that sentence. I wanted this guy to know he couldn't cut it here.

"What part do I not exactly 'fit in' with, Mr. Jericho?" He answered sarcastically.

I leaned forward slightly and pursed my lips. I was going to keep my cool during this meeting, I had already decided that. This man was already on my bad nerve because of past 'business choices', now he was just being disrespectful.

"Take a look at your last few business deals. You ran 12 meth labs in southeast New Mexico, you would've gotten busted but your trained monkeys ended up taking the fall while you skipped town, with more than enough bail money" I started off, with a sharp tone in my voice. That comment made him scoff.

"Then, after that deal was behind you, you decided to run bags of coke through customs hidden in the carcasses of parrots that were stolen from a taxidermist"  I continued, with a slight elevation in the tone of my voice. This one made him smile, as I can only assume the thought of stuffed parrots was amusing to him.

"As if this wasn't enough, you decided to dump a stash you were carrying down a sewer drain, and ended up poising a small towns water supply" I said with just a hint of anger in my voice. I wanted to make sure my displeasure with this guy's actions was well known.

"Look, I do what I have to do to get the job done. I would've thought that YOU of all people would appreciate what I have to bring to the table." He said remorselessly.

That did it. I slammed my hand on the table and stood up. I leaned over my desk and put my face as close to his as possible. I wanted him to feel the heat that was causing my face to burn with frustration.

"Now look here, you worthless drug peddler. I have NO NEED for anybody in my business like you. I don't care how many times you've ducked the cops, I don't care how much business you've brought to other companies, I DON'T CARE how scared or not scared you are of this business. You are NOT somebody that belongs here. You may not care about what happened yesterday, but when you run drugs, you leave a wake that lasts for the rest of your life."  I said through slightly clenched teeth.

"I don't have space in my business for a drug runner. I don't have the luxury of having blemishes on my reputation. I don't need your business. Go elsewhere" I said in a slightly calmer tone. I sat back down in my chair while the individual across from me tried to remove the shock from his face.

I stared at Mr. Gerrin as he tried to recompose himself and come up with some kinda of excuse. I watched as his expression turned from disbelief to a smug smile, coupled with a sneer. He just didn't want to listen to me.....

"You mean to tell me....that the great Mr. Jericho....wants to put himself on a higher pedestal than me? What makes you so better than? I run drugs...you run guns....big deal. It's business."

I sighed at his lack of vision. I was also thankful, that while he was speaking, he didn't hear the soft click of the safety switch embedded in my desk.

"That's where you're wrong Mr. Gerrin......"

*CLICK*

*SWIP*

The dart from the secret barrel in my desk had hit him square in the arm. I had placed it off center because those who sit across from me are more likely not to even notice the dart coming towards them. The toxins the dart was dipped in weren't fatal, just strong enough to make the target a drooling sack of flesh for awhile.

"You see, Mr. Gerrin...you and I have different philosophies on business. I believe, if you run weapons...it makes you a revolutionary. If you run drugs...it makes you a criminal"

By now, the toxins were starting to spread into his system. I could tell by the shifting of his eyes in a panicked state. The toxin was designed to incite the feeling of tightness in the chest. Similar to a heart attack, but more acute so as to cause alarm in the individual. But as soon as they realise what is happening in their chest, their extremities have gone numb. This only increses their panic. As the toxins spread, all they can do is sit still and pray that someone notices their plight and calls 911 or gets a doctor.

In Mr. Gerrin's case, no one called 911. I was the only one in that office besides him...why would I possibly call 911 since I was the one who gave him the toxin to begin with? No...I believe I'll let him sit there and stew in his own panic. The final phase of the toxin only takes a few more seconds. The toxin will begin to fool his mind into thinking he's losing oxygen, causing him to pass out. 25 seconds after the dart shot, Mr. Gerrin was completely docile.

"And I have no place in my business for criminals...I prefer to let the cops deal with them" I said with satisfaction in my voice. I got up from my chair to closely examine Mr. Gerrin. His body was completely limp.

This brings a smile to my face. Nobody tells me how I should run my business. Better end this conflict right.

I picked up my phone and used my #1 speed-dial. Always the most important.

"This is Jericho, get in here, I have some cleanup that needs to be done"

Excellent, my cohort will take Mr. Gerrin's body to a location, then contact the authorities to tip them off to Mr. Gerrin's whereabouts. They'll arrest him and we'll have one less drug runner on my hands.

I love my job.