Part 6
I think I overused the "he" pronoun.
He sat in the back of the car staring off into the distance. He never thought he'd be checking off murder on his list of possible things to do. The gunshot still rang in his ears, he had never seen so much blood in his life. Except maybe for the time Atlas got punched in the face by the high school quarterback. Still, the amount of blood was still pretty gratuitous. It wasn't that it disturbed him, or messed him up somehow in the head, it more intrigued him than anything. His head was already pretty messed up, not much more he could do to it anyway.
The SUV pulled over and the driver told him to get out. According to his recent instructions, he had to go collect a tiny cardboard box within the next day-and-a-half. It sounded too simple, so he went and got ice cream before doing anything else. He sat in the back booth of the parlor, a white tiled room with retro accenting and an annoyingly sterile smell, eating a small serving peanut butter ice cream. A soft ping and a buzz alerted him of a new text message, his phone was usually pretty docile, partly due to his poor choice in cellular networks. He checked it, it was from Atlas.
"How's the job?"
He frowned, "it's okay I guess, did you have any idea about the nature of this job?"
"No, I just heard it payed well. What are you doing? Scrubbing sewers? Dumping bodies?"
"I'll tell you later."
"Fine, be like that. Asshole."
He put his phone down on the counter and leaned back into the teal leather bench. Atlas had been acting strangely the past few weeks. Dare he say more responsible? They had been best friends since kindergarten when they both got kicked out together. Austin was always the thinker, Atlas was always the doer. The thought of calling his friend back crossed his mind, but he shook it of as he had more important things to do. He leaned back and sipped on the melted ice cream, fingers hovering over the phone.
It rang, Atlas picked up.
"What?"
"Hey, just wanted to know if you wanted to hang out sometime, you know, after this is all over."
"Uh, yeah, I guess."
"Okay cool."
"Yeah...cool.
"Bye," he waited for a response, but got a dial tone.
Austin sat up rather abruptly, leaving the ice cream place behind. He still had several hours to kill before the transaction, any normal thief would use this time to check out the building and create a plan, but Austin preferred to wing it. Planning was never his forte, so why would he do it now?
He kicked a stone carelessly down the street, angered by his friend. They had done everything together, and now it seemed that the fox had found something better to do. It was about five in the afternoon when he approached the old factory. The building was situated just on the edge of the city, on the same block as a large apartment complex. Without wasting any more time, he walked into the lobby of the apartment and headed towards the elevators. A few security cameras caught his attention, but none of the staff seemed to notice that he was not a renter. The elevator doors dinged and slowly opened, the smell of carpet cleaner and week-old take out food greeted his nose. Music played softly through the speakers as the doors rolled shut. Austin adjusted his hoodie strings in the mirror, listening intently to the soft piano music floating about. He smiled, satisfied at the length of both the strings, before turning around and smashing the emergency elevator button. A loud noise drowned out the music as the elevator ground to a halt, he covered his ears for the duration of the noise, and then stepped up onto the hand rail. The ceiling of the elevator pushed up to reveal a maintenance panel which he climbed up and out of before staff could reach where he was. Slowly replacing the panel, he began to climb. The shaft was dark and cold, but he knew quite well where he was going: straight up.
Daylight greeted his eyes a few moments later as he reached the motor room. Large ropes and pulleys operated the single elevator shaft he had just climbed out of. To his annoyance, one of the pulleys was spinning, signifying the approach of unwanted guests. Taking a nearby crowbar, he wedged it into the spokes of the weal stopping it mid-rotation. He silently stepped out into the roof after opening the door. It was a cloudy day, and his drab attire was not very likely to attract the attention of folks in the neighboring towers. He stepped up to the edge of the building and swung his arms as he jumped. His feet stuck the landing as he tumbled onto the roof of the factory. Down below, the roaring engine of a truck pulling in told him that he was just in time. His hands fiddled with his earbuds as he put one in each ear before flicking through his audio files to try and find the perfect track. Time was slowly trickling away as he thumbed through each selection. By the time he found a song he wanted to listen to, the men in the truck were already in the building.
He strolled along the rooftop at a leisurely pace, before dropping down through the broken glass roof into a hallway below.
Fiddling around in his pocket a moment, he brought one of the small tablets to his mouth and let it dissolve. He hated to admit it, but he was beginning to question whether or not he was becoming dependent on it. His thoughts were interrupted as footsteps approached him from around the corner. The hallway was straight and narrow, but down at the end was a large vending machine. If anyone were to turn their heads while passing by, they would easily spot him and raise the alarm. The footsteps approached him, he shrank down and struggled to quiet his breathing. Thankfully they past him without noticing, he waited till they were out of sight before following.