The Disguised Assassin

Chapter 11: “Dad!”



John and Justin immediately got into his car and drove off straight to his house. As he drove, he got a call from his boss. He looked at the phone that was laid on his lap and groaned. Justin picked the phone and answered the call after he saw that John wasn’t going to answer it.

“Hello, sir,” Justin said as he picked the call.

“Where are you and John, Justin?” their boss growled and Justin had to shift the phone from his ear. “Where in hell are you guys? And where is John right now?”

” we are actually kind of busy, sir,” Justin replied. He looked at John whose focus was still on the road. “And John is much more busy than I am right now.”

“Give him the damn phone. I want to speak with him,” their boss shouted angrily and Justin immediately handed the phone to John.

“It’s for you, John,” Justin said.

John shifted his attention from the road to Justin. He hesitated but then grabbed the phone and put it in his ear with his one hand on the steering wheel.

“Sir,” he muttered. “You called.”

“Why did Justin pick your call?” Richard yelled “And why did you two leave without informing me?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but it was very very urgent,” John replied as he honked at an amazon delivery bike in front of him. After several honks, he swerved past him, screaming cusses at the driver as he drove. Justin looked at his best friend like he had lost his mind.

“Are you driving?” Richard asked. “And did you just cuss at me?”

“Yes, sir. I am driving,” John said as he took his hand off the steering wheel and wiped the sweat that was tickling his forehead. “And no, sir. I wasn’t cussing at you.”

“I want you back here, right now, John,” Richard said a bit calmer, but his voice was laced with anger. “I don’t want to hear any excuses.” John’s car tyres squealed as he made a sharp turn down the street.

“I’m really sorry, sir, but that cannot happen,” John muttered. He turned to Justin and motioned for him to take the phone but Justin shook his head and turned to his window, ignoring John’s pleas.

“And why can’t that happen, John?” Richard asked with fury in his voice. He was most definitely angry now and John could picture steam sipping out of his ears. Steam…. smoke. John groaned as the images of his house burning flashed through his mind.

“Because my freaking house is on fire, sir,” John shouted in response and Justin looked at him in shock. Did he just shout at their boss? “Justin just received a call from the fire service, sir, and they said my place was up in flames. That’s why I can’t turn back now,” John said, this time calmly.

“Well, you should have started with that, then,” Richard muttered. “Go take care of your home situation. Call me back when you’ve reached there and evaluated the situation.”Content rights by NôvelDr//ama.Org.

“Yes, sir,” John muttered as he hanged up the call and dropped his phone on his lap.

“The audacity you have,” Justin said and John mumbled some words that he couldn’t decipher. “What are you say–” Justin paused. His eyes widened as he pointed and screamed, “LAMP POST! LAMP POST!” John turned the steering wheel and missed the lamp post by a hairs breadth.

“Yo, where did that come from?” John muttered as he steadied the car. Justin looked at John, amusement written all over his face.

“What the hell, dude,” he yelled. “First last night and now today. Are you going blind?” John mumbled some words again and Justin groaned. “Freaking mumbling shit and driving like a bat. You need some glasses, dude,” he said as he pulled the seatbelt and locked himself in place.

John sped past cars and dodged motorcycles as he raced to his house. His eyes were focused on the road and he didn’t let anything distract him. People shouted and cussed at him but he remained unmoved. All he thought about was his house in flames. How was he going to recover all the lost documents? And his clothes. He growled and hit the steering wheel in anger, frightening Justin.

” Are you okay, ?” Justin asked. He was concerned about his friend and feared that the situation was now resulting to a mental problem. “I know you angry but you don’t have to hit that steering wheel so hard. It doesn’t stop your house from burning down”

“You don’t understand, Justin,” John muttered. “All my stuffs are in there. My clothes and everything. I mean, this stuff,” he dragged his suit, “might be the only thing I have right now.”

“C’mon, man,” Justin said. “Some fires can be merciful. Some of your stuffs might be saved.”

“Dude, not only that, but now, this whole thing is gonna prove all that my dad said to be right.” John ran his hand through his hair as different thoughts ran through his head.

“Don’t think like that man, your…” Justin paused as John parked his car. He stared at the now charred remains of Justin’s home. “Whoa, I think you were right. That suit is your only property left.” John let out a light croak as he stared at the smoke rising from his house.

The fire fighter had put off the fire and the once blue painted, beautiful looking bungalow was now black. The roof had burnt down completely and some of the walls had fallen off.

John stepped out of the car and walked up to a firefighter. He tapped the man on the shoulder and he turned around. John stared at the pack of cheetos in his hands and frowned.

“Are you eating cheetos while someone’s home is on fire?” John said angrily.

“Well, technically, it’s not on fire,” the man replied.

“Well, technically, I don’t care,” John shouted as Justin walked up to him.

” Hey calm down, tiger,” Justin said as he dragged John away from the man. “Sorry, sir. My friend here has had a rough day.” The man nodded as he put a cheeto in his mouth and bit hard on it.

“Sure, no problem,” he said as he waved at them before turning back to John’s building.

“What are you doing, man,” Justin asked angrily after he had dragged his friend to a corner. “Have you freaking lost it? Why did you talk to that fireman that way?”

“I’m sorry. I just…” John paused as he placed his hands in his pocket. He pulled out the key his dad gave him and stared at it angrily. “Dad.” He growled.


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