[ WP ] you are a retired special ops soldier bored with civilian life , you decide to hire hitmen off of the dark web to kill you as a form of entertainment .

I stared forward, glaring lights shining in my eyes, feeling the chill of excessive air conditioning causing goosebumps to break out over my skin. I set cuffed hands on the metal table in front of me, silently contemplating the easiest way to get out of them. 
 
 The door behind me opened, then slammed closed, a person entering the small room. The person stepped forward until they were in front of me, seating themselves in the uncomfortable looking metal chair across from me. It was a man, clad in a sleek black suit and looking every inch the government agent I knew him to be. 
 
 He slapped a file down in front of me, and I looked down at it, noting my name written on it. *James Gardner*. I looked up from the file, and the man finally deigned to speak. 
 
 `` You're a strange man, James. Retired from special ops at the early age of twenty-five, and only two years later here you are, hiring hitmen to kill yourself. Why would you try to hire hitmen to kill you, James?'' 
 
 I said nothing, and he took the moment to flip open the file. He rifled through the papers, seemingly deciding on one, then turned it so that I could see. My eyes found an image I had n't let myself see in a long time, and I flinched back, forcing my eyes up to his. He flipped the file closed again, resting clasped hands on the table. 
 
 `` Here's what I know, James. I know you retired to take care of your niece after her parents died in a car wreck. I know you successfully took care of her for a year, before got herself killed running after a cat into the street. I think you grieved for a few months before life got a little... empty. Boring. And I think you tried to hire these men to make life a little more interesting before going out with a bang.'' 
 
 The words stung with their truth. Still, I stayed silent. 
 
 `` You have two choices here, James. You stay silent, we use the documented evidence to convict you of attempting to hire these hitmen, and you go to prison for several years at least. Or,'' He withdrew another file from under his coat, slapping it onto the table. *Operation Gorilla*. My eyes met his. `` You read this file, agree to become a blackout operative, and this place,'' he gestures to the interrogation room and the police station beyond, `` well, you were never here. Whaddaya say?'' 
 
 

