[ WP ] You are a 12 year old son of a professional assassin . Describe what you observe at home .

Growing up my dad has always had two rules: never go into his office, and never ask what he does. Honestly, I didn ’ t bother asking what he did because my dad is an intimidating guy. His tall and burly stature was clearly something that I did not want argue with. And if looks could kill, his chiseled jaw and piercing brown eyes would end me in a heartbeat. 
 
 So, I keep my mouth shut, and try to enjoy the long spans of time I get to spend with him. He ’ s usually home for months at a time, which has always made me wonder how a man who works so little is able to provide our family with an amazing two-story mansion, and enroll me in one of the top prep schools in the area. I ’ m by no means complaining, I love living the rich life, but I just never understood it. 
 
 What has always made me curious though was his office. Normally, when my dad is home he is a fun, easygoing dad. He cracks plenty of jokes, takes me out to our massive backyard to play football, and he even plans movie night for the family. But when the old black telephone that rests on the table in the corner of the dining room rings, he goes into “ business mode. ” After the phone rings, he is out of the house within fifteen minutes, and I can expect to not see him for weeks. Mom always says ‘ the suits ’ were calling dad for his next project, but I have never understood what these “ projects ” were. 
 
 Tonight, the phone rang in the middle of movie night. Ring…. Ring… The long, slow rings echoed throughout the house. Instinctively, my dad gets up from his favorite recliner chair, and silently walks into the dining room. I watch him shoot a glance at my mom, and look over to see her feverishly biting her nails. She always bit her nails when she was nervous, and every time she heard dad ’ s phone ringing in the dining room, she would bite her nails. 
 
 I was extra curious tonight. Lately, the phone calls have increased from once every few months, to once every few weeks. And while my mom normally gets nervous before every one of my dad ’ s “ projects ”, tonight she was practically hysterical. A few minutes after my dad left the living room, I hear silent sobs escape her mouth as she continues to bite away at her nails. I decided that now would be a good time to eavesdrop on my dad ’ s conversation. As quietly as I could, I got up from the couch and began walking towards the dining room. 
 
 “ Where do you think you ’ re going?! ” my mom asks in a failed attempt to be stern. “ Leave your father alone! ” she said while covering her face to hide the tears. 
 
 I stop and turn back towards my mom, “ Geez mom. I ’ m just going to the bathroom. Are you ok? ” 
 
 “ Yes I ’ m fine! Just go. ” 
 
 I back out of the room while my mom goes back to biting her nails. Before I left I hear her cry to herself, “ He ’ s just a boy. ” What ’ s that supposed to mean? 
 
 By the time I make it into the dining room, I hear the door creak open from my dad ’ s office upstairs and watch him descend the spiral staircase. He ’ s clothed in his typical “ project ” attire, all white suit with a bright red tie and black leather suitcase. He jogs towards the door, but before he leaves he turns and waves, “ Good bye son. See you in a few weeks. ” And just like that, he was gone. 
 
 I walk towards the bathroom, wondering when I ’ ll see my dad again, and thinking about what my mom said to herself earlier. As I cross the foyer, to my ultimate surprise, out of the corner of my eye, I see a bright white light from my dad ’ s office lighting up the second floor. The door was open! This was unlike my dad. He was very careful about shutting the door to his office. Never once have I actually seen his office door. I just couldn ’ t resist. Without hesitation, I ran up the spiral staircase, practically tripping over my own feet, and climbed towards his office. 
 
 I reached the second floor, and turned left towards the office. The closer I got, the more I doubted myself. I ’ m going to get in so much trouble; mom ’ s going to catch me I thought to myself. But my legs kept moving, step after step towards my dad ’ s office. My doubts were consuming my mind, but before I even had a chance to turn back, I was there. I stood in the doorframe and observed what I had been dying to see for 12 years. 
 
 The room was immaculate, and the walls were absolutely barren. Not a single picture lined the wall. The only thing in the office was a long, burgundy table that sat at the far corner with a computer that rested on top of it. It was a bit of a let down. The way my dad protected his office like his own personal fort, I expected to find something more…. interesting. I stepped into his office hoping that I would find something more. 
 
 Suddenly, a small orb descended from the ceiling. As I stood motionless from fear, the orb released a blue transparent light that began scanning my face. ‘ Processing facial recognition. Facial recognition confirmed. ’ The walls started to shift, and rotate. Just like that, the once empty walls were replaced with an assortment of weapons: Pistols, shotguns, assault rifles, grenade launchers ( I played enough Call of Duty to know what I saw ). I stood in place, slowly shifting my gaze from one wall to the next. 
 
 “ I knew I would find you here! ” my dad said. 
 
 I froze. He caught me. I knew I shouldn ’ t have come in here. Fear prevented me from turning around to face the wrath of my dad. I felt the hard hand of my father press against my shoulder. 
 
 “ Don ’ t worry son. You ’ re not in trouble. I left the door open tonight because I knew you couldn ’ t resist. ” 
 
 I turn around to see the biggest smile I ’ ve ever seen across my dad ’ s face. “ Dad. What do you do? ” 
 
 He chuckles, “ Tonight son, I ’ m going to show you. ” 

