[ 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 pause the audio file and leave my office, to get a coffee. 
 
 `` Who were you on the phone to, Aunt Marie?'' The little bugger. I'd forgotten about him. His parents were off having a `` second honeymoon''. In truth it was their third. And they'd asked me to look after him. 
 
 `` A... friend. I'm going out to see him later on today. You can stay here by yourself, ca n't you? I'll buy you some ice cream!'' I do n't know what kids like these days. Is ice cream still available? I was waiting so long for the last one. He jumps up and down excitedly, which I take as a yes, and walk past him into the kitchen to get my coffee. 
 
 I take a sip and spit the rancid tasting coffee out. I check the expiration date on the tub and it's been out of date for a week. Shame, really, but it would probably be best if I'm relying on caffeine to keep me awake when it's time for the funnest part of the week. I check my weapons and leave the house. 
 
 Google Maps vibrates my phone, telling me to turn left, as I'm walking along. But I want to flank whoever I'm after. I see a man in black through an alleyway in the courtyard we're meant to be meeting in. Maybe that's him? But I persist with the flank and carry on following the side roads that will take me to the entrance behind him. 
 
 A man stops me and holds out a map, `` Sorry to disturb you, but do you know where Cosgrove Square is?'' Normally I'd wonder why he did n't check on his phone or something, but all that's on my mind is the fact that his voice is the same one from the audio file I was provided with of *him*. 
 
 `` Sure,'' I reply. As I lift my arm up to point it out on the map, I shake the concealed blade in my sleeve carefully into my hand. I plunge the knife into his stomach, before taking out a silenced pistol and shot him just like the old rhyme said: 
 
 > Once in the heart, twice in the head 
 
 > Then you know he's really dead 
 
 I take out my phone and open messages. I open the number I'd been using to contact'the bad guy' and text him, `` I'm done. what do you want me to do with the body?'' I click send, and a muffled ringtone emits from the duffel bag of the man I'd just killed. 

