[ WP ] You are legally allowed to commit murder once , but you must fill out the proper paperwork and your proposed victim will be notified of your intentions

`` So'', he thought, `` What about today? Will I go out today?'' Well, he should go out, yes, but would he. He had received another one of the dam letters today, `` Dear Mr, Hardin we are writing to notify you that...'' yes, yes, skip to the end ``... that an assassin permit has been placed on you by...'' I do n't even know that guy he thought looking at the name `` Why the hell does this person want me dead?'' He sighed and walked over to a filing cabinet and slipped the letter into a folder. At some point in the past, back when this kind of thing had been a joke to him he had purchased the black folder, the one with the grim reaper on it, yes it had been funny at the time. 
 
 He looked out his window at the world outside, down there someone wanted him dead. Down there a lot of people wanted him dead, this new letter made it 476 this year alone. There were downsides to been one of the most famous people in the world, who would have thought that inventing numerous lifesaving medical treatments and safety equipment for the aerospace industry would make you the target of so many bullets? He had committed his entire life to helping people and how had the world paid him back. By sending him letters that had the words `` assassin permit'' in them. 
 
 He needed to get stuff done, for one thing the new scramjet designs needed testing. Yes he could do it over video calling but at some point he would have to be there in person. He opened a draw on his desk and pulled out a hand gun, big and heavy and armed... armed was that the word, he did n't know all that Hardin know was that you pointed the end with the hole in it at the twat trying to kill you and pulled the trigger. Not that he did n't have security guards around him at every hour of the day, ready to do all the bullet shooting required, but the gun made him feel safer. `` Fine'' he said to himself, let ’ s go. With one quick look outside he left the room. 
 
 Outside were two guards armed with assault rifles fitted with smart bullets, smart bullets that did all that they could to hit their target, and to not hit him! That is all he needed, one of the guards to be the guy trying to kill him. So even if the guy pulled a gun on him and fired, the bullet would just fly around him and embed itself in a nearby wall. All this security, people would say he was paranoid except for the fact that people *were* trying to kill him, he know because he got letters from the government telling him so. It had got worse these past few years, people had wanted to kill him since day one, literally, and he had received a threat the same day the law was passed. That was 12 years ago, 12 years of people trying to kill you every other day of the week got to you, and so yes over the years he had taken precautions to protect himself, the only problem was that none of the precautions made him feel any safer, in fact it had the opposite effect, because now there were more potential killers. `` So where are you going today sir?'' said a guard. `` Lab 17'' the guard nodded, then taped that into his smartphone. There was no Lab 17 or for them matter a lab 1 or 2 or 3 or... all of the `` labs'' were named after characters from Star Trek, but, the world knew that, so if they intercepted a message saying there were off to Quarks then they would know where he was off to, and so set a trap. So for now Quarks was Lab 17, but tomorrow, who know? Quarks could be Lab 55 and Riker could be Lab 17, the names were randomized by computer. 
 
 In the parking garage there were 10 cars, black with blacked out windows and identical number plates, illegal but how would the cops tell the difference between 10 identical cars with identical number plates? As far as anyone know he hand one car, good because that's the idea. Hardin pulled out his tablet, and booted up the random number app, his own design, this thing would pick which car he would use today, because the computer picked he could not be made to pick a car by some Derren Brown type mind trickery, nope, Hardin and always trusted the computer more than people and lately more than his own mind. The app popped up the number 8. He walked over to car 8 and got in, a few seconds later 10 drivers walked into the room. Since all the windows of the cars were blacked out and there was a divider between the front and back seats the driver would not know which car Hardin was in, more levels of security. The cars set off out of the garage, each bullet proofed car took a different, randomized root to Quarks, any killers out there would not know which car he was in and if they hit the wrong one, and the chances were good that they would, well then, they would find a hailstorm of smart bullets flying at them. Problem solved, right? Each individual threat was not the problem for Hardin, he had enough money to through on the problem that it was unlikely anyone would get close to him, the problem was the never ending flood of killers. `` It's open season on billionaires again I guess''. 
 
 The cars regrouped at Quarks, all but one, after a few minutes it arrived, the left hand side was bashed in and a string of bullet holes peppered the back door. None had got through the armour, a guard got out and handed him a piece of paper `` threat dealt with'' he said. 
 
 `` See, that's a good thing, you survived another attack without even been there, and, its another killer off the books'' but still, once again he was reminded that now in this crazy world that sort of thing happened all the time, with the consent to the US government no less. Murder is now organised. 
 
 The test went well enough, but Hardin was distracted by the bullet riddled car, `` why, why do so many people spend so much time and energy in trying to kill me?'' This was the crux of the matter, he was one of the good guys, he helped people, OK so he made money off them too, but still. `` It's not like I'm some corrupt politician'' then he would understand, some people needed the wind putting up them, but he never did anything to deserve this. 
 
 Back in the car and home again, back to the relative safety of his skyscraper in downtown San-Francisco, well another day done, another killer dead, another bullet metaphorically dodged, by his standards a calm day. Not like last Monday, that was a bad one, the fire was still burning in the forest. That one had been one of the dumb yet vicious ones, not a good combination for a killer, people like that tended to fail at killing him but do a lot of damage to everything around them in the attempt. The guy had come at him with a flamethrower, in the middle of the summer! Everything was as dry as bone and had gone up in a heartbeat. He had managed to set what felt like half the state on fire before one of his guards clipped the gas tank with a well-aimed shot and the whole contraption, killer and all, had exploded, everywhere, resulting in ever more damage to the surrounding woodland and the smell of burnt flesh, lovely. 
 
 Well at least tomorrow may be better, at least tomorrow only 475 people would be trying to kill him. `` I feel better already.'' He thought `` Yar, no, no I do n't 475 is 475 to many'', maybe he should get a cat, they were meant to be relaxing were n't they, and at least the cat wouldn ’ t try to kill him. `` OK, fine I have a plan then, 475 people want to kill me in the most horrible painful way there sadistic minds can come up with, but it's OK because I am going to get a cat, that will make it all better.'' 

