Head Games Pt. 01

Hey all. All characters involved in sex are 18 or older. Because someone has tried to copy my work and post it online, I must state my all my work is protected by copyright laws. That being said, I hope you enjoy.

*****

"Seeing how this is our first session, why don't you tell me about yourself," she says as she tucks a long string of black hair behind her ear. Her dark brown eyes seem to flicker with the light coming through the window as she stares into mine.

"No offense, but I don't really care to tell my life's story to a complete stranger. Why don't you tell me a little about yourself first," I say.

"Very well." She gives me a smile as bright as a daisy. "There's really not much to say. I grew up with my sister. I knew early in life what I wanted to do with myself. I've always been interested in learning about what makes people tick so I decided to study psychology in school. One thing led to another and here I am, sitting with you now."

She left out quite a few details. The part about her transition in college. The incident she had as a kid. Her absent mother. The death of her father. Yes, I know all about her.

Other than the few black stains in her past, she seems like a somewhat trustworthy person of integrity, unlike myself. I'm the type of guy who can take another man's life without giving it another thought. At least that's what I did last night. Not like he didn't deserve it. That's beside the point.

"So, now I think it's your turn to share," she says, still showing me the beauty of her smile.

"Well, what would you like to know?" I ask.

"Anything... Everything," she says. "Why don't you start with what brought you here."

"A friend told me I needed to see a head shrink. That's all," I mutter. The thought of the old man brings back a flood of memories. Always putting his nose where it didn't belong.

"We prefer the term therapist. Head shrink just comes off a little." Her eyes scrunch together like she ate something sour and she twists her hand in the air. "Harsh."

"Therapist it is," I say.

"So tell me, why do you think your friend suggested you see a therapist?" she asks.

"My line of work weighs heavy on the conscience." I lean back and rest my leg on my knee. Her office is rather neat, but she seems to have a thing for elephants. They're everywhere.

"And what kind of work is that?" she asks.

"I'm a contract assassin," Her eyes widen at my statement. I let out a chuckle and she relaxes a little. I'm sure she thinks I'm joking.

"Oh..." she says. She brings the tip of her pen to her lush lips coated in a light pink lipstick. "Well... So what do you actually do?

"I wasn't joking, I kill people for money," I say with a smile.

She lets out a sigh. I can tell she thinks I'm full of shit. "How about we start from the beginning. What was your childhood like?"

"That's a wound I'd rather keep sealed," I laugh.

"And that's precisely why we should talk about it," she says.

"I didn't have a typical childhood," I say.

"Tell me about your parents," she says.

"Can't. Never met them."

"So you were an orphan?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"You could say that."

"Mr. Hunter, you're going to have to expand on that if you want my help. I can't make an assessment without the proper information," she says.

"Well, I was raised in a boarding school-like environment. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but it made me proficient in my line of work."

"What exactly went on in this boarding school?" she asks.

"We were put through countless drills, made to fight each other. But through rigorous regimes. Taught to kill. Nothing out of the ordinary," I say.

"Are you kidding me? That sounds awful! That's abuse," she says.

"Eh, that's nothing," I say. "That can't even light a match to the things I've seen and done."

"Like what?" she asks.

"The things I've seen in my line of work will leave you heaving up your lunch. But what else would you expect when you're paid to kill people."

"Can you give any examples?" she asks. I adjust my glasses. The feed I get from the camera I stuck on the front of her office door gives me a clear view of the hallway in the lens of my glasses.

"No, not really," I sigh. I'm sure she doesn't want all the gory details. Besides, I don't think she really believes me. I wouldn't even believe it myself if our roles were reversed. I'm sure she has tons of patients who are pathological liars. There's no real way to prove the truth behind my words without putting her in danger.

And so far, I'm starting to like her.

"As a doctor, I understand. But, there is such a thing as client, patient confidentiality. Anything you say to me will stay between you and me." She swings her pointer finger between the both of us. I can feel it in her face... She definitely thinks I'm full of shit.

"Let's move on to something else," I say.

"What would you like to talk about?" she asks.

"Well, my friend said I'm a little OCD about things. Overly sarcastic. I believe he called me narcissistic. Let's work on those," I say.

That smile she's trying to hold back makes me believe she still thinks I'm joking.

"Even though I'm totally paraphrasing, that's what he said. Narcissistic, can you believe that? Me? Narcissistic?"

I can't hold it in anymore. I laugh so hard, my lungs hurt. "Okay, that's totally true. But, come on. Everyone in my line of work is a little bit of a Narcissist."

She nods her head with straight lips and wide eyes. She definitely thinks I'm crazy.

"I guess, narcissism is as good as a place to start as any. Tell me, did your friend give any reasons as to why he thinks you're narcissistic?"

"Oh, many times over. He says I like to showboat. I lack any humility. I'm too much of an attention-seeking asshole. But he didn't say I was a dumbass, so that's saying something."

"Why does he think that?" she asks.

"Well, it could have to do with the incident we had in Vegas. It was work-related. But the short summary is that I got the job done. I don't really understand why he feels that I'm an attention-seeking asshole? Sure I may have snorted a line of coke off of a woman's breasts and while I played in a game of high stakes poker with the money we were supposed to use for our assignment. But so what? Not only did I complete the assignment, I emptied all of those chumps' pockets. I see it as a win-win."

"Yeah, I can see why he might think you're a bit narcissistic."

"Was it the coke? Or the fact that I snorted it off a woman's bare breasts? No, I know, it's the poker?"

"You want the honest truth?" she says.

I nod my head. "Give it to me straight, doctor."

"Did you even at all consider your partner's feelings in all this? Did you ask him his thoughts on the matter?"

"Well." I shrug my shoulders. "You know when you're in the heat of the miss... Task, sometimes you have to make decisions, like an audible. You watch football, right?"

"Not really, but I know what an audible is. But you also have to consider the fact that he is your partner. If you want him to remain your partner you should consider his view on your task at hand."

"So you're saying, if I don't like a potential partner, just ignore them and they'll eventually go away? That's good advice."

"No! That's not at all what I'm saying. How did you get that from what I said?"

"But you just said that if I want him to remain, my partner, I should consider his view. Flipside of that is if I don't want him as a partner, I should ignore him."

She grips her pen so hard, her knuckles whiten. "Let's move onto something else."

"Let's," I agree. "So, you said you had an interest in people, is that why you became a therapist? I mean, you could've easily went into a different field of psychology, right?"

"True, I guess I really just want to help people." She shifts in her seat and crosses her leg over the other as her skirt rides up her thighs, revealing more of her smooth dark caramel legs. I can tell she's not comfortable talking about herself.

"So, let's talk more about your time at the boarding school," she says.

"What more is there to talk about? We were pushed to the brink of our limits. Pitted against each other and taught how to become a lethal weapon. What more is there to say?" I sigh.

Her eyes narrow as she clicks her pen. "I get the feeling that you're hiding behind the ideology of a dream you've had growing up. I totally understand what it's like to want to escape our reality, but we do so at the cost of the present."

I can't help but chuckle. It's clear that she doesn't believe a word I said. I mean, if we're being honest, who would believe me?

"Tell me about what happened to your parents? Growing up without them must have been hard," I say.

Her eyes widen, showing the whites surrounding her irises. "Excuse me?"

"Your parents, your mother left you and your father died when you were young, isn't that right?" I ask.

"How... how did you know about that?" she asks.

"I know a lot about you, Dr. Woodcomb. I've done my homework." I spread my arms out on the couch. She shifts uncomfortably as her eyes narrow at me. "I know about the incident that got you expelled from your high school. I know about your transition in college and a lot of other stuff."

"I don't understand. Are you stalking me?" she asks as she nearly snaps her pen in half.

"No. Not really. Honestly, it was never really about you. You see, it's more about your ex-client, Thomas Bilton."

"My ex-client? I just spoke with him yesterday. And I can't talk about my clients," she says crossing her arms against her chest.

I reach into my coat as I explain things. "Well, Thomas was murdered last night. He was a bad man involved in shitty things. Unfortunately for you, you were his therapist."

"So..." she says the panic is starting to take over her face.

I pull out my gun. Right on cue, another hitman is walking up to her office. They're too late. "Well, you see, there's now a hit on your head."

I pull the gun up at her. "Please, don't do this. I..." She closes her eyes as she puts up hands up and begs.

I pull the trigger as soon as the guy busts through the door.

Thank god for the silencer. It makes things a lot less noisy. Sure, it doesn't make things less messy, but it does keep it quiet.

The wall gets painted red as the body hits the floor.

Dr. Woodcomb opens her eyes as tears fall down her cheeks. She looks down at her body and pats herself down. Then she looks over at the entrance and gasps. Sprawled on the floor is the body of a dead assassin drenched in a pool of his own blood. I change the video feed in my glasses to show the hallway and entrance.

"Fortunately for you, I'm after the people who are after you," I say.

"What the fuck!" Her eyes look like they're going to pop out of her head.

"I don't know how I can explain it any other way. There's a contract on your head. People other than me want to kill you."

"Why me? I'm his therapist. He never told me anything that seemed off."

"It's a precaution. The people we're dealing with don't like to take any chances. He was murdered and they want to make sure the things he knew don't fall into the hands of the good guys."

She's now just totally speechless. I guess I can't really blame her. Any normal person would be shitting their pants right now.

"What do I do now?"

"Well. We're probably going to want to... How do I say this... Get the fuck out of here. I'm sure there'll be another one coming after this guy."

"I can't just leave! I have a life here. What about my friends and family?" She stands up and starts to pace back and forth as she runs her hands through her hair and yanks on it. "I can't just up and leave my practice. What are my patients going to do? This... this is absurd!"

"Look, do you really think the men who are after you care about your family, friends, and clients? They'll kill anyone who gets in their way to claim their payment. You'd be helping them if you left town."

"Where should I go?"

"Like I said earlier, you'll have to come with me."

"And why should I trust you? You just pulled a gun on me earlier."

"To be fair, I did save your life and I'm one of the few assassins who doesn't want to sever your head from your body. But in all honesty, I wouldn't trust me either. As long as I'm being honest, I'll admit my only interest in you is using you as bait to draw out my enemy and kill them all. But at least I'm telling you the truth."

She looks awfully pale. "Who are they?"

"You know, you don't look so good, I would suggest that you might want to sit down, but honestly if we stay here any longer I'm going to have to kill another one of them."

I get up and start heading to the door.

"I have to pack a bag. I can't leave without..." A man I recognize as Shawn Banks, another assassin from my ex organization walks into the building.

"We can't wait for that. We have to leave now!" I say as I grab her arm and start dragging her out of the office. I switch the feed on the camera to the stairway just in time to see Banks on his way up.

"At least let me grab a coat!" She yanks her coat off of the coat rack as I pull her out of the office and down the opposite side of the hall to the far stairway away from Banks.

"Where are we going, it's much quicker to go the other way."

"Yeah. no... If you want to run into the Serpent's assassin that way. Sure we can go there. You have a much better chance of living if we go this way."

She doesn't say a word, just follows me. We make it down the stairs to the parking garage to the car I'm using currently, an old Ford fusion I found at a Walmart parking lot sits waiting for us.

I peel out of there as if a skunk let loose a stink bomb. I make quick time through the streets of downtown Chicago eventually making it to the freeway.

After we've been on the freeway for a while, she finally speaks up. "Will you finally explain what the fuck is going on?"

"Look, your old client, Thomas worked for an organization known as the Jade Serpent. They're pretty much the epitome of evil and want to control every aspect of the world. Anyways, I killed him last night. Now they're trying to close loose ties."

"And why am I considered a loose tie?"

I shrug. "You're his therapist, he might have told you something. I don't know."

"And why are you helping me?"

"As I said before, I'm after the Jade Serpent. They're after you. Therefore, you're the perfect bait to draw them out so I can kill them."

"So that's all I am to you?"

"Yep. Hey, it's better than being a bounty. At least I don't want you dead," I say.

"Why are you after this "Jade Serpent" organization?" she asks.

"I used to work for them and when I say work, I mean they enslaved me as a kid and trained me to become one of their many deadly weapons."

"So, everything you said back there was true?" she asks.

"Of course, why wouldn't it be?"

"This is all way too much to handle!"

I pull off at the next exit and pull into a parking lot for carpools.

"Of course it is," I say as I park the car.

"What are we doing?" she asks.

"Trading cars. We can't just drive this stolen car around. It tends to draw attention."

"You stole this car?" She stares at me all wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

"Of course, you can't expect me to drive the same car around everywhere. Might as well put up a sign that says bounty here on the windshield," I say as I get out.

She gets out too. "Thank god I keep a spare car hidden for occasions like these."

I walk over and unlock the Prius.

"Get in," I say as I hop into the driver's seat of the Prius and start her up.

Once she hops in I take off and get back on the highway.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

"One of my safe houses. It's not that far from here."

"When will I get to see my friends and family again?" she asks.

"When everyone after you is dead."

"What? But... That could take forever. What if..."

"Relax. Just calm down."

"How can I calm down? I was almost killed by an assassin. Now I'm on the run for my life with another assassin. And you want me to relax?"

"You are strung up way too tight. Here. Let me put on some music. That usually helps." I turn the radio on to a girl band.

"Music isn't going to help! How can you be so calm?"

"This is a walk in the park for me. I've been doing this for as long as I can remember. Just keep your cool and do what I say. You'll be fine."

I turn off the next exit and after a few miles turn off into a subdivision. As I pass house after house, I finally pull into one at the far end. I park the car in the garage and we both get out.

"This is the safe house?" she asks looking around.

"Yep, one of them at least."

"Not what I was expecting," she says as she follows me inside.

"And what were you expecting?" I ask.

"I don't know. Something shabby and run down piece of garbage. Maybe a crack house or something."

"Yeah, that's what most people expect. But no one expects an upscale suburban house. We'll hide in plain sight. You just have to act like a suburban housewife and no one will suspect a thing."

We stroll into the average and plan looking kitchen. "There's food in the fridge. Eat whatever you like. I'll run to the store later and stock up on groceries. You should probably make a list if you want anything."

"Oh, and also. You probably should stay inside for the time being. It's best to be incognito. Decreases the odds the bad guys will find you," I say.

I open the door and head downstairs.

"I was expecting lots of weapons and whatnot," she says. "This place looks fairly simple and... Well. Normal."

Of course, she follows me down. As soon as I turn on the lights, she lets out a gasp.

"Most of the house looks normal, besides for scattered caches of weapons here and there, but the basement is my armory."

There's a large vault door and behind it, is a room almost as big as the basement itself. Weapons lined the walls. A large 10 monitor computer takes up the entire back wall. Adjacent to it is a large cork board with pictures, articles, and bios of all my targets with string and tacks connecting them together. I walk over and grab a Sharpy to X out Frank, the hitman who attacked back at the head shrinks office. A bunk bed lays against the wall. A couch sits next to the bed and there are a few shelves with a year's worth of nonperishable food.

"Make yourself at home," I say.

"Right..." She says with such a flat tone. She looks as if she just ate something fowl.

"You know, we never got a chance to finish our session? I think we were about to make a breakthrough before we were so rudely interrupted?" I say as I shut the vault door.

"Are you serious?" she asks.

"What? You are a therapist, right?" I ask.

"My life has just been turned upside down and you want me to counsel you?" she asks.

"Sounds about right," I say.

"Unbelievable!" she collapses on the couch as her head falls into her hands. She starts to cry. Shit... I should probably say something. I've never been really good in moments like these. I take a seat next to her and place my hand on her back.

"Hey, cheer up. I'll kill them all eventually and then you can go back to being a head shrink," I say. Fuck, I said head shrink, didn't I? "I mean, therapist."

She looks up at me with bloodshot eyes. "Is there really going back?"

"Who knows. One things for sure, you're still alive. Anything could happen."

She leans into me and wraps her arms around my waist. "Thank you."

As gently as I can, I pull her in tight. She buries her head into my chest. Just then, my phone goes off.

I pull myself away from her and answer it. "I've got a lead on Garvoni. He's meeting with a senator. You have a small window to pick him off."