Darren

Darren munched on his sandwich as he looked at the TV. He could feel his mother's eyes on him, probably waiting for him to look at her, but he ignored her, because he wasn't ready to talk to her about his job. The newsreader was screaming at the top of her voice about how unjust Wilson's death was.

"Darren..." his mom started. 

"Don't," he warned, looking down at his t-shirt. He had changed out of his suit as soon as he had finished eating his first sandwich. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm just saying, honey, there are better jobs!" she exclaimed. "Not as well paying as this!" he retorted. She quietened at his statement, because it was the truth. Before he became a sniper, they had practically been living on the streets. Now, they had a decent apartment to call home, and food they could survive on, because he was working. And what did it matter that a few rich people had to pay for his mom's and his livelihood?

His iPhone, which he had bought with the cash from his first job, vibrated on the sofa next to him, but he ignored it, still quite annoyed by the conversation. "Pick it up, Darren!" his mom commanded. The phone was right on the edge of the sofa, about to fall off, when he picked it up.

 "Hello?" he grumbled. 

"Café Marco, 5:00 pm," an unrecognizable voice spoke. Darren heard a click before he could say anything else.

"I just finished a bloody job, give me a break," he growled. 

"You don't have to do it, hon," his mom added.

"I have to!" he snapped. "If I'm gonna make you eat, I have to!" He got up and stormed into his room, the sound of his door closing following his mother's sigh.

He pulled open the door to the closet, which was sparsely filled with a few clothes. Darren grabbed a blue hoodie folded neatly on the shelf, and pulled it on. He looked into the mirror on the door, and ran a hand through his dark hair. He stroked his chin, examining the slight beard on his chin. He would have to shave it off soon.

He walked towards the door of his room, took a deep breath and opened it. His mother was staring at him, a pleading look in her eyes. He roughly shook his head, grabbing his bag on the sofa, and exited the house. After he reached the ground floor, he stopped and took his iPhone out. He opened Maps and searched for Café Marco, and saw that it was practically an hour away. He sighed, and began walking towards the Metro station, the only way out of the tangle of streets where his house was located.

*  *  *  *  *

Darren sat at a table outside Café Marco, under an umbrella, waiting for the caller to show up. He realized that the place he was sitting echoed how Amanda Wilson was sitting before she was killed by him, and was musing about what would happen if somebody shot him like he had shot Wilson, when a guy slid into the chair opposite him. He was short, hair hidden under a flat cap. He had a grin spread across his face, that didn't reach his eyes. The guy opened his mouth, and the voice from the phone call earlier came out. He had an Australian accent. "G'day mate! You doing alright?" he asked, still grinning. 

Darren flashed a fake smile, and nodded. "I just saw you, mate, and I thought I should say hello, but I can't talk more, because I've got to be going, yeah?" he spoke hurriedly. He grabbed a tissue and scribbled on it. "So, what you do is..."  he finished scribbling, licking his lips, and put his hand out for Darren to take it. "My address is on that, so you stop by, yeah?" 

Darren took it from him. He felt something stuck underneath the tissue, but he didn't turn it around to see what it was. On the tissue, were illegible numbers. He knew they meant nothing. Darren looked at the supposed Aussie, who was standing now. "I'll see you then," Darren said, and gave his own cheeky grin back. The man raised his eyebrows, nodded and left. 

Darren looked back down at the tissue and gripped it tighter. The man was already on the opposite side of the street, and disappeared into the crowd. Darren also got up and left.

*  *  *  *  *  

 Darren sat in the train, his laptop on his lap. He looked around, making sure no one was around, and switched it on. He had the tissue on the seat next back, and a chip, which was the thing attached to the tissue, lying next to it. He inserted the chip into the laptop, and a window opened up. There was a vague photo of a girl looking back, and the clearest thing about her face were her piercing grey eyes. 

Right underneath the photo was a small paragraph about the girl, but Darren saw none of that, continuing to stare at her photo, because it was familiar to him, oh, so familiar. The sound of the train stopping snapped him out of his trance, and he looked at the sentence right below the photo. 

"Target - Chloe Garnett."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Update: changed the description of a newly introduced character)