NAMO 08

Some people are gifted with the ability of being able to sell ice to the Eskimos but Tony was not one of those people.  “You see this machine doesn’t have a very large hard drive by today’s standards,” Tony told the man.  “More than likely you’ll barely get a year’s worth of use out of it before you’ll need to perform some sort of upgrade on the machine.  Between parts and labor I think you’d be better off spending a bit more up front.” While Tony truly had the customers best interest at heart, he tended to come across as someone trying to up sell the customer instead of being sincere.

 

The man simply nodded as he tried to work his way out of the privately owned store, “Well thanks for your help.  I’ll think about it.”

 

Taking an oversized hand Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, “Sure not a problem. If I can answer any questions just give me a call.  Or when your ready to pick up the machine just let me know and I’ll have it ready for you.  Just ask for me I’m Tony Talbot. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

 

Taking the card the man nodded again as he quickly retreated, “I’ll do that.”

 

For a man the size of Tony a small girlish sigh escaped from his lips.  Turning his 400 pound frame around he began slowly walking toward the employee counter as the other employee laughed at Tony..

 

“He’ll be back,” Tony said as he sat down in his chair behind the counter.

 

“Sure he’ll be back. To talk to a real salesman,” Bob replied with a not so subtle jab.

 

Tony frowned as he turned to face his computer screen and opened up a web browser.  It wouldn’t be so bad if they respected my knowledge and ability, Tony thought to himself. So I can’t sell computers. Is that really the end of the world?  Who do the clients come to when they have a problem though? Bob the used car salesman? No they come to Tony but it’s Bob that drives the new car because of our commission structure. Do they give me a commission for fulfilling the promises Bob and the others make? Do they give me a commission for fixing the computers when they’ve followed Bob’s advice and now it won’t turn on? No. I need to find another job.

 

Bob slowly walked over to Tony’s desk as he shook his head, “It’s not you’re fault you know Tony. Some people just don’t have the charisma to be a salesman. And even fewer have the gift of gab to make it to the top salesman position. I have been blessed though because I have the knowledge to share and the ability to give it to people where it doesn’t go over their head.”

 

The bell attached to the front door jingled as a man in a cheap tan suit entered the computer store. Bob patted Tony on the shoulder as he said, “I’ll take this one for you.” But before Bob had taken more then two steps away from Tony’s desk a gunshot rang out spraying Tony with Bob’s brain matter. It would be the last time that Bob offered Tony a piece of his mind.

Tony sat in his chair as the bullet which had just ended Bob’s life whizzed past his head. Bob’s body just stood for a long moment before finally collapsing towards the ground. What was left of Bob’s head hit the corner of Tony’s desk making a loud cracking noise as something in Bob’s neck snapped.

 

The man in the cheap suit leveled his gun at Tony as he advanced towards the mountain of a man frozen in his chair. He hovered on the other side of the body waiting. The man’s lean frame stood around 5’10” with dark hair and hollow eyes. Other than the gun in hand along with his apparent expertise in with the firearm he had the look of someone you might find leaned over a computer somewhere playing a game that involved exploring dark passages and looking for giant lizards. Someone that Tony might eventually call a friend if it wasn’t for the fact that the man had just killed his co-worker. But somewhere in the back of Tony’s mind that simply encouraged the fact that the killer could have been a friend.

 

Tony sat in his chair staring at the man and his gun unable to move.  For the last couple of weeks Tony had been having issues with his chair and having to slowly un-wedge himself. Now it appeared his mother was going to be right and his weight would be the death of him.

 

The man in the cheap suit quietly nodded, “I am impressed. A lesser man would have tried to run or tried to beg for his life. But you seem willing to accept your fate. Perhaps I have made the correct choice after all. Though I have to admit I had my doubts when I first saw you. Now get your personal belongings and come with me otherwise I’ll have to kill you as well.” Turning around the man headed back to the entrance and watched the street.

 

Tony sat there for another moment before pulling himself out of his chair to stand up.

 

The man in the cheap suit simply frowned at Tony, “Hurry up, you could be walking around dead and not even know it yet. We all could.”

 

Tony shook his head as he picked up his laptop bag and grabbed his cell phone as he asked, “Will I need anything other than this?”

 

“Body armor, assuming we have some to fight that girth, guns, knives, explosives. You know the usually day at work.”

 

Tony coughed as he headed towards the exit, “Usual day at work for whom? James Bond?”

 

The man in the suit stepped out onto the sidewalk as he shook his head, “A normal day for you Tony. At least from now on.”

 

As Tony stepped into the afternoon sun and onto the sidewalk he followed the man in the cheap suit. Looking up and the sidewalk Tony quickly counted up the number of innocent bystanders that could be walking around dead and not even know it.  I’ve got no idea how many bullets his gun holds or how many he’s used. If you go off the television shows then maybe 9 bullets max? And Bob’s head is holding one.  This is going to be my best chance for escape. But how many people will suffer?

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