Wild Time/Time to Die
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
My name is Jared Theramore.
Now, who am I, and why should you care?
I ask myself the same question every day.
The Simple Life
The year was 2010. The month was December. I don't know what the day was, but it was some time before Christmas. I was a courier for this guy aptly named Mr. Abbracciavento. Longest name I ever heard, and it's a wonder that I can remember it. I'm still not sure to this day what he had me shipping around was completely legal; the customers were almost always relatively shady or unusually destitute. He told me never to search the packages.
At the time I was in a search for a Christmas gift for my wife, Sara. She was always my best girl. Anyway, point is, the job payed decently and as long as I could provide and didn't know exactly what I was packing, I was a happy man. Don't get why that kept me content, but it did.
One day, Mr. A (as I called him; considering the length of his name) had called me into his office in the good old Port Oakes. I stepped inside only to find a scene that would change my life forever.
Your Own Boss
I walked inside the office building. This part I can remember very vividly, like one of those dreams you can remember forever and ever. We shared the office space with some Koreans who imported electronics from their family back home and sold them for bigger profit over here. They were somewhat strange people, honestly. They'd always carry out these boxes into a Subaru and then hurry back inside, and I wasn't quite sure why.
I waved to Nora, the receptionist. She told me Mr. A wanted to speak to me, in person. I'd not met him in person as of yet, and I didn't know why. I couldn't imagine that I was getting fired or, better yet, promoted. The tension in my chest gripped me like a clenched fist. I had an optimistic view of things, though, so I didn't mind much.
Approaching the door, I knocked. A panicked man spoke.
"Come in... come in! COME IN!"
Confused, I opened the door to see a short, relatively dark-skinned man, likely of Italian descent. He stood with this horrified look on his face, idly, with his back pressed up against the glass. His jaw was practically dropped to the floor, and his eyes darted between me and his desk. He took a deep breath and then began to speak.
"Listen, uh... I need you... to walk very carefully... over to my desk... and open that suitcase... and..."
His sentence dropped, but I didn't even take notice. All I could pay attention to was his tone of voice. He was definitely scared shitless... but of what? I guess I had to find that out for myself.
I opened the suitcase to find a rolled up sheet of notebook paper (which, upon further inspection, appeared to have cash rolled up inside,) a photo ID of Mr. A and then... a six-shot revolver. I pulled out the revolver, inspected it, and then looked to Mr. A. He promptly nodded, looking down at his desk. Very suddenly, I heard a voice.
"Wrong move, Mistah A."
In a matter of seconds, Mr. A was suddenly launched through the glass wall. I had no idea what had just hit him, but I was horrified. A man in a green suit and zipper, grinning mask appeared from the bottom of the desk.
Terrified, I aimed the revolver at him and shot. It flew through the air at lightning speed and then slammed him in the shoulder. He grasped his shoulder with a grimace. Suddenly, I'd seen a green flash surround him and the wound disappear. Dumbfounded, I eventually shot again, and again, and again. Six times.
But by then he was already under the desk and I'd realized I was missing all my bullets.
He appeared again, laughing maniacally.
"What's th'matter, guy? Don'cha wanna be your own boss?"
