Posting schedule finalized: every other day, it is. Unless I am traumatized by a dying kitten or play soccer to the point where I can’t move my arms. Then, it’s whenever I’m healthy enough to make something. 
If you just surfed in, welcome to the party—be sure to read part 1 and part 2 first.
***
There’s something alluring about the strangers waving you in, and behind them the back door on the limo pops open. You have to make up your mind quick, before the other handcuff locks your wrists together.
Am I actually contemplating running from the police? You think. You allow yourself a moment to smile at the absurdity of the situation before taking a leap of faith. In one motion, you push off with your right foot, using your body’s leverage to break away from the officer and scoop up the bag.
The officer shouts at you and yells into his radio, and you feel a swell of panic at the realization that you have just unwittingly become a criminal. Any chance of explaining the misunderstanding and getting an all clear has been wiped away.
The two strangers spring into action, and sprint toward the limo at the opposite side of the street. The man holds the door open as the female dives in, and he waves you in. You leap over the fence and run into the street, paying no attention to the traffic, which is forced to brake and honk.
You dive into the open door and are greeted with a rush of cool air. You hear the door slam behind you and feel the force of the car peeling away before you can turn around, pull yourself into a chair, and look at the strangers.
The man who held the door open for you is seated nearest the door, and across from him sits the woman. You sit on her side, but on the opposite end of the limo. There is another woman sitting beside the man, and someone else directly across from you.
“Greg Channing,” you whisper, upon recognizing the CEO you were supposed to be interviewing with. You look again at the girl next to him.
“Hey, You,” Beth says through her hand, holding a blood soaked tissue tight to her nose. “Thanks for getting my bag.”
An involuntary laugh escapes your mouth and you fall back into the seat cushion with an exasperated sigh. You hold the bag in your lap. “I hope there’s more than just a pocket book in here.”
“There is,” Greg Channing nods.
“My lipstick.” A nasally sounding Beth continues to hold her nose with one hand but reaches out with the other. Despite what you feel is an obvious joke, no one in the limo is laughing. You hold out the bag with both hands, and she takes it from you and sets it in her lap. She steadies it with her elbow and uses her free hand to open it.
A few awkward moments pass, with Beth shuffling around, the suited strangers watching her, and Greg Channing staring idly out the window with his hands clasped in his lap.
“Everything is here,” Beth looks at Channing, who nods.
“Well, it appears we owe you a debt of gratitude.” Channing finally looks at you in the eye and extends a hand. “It’s not every day a relative nobody single handedly saves our entire organization.”
You idly take his hand and shake it.
Feeling at ease, you let your guard down a bit and the questions start flowing. “What the hell happened out there?” You look over your shoulder to see if you’re being followed. “And where are the police?”
“Our company was the victim of an attempted robbery, and the police are where they’re supposed to be.”
“What’s in the bag?”
Channing opens his mouth, hesitates, then smiles. He puts his head to one side and looks at you.
Beth leans over to him. “I think we can trust him. We owe him that.”
“I’m sorry,” Channing shakes his head. “We do owe you, but we have protocols to follow. I can only reveal what’s in the bag to senior staff at Omega Integrity.”
“I understand,” you say.
Another awkward moment passes, with Channing looking out the window. Beth continues to stare at him.
“Let’s start the second interview,” he says suddenly. “I remember you from our last meeting. Your interview was full of formalities and the typical bullshitting back and forth, wasn’t it?” He asks.
You nod. “Well, I don’t know if you should say bullshi—“
“No, that’s exactly what it was. I recall you saying you’d actually enjoy working overtime and that you’d be happy to fetch me coffee in the morning. You even used the phrase go-getter more than once.”
After a moment, you prompt him to continue. “Okay.”
“Anyway, the second interview is much shorter. I just have one question, and if you answer it correctly I’ll even tell you what’s in the bag.”
“Okay.”
“How do you interpret our mission statement?”
“Well, I suppose,” it’s a question you’ve prepared for, and already have an answer lined up. “I suppose it really speaks to the second part of the name, Omega Integrity. Integrity is doing the right thing, knowing that everyone else might not see it as such. Some might not notice you even did anything at all. Real integrity can be thankless.”
Channing nods, and doesn’t miss a beat in replying. “The bag contains vital materials needed for the construction of a nuclear bomb that we intend to detonate over the city.”
You know that your mouth is hanging open, but are powerless to close it. You glance around the limo, sure again that you’ve just been told a joke—but as before, nobody is laughing.
“I’m prepared to hire you to my senior staff,” Channing continues. “The job means long hours, plenty of overtime, and very little social life. It pays three hundred thousand with a two hundred thousand signing bonus. You’d be sworn to secrecy but I swear to you, you’ll be doing nothing less than saving the world on a day to day basis. The catch is, nobody will thank you for it.”
You look at Beth, who continues to dab her bloody nose. The suited strangers are silent as ever and stare at the passing scenery.
“So what do you say?”
Voting ends Wednesday at 9pm, EST.
H esaid “over” the city….
helllzzz yeah. that's a hell of a lot of mulllahh!
Indeed he did. That's where it needs to detonate to cause maximum destruction. More here: http://www.3ammagazine.com/magazine/issue_4/art...
“We intend to detonate a nuclear bomb over the city, here's $500,000, come work for us?”
Not the decision I'd make, but it's not about me.
I choose to take the job because if he didn't they would probably kill him now he may have a chance to do the right thing, or find out more of whats going on.
True, I doubt they'd simply let you walk away after that. But who knows…