This year's version is Dr. Cooke. Dr. Cooke was educated at the University of Michigan, apparently in "new age bullshit." Dr. Cooke believes I should keep a journal so that I can "capture my feelings as they occur." Here's a feeling then – I feel like a right prat.
Fine then. I'm called Pete Wisdom. You note I said, "called." It's not my real name, but in my line of work real names are a hindrance. What I am is a cleaner. An assassin's assassin. Not the spotless antihero of the James Bond flicks. I'm who gets sent in when the job goes tits-up, and people have to disappear. At least, that's what I was trained to be before I got sent here.
"Here" is a very fashionable office complex in the heart of London, where the organization I work for is located. I'd tell you who they were, if they had a name. But they don't. My mates and I call them "Code Black," just so we have something to refer to them by. It's the place where, if you're working in an espionage shop for a NATO treaty country, you get sent when you've cocked things up so badly that you're a liability anywhere but on suicide missions; you've really pissed off some important, paper-pushing accountant who calls himself an "agency director;" you're so fucking good at what you do that local missions start getting boring, and you start international incidents just for fun; or all three. I'll let you guess which one I am.
Anyway, I work with three other nutjobs – Marlena Braddock, Andrea Smith, and Jason Carlossi. No, of course those aren't their real names. Marlena our face (actually, she's a lot of faces, know what I mean?); Jason has a bigger death wish than I do, as proven by the times he's free-jumped from shit no taller than my stereo cabinet; and Andrea's "ears and a mouth, and a whole suitcase full of unpleasantness." My job on the team is to make sure everyone gets in and gets out alright. Occasionally that means I have to kill a lot of people on our way in or out of a tight spot.
I think it's the fact that I'm fine with that. Dr. Cooke seemed a little put off when he asked me what I usually did after a mission of that kind, and I replied, "sleep like a baby." I give him three more months. Two, if he actually reads these entries.
I guess in the next couple of days, I'll tell you about our last movie night. Andrea seems to think it shows a lighter side of the team. I think it constitutes evidence admissible in a court of law, but what do I know?
Pleasant dreams, Doc.