Timothy Shelfer, was one of the
of the United States best undercover agents. At a towering five feet, five
inches, he was pale as a vampire. Weighing in at 260 pounds, makes up for it in
muscle. He put down his pen, signing his name for the hundredth time this
morning, he’s only been clocked in for half an hour. Leaning back, thinking
about his tiny office, he just moved into it from a cubical a week ago. His
phone startled him. Strange, He wasn't easily scared. He reached forward and
picked the phone up out of its cradle, took a breath, and spoke.
“Timothy’s office, this is…Timothy”.
He said this awkwardly. Somehow he made it to be a field agent.
A lower voice spoke “Tim, we have your cousin captive. We
know what you do, and we know what you’re capable of. Find us and we can
negotiate” this voice was muffled. He had no idea who this was. So he asked the
obvious question.
“Who is this?”
“Timothy. We know your intelligent, so just find us.”
Tim had no idea what was going on. He had control of his
life. Everything was going right, he had a girlfriend, Susan. Who was an
amazing girl, always lifted him up, and moved him forward. She was beautiful in
his eyes. He had a well-paid Job. A Running car, it was paid for. Everything
was going for him. This phone call pulled him out of his comfort zone, threw
him in some mud, and kicked him in the face a few times. He forgot he was still
on the phone.
“Look I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t have a
cousin. And-“
The voice interrupted “Her name is Heather Shelfer. Ring a
bell?”
Timothy was speechless, this made his skin crawl. “I don’t
have any cousins…that I know of”
“Look Tim…” This bothered him. No one calls him Tim. “… We've
done the research. What did you Mom tell you about your Dad’s murder?”
Timothy thought this was getting strange, but he answered.
“My mother told me that My Dad was murdered alongside my uncle…why?”
“Your uncle’s name was Teddy Shelfer. He was a private
investigator. He worked for only those who offered the right price. He was a
bounty hunter. But Tim, your uncle was married, he was murdered during his wife’s
pregnancy, who died during the birth. But the baby survived.”
This was news to Timothy. He has a cousin. He was starting
to question the evil in this phone call. “So how old is this cousin? Is it a
‘He’ or a ‘she’? are you going to hurt-“
The voice interrupted again, how rude, “You have exactly
forty-eight hours to be walking in this room, or we will pump her full of
cyanide. It will be easy. The clock starts now” Timothy sat there in his suit,
lounging in an office chair, realizing he has a cousin in captivity. He needed
to save her. He spoke back into the phone
“I’ll be there, you can count on it”
But he realized that he was talking to nobody.
“How rude!”.
Just then his secretary walked in, she looked nice today.
Sandra was a short, darker toned, brunette. She walked smoothly up to his desk,
with an envelope in her hands. She set it down gently.
“Someone just delivered this, for you. They said you’d
better open it, its ‘urgent” She said it in quotation marks, in a lower voice.
Reading it out loud he was taking it all in “You will find
us in your home, we made sure your girlfriend won’t be coming for the dinner
date. So you can come in with no one else. Sit down at a table with us and we
can discuss the matters.”
Sandra had a puzzled look on her face, he tried covering it.
“It’s just a joke from a friend. Don’t worry about it. But I need to go.” He
stood grabbing his suit coat and putting it on, trying to stay cool. He started
making his way past her. Once he got past the wooden door he started running,
down the hallway, to the elevator. He smashed the ‘down’ button enough times to
please his conscious. The doors opened finally, and he got in and pressed the
‘Ground Floor’ Button. He was whispering under his breath.
“I am Timothy Shelfer. I am five
foot, five. I am a 38 years old. I don’t have any parents, I don’t really care
one way or another. But one thing I do care about, is this cousin of mine, that
I have never met. And I hope that I will be able too. Cause I am a good
person.”
1.2
Timothy was wrong. He was not a
good person. He spent his childhood in foster homes bullying the kids in
school, two of the kids committed suicide. Once he got to high school, he got
involved with Drugs, drinking, and sex. When he was 19, he robbed a convenience
store with his friend. When the cops showed up, he grabbed the money, shot his
friend in the knee, and took off running. He spent that night in an alley along
one of the side roads in New York City. He made a hobby out of making friends
and then betraying them. He made money while doing that. And that’s all that
matters. At the age of 23, his
reputation came back to bite him. A group of friends who he betrayed found him,
raided his apartment, and beat him. A few of them stayed up later to turn him
into the cops, where he stayed for 8 years. He was released early for good
behavior. When he got out he was 31
years old. He then joined the military. He quickly worked his way up the ranks.
They saw potential in him; at the age of 34 they asked him to be a field agent.
He agreed. He had organized a few, clean, successful, assassinations on
terrorists. He had become something great. He is a hero. But one thing he had
learned, is that you’re enemy’s define who you are. But he, Timothy George
Shelfer, had crowned death herself.
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