Description
Aiden aimed his pistol at the strange man standing in his living room, unwavering. The man looked at him, his cold slate-colored eyes darkening beneath the scar over his brow as he held the glass of bourbon in his hand, his other hand in his pocket. "What is it you stand for, Mister Garrett?" The strange man asked. Aiden paused at the strange question. He didn't know how to answer, or why he felt like he should answer. "That's what I thought," the stranger said with a small, mocking smile. "This...job of yours, it just doesn't do it for you anymore, does it? A few targets here, some bodies there...At first, it was a rush---now it's just become monotonous, hasn't it?" Aiden was becoming increasingly nervous at this stranger's knowledge of his life. He wondered how much more he knew. "I'm offering you a second chance here, kid." The stranger eyed his drink as he swirled it a bit. "A chance to do some good and make good changes in the world." Aiden suddenly found his voice. "And if I don't take your offer?" "Then, you're as useless to us as the people you worked for," the stranger said as he took another sip of his bourbon. "Your skills are valuable, Mister Garrett, but this job I'm offering to you is more for your sake than mine." Dark slate eyes darkened even further as they bore through Aiden's own. "You may be one in a million, but that just means there are seven thousand others out there just like you."
Prologue
