One Hell of a Business

Dave was not in a good mood. Then again, that was no surprise. His patience had been running on fumes ever since the day Ava, his long-term girlfriend had told him it “was probably for the best if they started seeing other people”. The revelation had caught him completely off-guard, turning dreams of old into nightmares he couldn’t get rid of. Anyone that came to talk to him after that incident had to be prepared to deal with his mood swings or else…

When he opened the front door of his apartment that Friday morning and saw the elegant brunette dressed in a three-piece navy-blue suit and wearing the darkest sunglasses he had ever seen, the first words that came out of his half-sleepy mouth were, “Whatever it is you’re selling, I’m not interested. Go away!”

“Oh, I’m not a saleswoman, Mr. Sanders. Your bank sent me to discuss what’s going on with your mortgage,” she smiled. “May I come in?”

“No, you may not. I received your letter and will deal with the situation next week, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“I do not,” she pushed her left foot forward, preventing him from closing the door. “It’s been ‘next week’ for you for almost three months now and that’s frankly unacceptable. We’re having this conversation today, Mr. Sanders, whether you want it or not.”

“Oh, really?” he cracked a fist. “That sounded like a threat, and I hate being threatened. Please leave before I get mad.”

“I was hoping there would be no need for violence today, but since you disagree…” she smirked. “Boys, if you don’t mind…”

Before he could say or do anything else, two muscled men in their early twenties appeared out of nowhere and pushed him inside the house. They were wearing the same clothes: a combo of black pants and a white tank top and exhibited similar tattoos on the back of their necks. The first read “133” and the other “134”. Not much of a fighter, even though he liked to pretend otherwise, Dave was easily overpowered by their efficient brutality. As he lay on the carpet, gasping for air, the woman who introduced herself as “Jane”, said,

“You brought this on yourself, so don’t complain. Are you ready to listen to what I have to say?”

“What do you want?” he spat fresh blood on the floor.

“All overdue mortgage payments would be nice, but let’s be real here. They wouldn’t have sent me if they believed they were getting their money back on such short notice. No, Mr. Sanders, I’m here to enforce clause 74a of your agreement with our institution.”

“What’s that?” he tried to get up, all muscles in his body in shambles as if he had been run over by a speeding train.

“Jane” produced a white sheet of paper with cursive letters written in blood-red ink and read,

“In the absence of confirmed payment of the established sum for more than three consecutive months, the institution reserves the right to take control of your body and mind in any way it sees fit for an equal period of time.”

“What the hell? I don’t remember signing that!” he gasped.

“No one ever reads the contracts in full, but our Legal Department is always on top of things. Your services are required, Mr. Sanders. This won’t take long.”

“What are you going to do?”

“You’ll see,” she removed her sunglasses, revealing two orbs of enchanting malice. Their ominous glow engulfed the room.

* * *

Dave was not in a good mood. In fact, he had no mood at all. His mind had been wiped clean, and no thoughts of defiance were allowed to thrive inside. Dressed in black pants and a white tank top, he just had to look menacing enough and occasionally show a faulty customer what happened to those who failed to live up to their obligations. The tattoo on the back of his neck was still fresh and would go away when his debt was settled, whenever that may be. Until then, he was always on call, and “Jane” made sure he never strayed while at her service. There were still a lot of things he didn’t understand, but the bank’s motto was not one of them.

“One hell of a business,” the commercials said. So true.

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