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I approach the first pew and turn. Our guy's fourth attempt finally hit its mark, but only in the shoulder.
"...now I run from you..."
I walk forward to see the target dead on the ground, blood seeping from his shoulder and his head. The fifth shot did what one bullet in the confessional booth should have taken care of.
I smile.
"...oh, Tainted Love..."
It is a messed-up scene, that's for sure, but that only makes my job that much more interesting.
Scenes play out from start to finish in my mind, but I clean them from finish to start. That way, if I happen to be interrupted, there hopefully won't be any dead bodies or guns lying around.
I pull the plastic wrap from my bag and start the first job of wrapping the body.
As I wrap the plastic around the fifty-something-year-old, I wonder what his life was like and whether he ever expected to be gunned down in a church. Not only do I not want the details of the hit, I don't want the details of anyone's life or crimes. Feeling personally connected to anyone just makes my job that much harder.
"...now I'm gonna pack my things and go..."
The best way to approach this sort of thing is to remove yourself emotionally from the act. Bodies are the same as guns, are the same as fingerprints. It all just needs to be cleaned up.
By the time I reach the end of "Tainted Love," the body is wrapped. I pause to rewind the tape. I only ever listen to one song during each clean. I actually don't even remember jobs by their crimes or locations. I remember them by the songs I listen to while I'm cleaning.
For a brief second, I think I see movement out of the corner of my eye. I turn towards the confessional, but there is nothing there. I turn behind me to see Tony still standing watch in the doorway.
I return to my work and try to shake the feeling off of me. Another run of "Tainted Love," and the target is in a body bag and the blood stains are taken care of with my special combination of oxygenated bleach and UV light. A few more repeats, and I've located all of the bullets and their matching casings and have taken care of all the stray fingerprints.
As I heave the body bag over my shoulder and head to where Tony is, I still can't shake the feeling that there is someone watching.
I know it isn't God.
Mainly because he's proven to me that he doesn't exist.
"Tell them to cut the power," I say to Tony, turning around once more. I cut my music off so I can hear better.
"Something the matter?" he asks as he pulls out his phone to send the message.
"You haven't noticed any movement, have you?" I ask him.
He shakes his head as he presses send on the message.
"Nothing. Have you?"
"I'm sure it's nothing," I reply, the uncertainty clear in my voice.
Just as the lights go out, a flash of silver moves in my periphery.
"Hold this!" I say, tossing the dead guy at Tony.
He catches the body with an "umph," and I turn and bolt back into the sanctuary. The darkness makes it hard to see, but the lit candles on the altar are just bright enough to make out a bit of movement as someone or something runs past them.
"Gotcha," I say, my adrenaline spiking as I sprint forward towards the new target.
As I round the corner of the sanctuary in pursuit, a side door I haven't seen comes into view. I know if they close that door on me I'll find it locked by the time I get to it.
I unsheathe a throwing knife from my pocket and hurl it towards the doorframe. As the target tries to close the door, it gets in the way of the door sitting flush, meaning it prevents the door from being locked.
Their few seconds of struggle are enough for me to gain on them. I force the door open just as they decide it's better to try and make a break for it.
