James Greene

James Greene didn’t consider himself a particularly good person; he did bad things and he usually had bad intentions, so the fact he was stood in the 22nd-floor toilets of Canopy headquarters with an unconscious man at his feet barely fazed him. James wasn’t his real name – of course - but he had grown accustomed to the alias so much so that now when he uttered his real name, it felt almost foreign on his tongue. Only a handful of people knew his true identity, and it was a list he intended to keep short – by any means necessary.

 Looking down at the janitor sprawled on the floor, James stooped down to grab his wrists and drag the man into a toilet stall.

When he was changed, clad in grey overalls and a matching grey cap, he studied his appearance in the mirror in front of him. He looked almost inconspicuous, bar the black eye. The skin around his left eye was an angry purple-black and when he brought a finger up to touch it, he winced. Shrugging his shoulders, he pulled the peak of the cap low over his eyes but didn’t bother to tuck the loose tufts of brown hair underneath the rim. He turned on his heel and looked once again at the now almost naked, unconscious man slumped on top of the closed toilet. With a slightly sympathetic look, James swung the toilet door shut and attached an ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign to it.

On his way out of the toilets, pushing the janitor's trolley, he cast a glance downwards to check how visible his duffel bag was, tucked away on the bottom tray on the trolley. Satisfied, James began his stroll down the corridor, avoiding any office workers he came across. He was already halfway to his destination, halfway through his plan and his heart was thundering away in his chest. Not from fear or apprehension, but more from sheer excitement. He wanted to scoff at himself for his own naivety, but he just couldn’t help it.