6:16 PM, Sunday, September 19th, 2021: Undisclosed Location, Montana
A tall, athletically built, dark-skinned man sat in front of a rickety wooden table in the corner of a dusty warehouse backroom. A duffel bag rested in the center of the table, unzipped, with the man staring at its contents, bug-eyed and breathing hard. He remained motionless, the sound of his own heartbeat serving as his only company, until the noise of a door opening behind him jarred him from his stupor. He spun around in his chair, old wood groaning as his weight shifted, and was greeted by a slender, dark-haired man with ghostly pale skin and a respirator clamped over his mouth and nose.
"Derek," Christopher started to say; his voice low, methodical, and muffled by the respirator. "We're getting food. Are you coming?"
"I was," Derek stammered, "sorry, I'm just a little shell-shocked, is all. This is..."
He craned his head back towards the duffel bag. Inside was brick after brick of hundred dollar bills.
"...more money than I've ever seen before in my life," he finished.
"Yes. You will get used to it," Christopher replied. "Master's plans are unorthodox, but they yield results. Following her leadership is a great path forward."
Derek winced at the usage of the word master, doing his best to hide it as he looked back at Christopher.
"Can't argue with that I guess," Derek responded, "but I'm a bit unsure about this plan of hers. Don't get me wrong, I'm no stranger to crime, but what she wants us to do with this money is just cruel. I don't really understand why we're doing it, either."
Christopher shrugged.
"You're still new," he said, "and you might understand later. If not, you can leave with your share when it's over. I'm going to stick with my master until her goals are realized."
"Okay, hold on, stop," Derek interrupted. "I've been wanting to ask this for a while, but why do you keep calling her master? Is it some kind of kink thing?"
Christopher didn't answer, instead standing in silence, staring wide-eyed at Derek for an excruciating length of time.
"No. I'm gay," he replied, quietly, having waited just long enough to respond for beads of sweat to form on Derek's forehead.
"Oh," Derek mumbled.
"I'm her apprentice, so she is my master," Christopher continued. "She asked me to refer to her as such."
Derek squinted at Christopher.
"You sure she didn't compel you to do that?" he whispered. "She's very persuasive, you know."
"I would know if I was being mind-controlled," Christopher riposted. "She asked, and I didn't see any harm."
Derek threw his hands up in the air, seemingly unconvinced.
"Alright man, whatever you say."
Dead air hung between them once more, the two awkwardly looking between each other, the only noise being the faint chatter of people on the street outside.
"So are you going to come?" Christopher asked, breaking the silence.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," Derek answered, waving Christopher away. "Gimme a minute."
Christopher bowed his head, taking a step out of the room and closing the door behind him, hinges squealing in his wake.
Derek let out a sigh, one that he had held back the entire time Christopher had been in the room with him, before pulling his smartphone out of his pocket. In a few seconds, he had his photo album opened and his thumb gliding across image after image of a girl no older than the age of five who greatly resembled him.
His eyes darted between the photos and the money on the table.
"I'm going to Hell, I know that for sure," he murmured to the empty room, his hand shaking, "but I'm gonna make it so you never have to do anything like this."
Derek looked back at the door, as his index finger curled around the lock button of the phone.
The screen went black with a click.