I watch from the cafe across the street as he finished a tense looking phone call outside the dance studio and then went inside. I try to look casual and somewhat bored by my smartphone. Just in case. Turning my face at an angle to disguise my stare, I wait for him to remerge with the little girl who must be his daughter. He wasn’t supposed to be here, this was his wife’s day to pick up the kid from ballet. Who knows what changed, but he was here now and I have to improvise, fast. We've all got our deadlines.

Name: Jeffrey Rosenthall, age 42. Status: Married, 3 children- 17, 14, 9. Occupation: congressman. I scanned the rest of his dossier on my phone. Naughty, naughty.

My codename is Void, an old joke by my first mentor. He was wrong, I'm not heartless, just... morally flexible. I’m an assassin specializing in poetic justice. It’s a niche market and I've got it cornered.

Jeffrey Rosenthall is my next target.

There’s not much you need to know about him aside from the fact that he deserves everything that’s about to happen. Everyone who gets sent to me does. Don’t get too caught up worrying about his family either, their willful ignorance makes them complicit in his crimes. 

When they find Jeffrey's body later, tipped off by an anonymous and convincingly panicked sounding woman, I've made sure they’ll also find his dirty secrets. I can already tell he knows where we’re going.

It really is a shame about the kid, but business is business. She’ll be fine... physically. I do have a code of ethics. Some nightmares are hard to wake up from, though, and she might not bounce back. I can’t think about that right now, looks like she’s along for this ride.

Once I get them to the warehouse I give the little girl a sedative, hopefully it’ll knock her out before she hears too much.

He starts bargaining with me when I uncover the cages, his ‘pleases’ pinging off me like rubber bullets off a brick wall.

The dogs remember him. They can sense his true nature and hunch down, snarling, ready for what happens next. This is when he starts apologizing for the things he knows he’s done wrong.

I click the padlock into place around the chain I put on his neck and give it a good yank to make sure the other end is securely bolted to the floor.

‘Do you think your wife knows that you pay for her manicures with money you get from your little side operation? This is your dog fighting arena isn’t it… congressman. Is this how you spend your taxpayers money?’

Jeffrey was crying now, ‘Look, I’ll let the dogs go.’ 

‘I already liberated them.’

‘I’ll turn myself in, resign, make a public statement! You don’t need to do this!'

‘I may not need to. But this? I want to do.’