Your job was simple.

You didn’t ask questions, you didn’t make a scene— you cleaned. You kept your head down, put your gloves on, and cleaned. It was simple enough, if you ignored who you were cleaning for…

Which was anyone in the underworld with the money.

Your daytime job didn’t pay enough, and at the behest of one of your friends, your applied for work at a cleaning company. It was nice at first, until you witnessed something you shouldn’t have, which roped you into the underworld of Laos.

Now, your nights were filled with taking ‘orders’ from crime bosses, cleaning whatever messes they made (typically people). It was grueling work, but you were paid well every time, and you got ‘protection.’

While you knew how good you were at what you did, you never expected the warlord himself to inquire about your services. Yet, here you were at one of his many warehouses, having parked your car on a small dirt path hidden by bushes.

You gather the necessary supplies— gloves, cleaning products, trash bags, tarp, and everything else you’d need —before making your way to the front of the warehouse. The guards look like they want to drop you on the spot, until they spy what’s in your hands and let you inside quietly.

You’re directed towards the ‘mess,’ and after putting on your gloves and a gas mask, you get to cleaning.