Just one more.

 One more mission, and Big Brother could die and West could move away from this life once and for all. Sure, the mission was massive with numerous components and multiple targets, but the men behind the static screen on his monitor assured him that this was all he needed to do to finally return to the life he once desired.

 He rubbed at his eyes. Heavy shadows drooped down his face as he took another sip of the bitter coffee next to him on a lonely park bench. His computer was alive. A portable drive stuck out the side extended his wireless range as he sifted through files once more to access the information hidden to him. He’d always prided himself on his research. Writing essays was a breeze in college when he could easily craft decisive theses from all of the work that he’d done.

 The Coyote and Big Brother had less “appropriate” methods unfortunately. Searching the Darknet proved there were people willing to do anything for the right amount of cash, including delivering the right information. Or, he could just access the network himself.

 Coding may not have been his speciality, but it was just one of many shady behaviours he had to pick up. He kidnapped people for a living, for Christ’s sake.

   His first target had already been planned. Finding the first source was simple enough. With this star children coded as “geniuses” to the public eye, they usually could be found with some level of press surrounding them. This became even easier in the realm of social media. People always had something to say about anything.

 West didn’t engage in discourse that way. It tarnished the information for what it was. Sure, he had is own opinions but those he kept to himself. Becoming Big Brother meant becoming cautious to the world around you, and that included simple conversations on random forum pages. God knows who could find him if they followed the same channels he did. The strange crime group that hired him even made it easy for him by handing him a list of names.

 Too many jobs started with “the son of so-and-so” or other vague ideas that he usually had to figure out.

 For now, the first member on the list of people he was supposed to take out was a stereotypical unmotivated genius, if the news tabloids were to be believed. Even as he sipped his coffee he could see the tops of buildings at the prestigious Cornell institute. He’d been stalking around the university for a few days now, posing as a potential PHD student. That could explain why he looked so paranoid and deprived all the time. Ultimately, however, he was doing it to understand this girl’s schedule. People were surprisingly willing to blab about it too.

 A student in one class, another from their floor in residence. 

 His net had been laid out, now all that was left was to go in for the capture.

 The organization stressed that they wanted these Star Children alive, which wasn’t a problem for him. The gun in the inside pocket of his long jacket was more a precaution of the crime world than anything else.

 No. All he would need is the right drug in the right syringe, the right pills in the right cup, or, in the worst case, a stun baton right where it hurt.

 He closed his laptop quietly after memorizing the room number and residence name.  That took a little bit of cracking, but hopefully it wouldn’t leave a trail.

 His paranoia made it essential in his brain to remain safe. Even as he walked towards the residence at a brisk pace with a heavy book under his arm, he repeated his mantra under his breath.

 “You’re Big Brother. You watch everyone. But everyone’s watching you too.”

 Emma Roche was the first name on his list, and while he’d been slowly twisting his web around the necks of the others, Roche would be the first one fed to this spider.

 Big Brother’s final hope for freedom fell into this last case.