Henry (aka Hank) Goodman, dressed in a black skinsuit and ski mask, wondered how he ended up tangled in a shower curtain, narrowly avoiding the teenage couple making out in the bathroom. It was supposed to be an easy mission. Slip in and out unnoticed while no one was home, but someone was home, and she invited her boyfriend over to frolic. Things were getting really heated for them on the other side of the curtain and the guy asked, “You wanna shower together?” Hank’s heart sank to his feet and his eyes widened in panic as he searched for a quiet exit strategy. The loving couple hadn’t noticed him yet, but it would soon be an unwelcome threesome if he was discovered. A hand reached through the curtain and released a downpour of freezing water over the helpless Hank who twisted in silent agony. Clothes were hitting the floor, and he would soon be discovered. A hand pulled back the curtain and Hank’s life flashed before his eyes.
Our story began about a month ago, when Hank woke up with an unusual sense of optimism. Things were going well with his girlfriend, Kim, and there was a position open for a supervisory role in his department that he applied for.
Hank: Wanna grab coffee before work? 🙂
Kim: Sure.
Hank: Love you
Kim: U 2.
There is always something weird about people ending texts with periods. Exclamation and Question marks make sense, but periods generally mean they’re feeling some type of way; however, Hank was in such a good mood he didn’t notice. Normally, he didn’t bother to fix the shaggy mess of brown curls on his head but today was a special day, so he ran some gel through his hair to slick it back some. Dusty, his roommate, spit out his cereal when he saw Hank whistling a merry tune in a three-piece suit. “Um…Did you zoom another Tony Robbins crusade, or have you finally lost it?”
“Today is going to be a great day, Dusty. I’m not going to let you ruin it with your bad vibes.”
“Coming from Mr. Bad Vibes himself. Dude, as someone who loves you, I’m concerned about you leaving this apartment dressed like you’re going to Dickens Day Fair.”
“I just feel like good things are coming my way. The universe is on my side, today, bro.” Hank shot him a little finger gun, “Watch out! Some of this good mojo might just brush off on you.” And he was out the door with his satchel.
…
Hours later, Dusty was on the couch playing video games, when a dejected Hank walked through the door with a coffee stain on his torso and a twelve packs of orange Fanta in each arm. “Today sucked,” he said as he walked to unload the soda into the fridge.
“Woah dude, I thought you got off of that stuff.” Dusty asked, “what happened?”
“First, I went to Dark Bean to meet Kim for a coffee before work. There was no one at the counter, so I waited patiently, but no one came out to take my order. After a couple of minutes of standing there like an idiot, I kindly asked the dude polishing the espresso machine if he would take my order. He looked at me and said, ‘Can’t you see I’m busy.’ Can you believe that guy? He rolls his eyes before sluggishly taking my order and he has the audacity to make it incorrectly in front of me, letting the espresso go bitter right before my eyes.”
“Oof, you hate that.”
“Yeah! I do. Then he hands it to me without a sleeve, so the cup is hot in my hands. My instinctual response was to squeeze into the heat for some reason, so the drink exploded out of my hands and onto my $300 suit.”
“The Men’s Warehouse one?”
“Yeah! Now I’m standing there with second degree burns and a stained suit when Kim walks in, looking beautiful as ever.”
“She is beautiful.”
“Enough with the commentary, let me finish.”
“Sorry. Continue.”
“Thank you. The look she gave me validated how pathetic I felt as I stretched out my arms for a sympathy hug, but she just went to order her iced oat milk latte with sugar free vanilla.”
“Which is so much worse for you than…”
“Dusty! We sit down and Kim doesn’t even let me speak. She says, ‘Look Hank, I’m sorry. It looks like you’re having a really bad day, but I’ve been meaning to do this for some time now. I just don’t see this relationship going anywhere and I’m looking for a husband who is going to be somebody.’ And like a total ass, I said, ‘but I’m going to be a supervisor today.’ Then she says, ‘Good for you Hank, but I don’t want to be married to a supervisor of…what is it you do?’
“Jesus…but seriously, what is it you do? I’ve always wondered.” Dusty asked.
“I’m a copywriter, but that’s not the point. It gets worse.”
“Holy shit, it gets worse than that?!”
Hank pops open an orange soda and continues his story, “So Kim breaks up with me and tells me my hair looks nice before she leaves with her Oat milk latte, and I go to the bathroom to soak up the stain with water and a paper towel, which just gave my shirt a large yellow blot. I was still hopeful that maybe I’d get that promotion. I got to work, and everyone was looking at the giant stain on my shirt, so I tried to appear confident or something. The boss calls me into his office and says, ‘You look like shit, Goodman. What, did you puke on yourself or something? Are you hungover?’ I tried to explain what happened, but he interrupted me and went on, ‘sit down, we don’t have a lot of time. Goodman, I’m going to give it to you straight. You’re a real Debbie Downer and we don’t need some kind of junkie coming in here and polluting the work culture after an all-nighter at some rave.’ I protested but he said, ‘have some dignity, son. Margie’s got your check at her desk. Pick it up on your way out.’ I picked up my check and Margie handed me a gospel tract with an invitation to her church because I apparently look like I need Jesus.”
“The way you look right now, Buddy, I think you do. My aunt Patty is a presbyterian.” Dusty felt around his pockets for his phone.
“Not now, Dusty. I’ve had an awful day and I felt so hopeful. I feel like the Universe set me up for failure today by putting me in a good mood just to tear me down. I’m just going to sulk in bed for the rest of the day. I’ll start the job hunt tomorrow.”
“Take all the time you need, Hanky Pankey. Until rent’s due, then I gotta kick you out if you don’t find anything.” Hank slammed the door to his room and Dusty went back to playing video games.
Moments later, someone knocked at the door. Dusty ignored the door because he was enthralled in his game and assumed it was a delivery person. A few knocks later, he begrudgingly paused the game and got up to answer it, “I’m coming! Just a minute.” He opened the door to find a beautiful blonde goddess with a suitcase who looked like she had been crying. “Does Splinter live here?” she sniffled.
“The rat from the ninja turtles?” Dusty asked in bewilderment.
“What? No, um Henry Goodman.”
“Hanky Pankey?!”
“No offense, but no thanks,” she chortled and picked up her bags. “Maybe I have the wrong place.”
“Emma?” Hank said as he approached the door.
“Splinter!” She dropped her bags, ran to Hank, and wrapped her arms and legs around him like a little girl.
“What are you doing here?” His scrawny figure struggled to carry her.
“Can I crash with you for a little while?”
“Of course! Stay as long as you need.”
“Thanks,” she sobbed into his shoulder.
Dusty brought her bags inside, shut the door, and stood in front of them watching an unreal spectacle. After a minute of awkward silence, they both looked at him. “Hi, I’m Dusty, Master Splinter’s roommate. Nice to meet you. Now, can someone please explain what in Michelangelo’s name is going on here?”
“I’m sorry, Dust. This is my best friend, Emma.” She wiped her nose then shook Dusty’s reluctant hand. “Em, why don’t you unpack in my room.” She let Hank go and disappeared into the bedroom.
“Best friend? Best friend?” Dusty was incredulous. “I thought I was your only friend. You didn’t tell me you were friends with Mighty Aphrodite! She is gorgeous.”
“Some things are sacred. If she hadn’t showed up here today, I probably would’ve never told you about her because I knew you’d get weird. We’ve been friends since we were in diapers. She’s off limits.”
“I’m not being weird. I’m just in shock. And she’s going to be staying here.” The reality of a woman staying in their apartment hit Dusty, so he started cleaning like a mad man.
…
If you are reading this and wondering when it is going to connect to what happened at the beginning, we are getting there. Emma was the catalyst that got the ball rolling which eventually led to the shower situation. Just be patient and you will see how it all unfolds.
…
Hank helped Emma unpack and consolidated his clothes into drawers to make room for things. “Why are you looking so dapper? Another Dickens Day Fair.”
“First of all, it’s not even February, and it’s a long story.” He told her everything that happened up until she arrived at their door.
“Kim sounds like a real bitch. Want me to punch her in the face for you?”
“I’m sure you could but no thanks. I really liked her and saw a future with her, so I’m disappointed she didn’t see one with me.”
“Well, you’re amazing, Splinter. If she didn’t see that in you, then she won’t see it in anyone. And I know for a fact, if you beat your addiction to orange soda, then you will accomplish great things.” They laughed together.
“Thank you for buttering me up. I know that look. Yes, I do have ice cream.”
“Cookies and Cream?” Emma got giddy with excitement.
“You don’t even have to ask.” Seconds later, they were sharing a blanket on the couch with two spoons and a bucket of ice cream watching black and white movies like two girlfriends at a slumber party.
“Who are you?” Dusty asked as he spooned their ice cream and sat down on his recliner.
“I’m sorry we got off on a bad foot, Dusty. I just really needed my Henry after a breakup like that. Plus, I had to be in New York for the Olympic training event so it all just worked out.”
“Woah! hang on there, too much to unpack all at once. Olympic training?” Again, Dusty was incredulous.
“Emma is an Olympian,” Hank laughed at the coincidence. “That’s funny she is an Olympic athlete, and you called her Aphrodite.”
“Aphrodite?” Emma asked. “Why not Artemis? She’s the huntress.”
“Okay I’m incredibly turned on. Now, what’s ‘my henry’ and ‘splinter’ all about?”
Hank and Emma giggled together like schoolgirls before she told the story. “Okay, so our parents are like best friends. Whenever they’d hang out, I’d be forced to bring Henry along because we played together as babies. When I was a little older, I just wanted to be with my older friends, so whenever I had to drag Henry along, I would call him a little splinter.”
“That’s not very nice,” Dusty interjected.
“Why are you interrupting me?” She asked.
“It’s my thing that I do. Just keep going with the story.”
“Okay, so one time, I was being mean to Henry and stole his little wooden sword. When I snatched it, I got a bunch of splinters in my fingers.”
“That’s what you get but keep going.”
“Rather than laughing at me or being mean back to me, he ran inside and got some tweezers. So sweetly, he told me it was going to hurt but I’d feel better once they were out. He gently and carefully pulled out each splinter. Then the splinter that once bugged me became my comfort. I proudly took him everywhere with me after that, even to college and built this unhealthy codependency. Whenever I’m in trouble, I go to my splinter for comfort.”
“That’s completely dysfunctional and psychotic, but we will just ignore that and watch the movie,” Dusty settled uncomfortably into his seat.
“Which reminds me,” Emma paused the movie. “I was looking through my stuff and noticed some things were missing. I was missing my old Gameboy Color, my classic Adidas, and my Olympic uniform goggles. Since you got fired, I’m willing to offer you a job.”
“Okay, I’m listening.” Hank said.
“I’ll pay $250 to go down to Charlie’s apartment and pick them up for me. I don’t want to see him again and I’m going to be swamped with training and photoshoots this week, so I really need you to do this for me.”
“I don’t know, Em. I mean, look at me. What if Charlie gets violent with me? The guy was probably nuts about you and then some skinny guy comes to collect your stuff.”
“He will know who you are. I talked about you all the time.”
“Somehow that isn’t comforting for me but thank you.”
“Please, Henry. I’ll pay your half of the rent this month.”
“And he’ll take it,” Dusty answered for him. “I’ll send you a DocuSign to solidify the contract.”
“Hey, you’re not my manager.”
“Sorry dude, you’re broke and jobless. You can’t be homeless while missus splinter is attached to you.”
“It’s a deal!” Emma hugs Hank and presses her cheek tightly to his. “You’re the best.” She un-paused the movie and they all settled back into their seats. Hank couldn’t stop going over the scenarios of an encounter with Charlie in his head. Emma rested her head on his shoulder until a notification rang on her phone. She pulled it out from under the blanket, “Did you really just send me a DocuSign?”
…
The First Job
Henry Goodman drank an orange Fanta, while he scoped out Charlie’s house in the suburbs of New Jersey, from his little blue beat-up Toyota Corolla. What would be the best approach? He could just walk up to the front door and say, “Good morning. I’m Henry, Emma’s friend. Can I grab the things she left?” No. Definitely do not say good morning. That’s just ridiculous. Or I could climb through the window, sneak into the closet, grab the stuff, and go. As he thought, Hank heard a car start behind him. It was Charlie leaving his house. Now was the perfect time to act, quick in and out before he returns.
Hank lifted his hoodie and put on some dark shades before walking toward the house and checking the front door. Naturally, the door was locked, but you never know with suburbs. He walked around the house to see if there were any windows opened. The kitchen window was open, and it smelled like alfredo sauce was cooking, so Hank assumed Charlie ran to the store to grab a missing ingredient. It smells like he’s missing some garlic and maybe black pepper, he thought. Sure enough, the pot was sitting on the burner which had been left on. Hank turned it off because “only you can prevent wildfires.” He crept slowly into the bedroom after checking out the furniture and giving it a nod of approval. It was modern and simplistic, with a lot of workout equipment but that’s not important.
The bedroom had a huge computer set-up with three monitors attached to it. Emma said he worked from home and Hank thought about asking him for a job after this is done and over with. Working from home, reading books, and working out all day would be nice, he thought. Realistically, he probably wouldn’t work out every day but definitely read. Unfortunately, Hank was a snooper, so while he should have been hurrying, he was taking his time going through all of the drawers. The shades made it hard to observe everything, so he took them off to find Emma’s things. He opened the closet and found the Olympic goggles stuffed inside a box of miscellaneous items. Assuming no one was home, Hank was careless about the noise he was making until the toilet flushed down the hall. Quickly he closed himself in the closet and held his breath. A woman was holding a broom like a weapon and walked cautiously down the corridor. She stepped into the bedroom and gasped when she found the drawers opened. She pulled out her phone and called Charlie. “A robber was just in our home, Charlie.”
“What! What’d they take?” He could hear him screaming over the phone.
“I don’t know but the drawers are all opened.” She looked through the drawers. “Nothing looks missing.”
“I’ll be right there. Call the police.”
“I’m calling them right now.” She sniffed the air. “MY SAUCE!” The woman screamed before running to the kitchen in her platform shoes. “The bastard turned off the burner on my alfredo.”
Hank wondered how Charlie could go from Emma to the complete opposite with this woman. He was offended on her behalf but wasted no time in looking for her classic white and black Adidas. They were up on a shelf in the closet, but he had to open the door to get them. He took advantage of the time the woman had to take rescuing her alfredo sauce to reach out and grab them. The goggles were in his pocket and the shoes were in his hands, which was going to make it difficult to escape. Hank opened the window as quietly as possible to create an exit and threw the shoes out. Where could the Gameboy be? He thought. It wasn’t in any of the drawers in the bedroom, but he did remember seeing something resembling one under the remote on the coffee table in the living room. The woman was creeping up behind him as Hank thought and whacked him on the head with the broom. Thankfully, she hit him with the bristly bit, so it just alerted him to her presence. He pushed past her as she was momentarily screaming with horrified paralysis. The Gameboy was indeed under the remote, but now the broomstick woman was standing between him and his exit. “Get the hell out of my house or my boyfriend’s going to kill you.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do!”
She screeched a battle cry and charged at him. Hank opened the front door because the momentum of her platform shoes prevented her from stopping without falling forward, and she ended up outside when he closed the door. He carefully climbed out of the bedroom window but accidentally kicked one of the computer’s monitors on his way out. Hank was already on his way to the car as the monitors wobbled and crashed on the bedroom floor. By the time the woman opened the front door, he was halfway to New York.
…
“You actually did it!” Dusty was incredulous again. (If you don’t know what that means yet, you should.)
“There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. That’s why I asked you to do it,” Emma messed up Hank’s already messy hair.
“It would have been easier if there wasn’t a crazy woman with a broom attacking me.”
Emma’s smile quickly disappeared as she said, “a woman was there.” Then she whispered to herself, “already.”
“Em. I’m sorry. She could have been anybody. Maybe his mom, she was a little older.”
“That asshole! I knew he was seeing someone else.” She grabbed Hank’s keys and demanded, “Let’s go back.”
“WHAT?! I just made it out of there alive and you want to go back.”
“Okay but I’m coming too,” Dusty added.
They were all silenced by a pounding on the door. “OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR, SPLINTER! I KNEW IT WAS YOUR SCRAWNY ASS WHEN YOU TRIPPED MY RING DOORBELL!”
“You went to the front door?” Dusty asked. “Have you never seen a spy movie?”
Emma was already at the door and swung it open with fury. “Who the hell is she, Charlie?!”
“You told on me! Oh, your dead meat, Splinter!” Charlie yelled as his muscles bulged out of his neck.
“You don’t get to call him that!” Emma pushed him back, and surprisingly, he actually fell back against the neighbor's wall in the hallway.
“I only just met her, Em.”
“She called it ‘our house’,” Hank protested.
“Stay out of this!” Charlie threatened.
To everyone’s surprise, Emma started punching and kicking Charlie like an MMA fighter in the octagon as she called him a bastard over and over. Dusty and
Hank struggled to pull her off of him. They got a couple of stray kicks too until Charlie finally staggered up to his feet and ran away. “You owe me a new monitor!” Charlie yelled as he walked away. Emma broke free of their grip and sprinted after Charlie, who then ran away as fast as he could.
…
Shower Jobs
Emma had been living with them a couple of weeks and she covered Hank’s half of the rent as agreed, since he hadn’t found another job. Times were hard for a guy with an undergrad in psychology and only one job ever as an entry level copywriter. When he arrived home one day with another twelve pack of orange Fanta, Emma asked, “No luck with the interview?”
“They said I was overqualified to work the cash register at Whole Foods.”
“At least you are single handedly keeping Fanta alive.” Dusty chuckled as Hank threw him a can.
Hank offered one to Emma, but she declined, “I don’t want to become addicted.”
“Suit yourself,” Hank said as he chugged one.
“Have you talked to Leslie?” She asked.
“Who is Leslie? Is she another hot girlfriend I don’t know about?” Dusty asked, pausing his video game.
“Leslie is an old man who has been mentoring me since our time at the Y. He retired from the Navy to become a stage actor on Broadway, and we reconnected here after college.”
“Sometimes I forget you had a life before knowing me,” Dusty accepted it and returned to his game.
…
“Why do you keep coming back here, Hank? They treat you like shit” Leslie asked. Imagine Paul Newman in the latter part of his life if he had served 30 years in the military. They were sitting on the patio of the same coffee shop he had been dumped in prior.
“I don’t know, Leslie. I guess I’m too scared to try another coffee shop because it might be worse.”
“They threw coffee at you last time. Can it get any worse?”
“Good point.”
“Let me tell you something,” because that’s something old people say when they are about to impart wisdom, “I was afraid to tell people I wanted to be a stage actor when I was younger. I didn’t want people to assume things about my manhood. Instead, I joined the Navy because that’s what men do. I don’t regret my service but there are roles I may never get to play because I was too scared to stand up for my dream. I grew to love people and watched them die without ever doing the things they wanted to do. I waited until I was fifty to start pursuing my dream because I didn’t give a damn what others thought about me acting.”
“What are you working on now?”
“Julius Caesar. The role of a lifetime.” A proud grin spread across his wrinkled face
“That’s incredible.”
“What is your role of a lifetime?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“What have you been doing to make money?” Leslie asked. Hank told him the story about helping Emma retrieve her things. “Well, that’s something. Why don’t you do that?”
“What? Get stuff for people?”
“Odd jobs that no one else is doing. There have been times I’ve had to do things I would’ve paid someone to do for me but thought no one would be willing to do it. You did that for Emma. You could do it for other people. Call it, Goodman Incorporated. Your slogan could be, let a good man handle it. Believe it or not, Hank, you’re a good man.”
That night, Hank started an LLC for Goodman Inc., social media accounts, and printed out flyers. Emma and Dusty helped him pass out flyers at local shops around the neighborhood. It wasn’t long before he got his first few calls. A shop owner had a hummingbird trapped in her shop and it wouldn’t leave. She needed Hank to take it out without killing it. He had no idea how he was going to get it done or what to charge her, but he took the job. “A Goodman is coming to handle it,” he said as he hung up the phone. It turned out to be a challenging job. The bird would fly in circles above the doors and windows but never low enough to actually leave. Customers wouldn’t stay to eat because the bird would fly over their heads and freak them out. Hank had them turn off the lights and close the blinds to make it dark, hoping the light from the door would lure it out. He put on gloves and tried to grab it with his hands, but it would flutter away quickly. One time it even knocked him off the latter and onto his back.
Finally, the shopkeeper got desperate and said, “just get the bird out of here. Whatever you gotta do. Do it.” She handed Hank a broom. What is it with broads and brooms, he thought to himself. He finally cornered the bird and caught it with the broom bristles. Very gently, he grabbed it with his gloved hand and released it out the door. The bird flew fast and free before being hit by a speeding truck. “Well, you got him out without killing him,” she said, before giving him two hundred dollars cash.
Calls like that were rolling in. Get this pest out of here. Drop this off. Break up with my girlfriend or boyfriend for me. One strange one was a girl who had a phobia of showering in a house by herself, so she pays him a hundred dollars a week to hang out in the house while she showers for work and at the end of the day. Then a really strange one came in. Hank was picked up by a nice black car without an emblem or license plate and taken to the docs. There he was asked to get out of the car by men in black suits. Then, he was escorted to a second black car where a man in a red suede suit waited for him. “So, you’re the guy that gets things done, huh?”
“I’m Henry Goodman,” he gulped in a cold sweat. “A good man will handle it.”
“Listen, I’ve got a big problem. I was at a house party with a bunch of fancy, high class people. Then I get the shits, and gotta use the toilet. Someone is using the toilet downstairs, so they tell me to use the one upstairs. I go upstairs to the bathroom and have a divine experience. The toilet lid opened on its own, the bowl was lit, the seat was warm, and when you dropped a deuce, it wets your ass for you. You don’t even have to wipe. I’ve never had a better experience on the toilet in my life and I spend a lot of time there.”
“There are a lot of toilets like that nowadays. They are higher end and pricey, but I’m sure you can afford it.”
“Don’t you think I’ve had my guys search everywhere already. I don’t want one like it. I want the exact one. The only problem was the brand was in a foreign language and I didn’t have my phone with me to take a picture. That’s where you come in.”
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
“I’ll pay you a thousand dollars to go to my associate’s house. Snap a picture of his toilet, the brand, and model number without being caught. Send it to me and you’ll have your money.”
“No offense, but why don’t you just ask your associate?”
“Do I look like the kind of guy that asks an associate of mine what type of toilet they use?”
They escorted him out of the car and shut the door. The window rolled down from the car and the boss man said, “If anyone finds out we talked. You’ll never be seen again.” The window rolled up and the car drove away.
Hank felt a chill run up his spine as everyone left. Then he realized he didn’t have a ride back from the dock. Now he would have to walk back. What he didn’t know was the FBI had been tailing the car for days and they photographed this interaction with the boss in the red suede suit. Hank had to figure out how he was going to snap a picture of that toilet.
…
Hank had no problem getting into the house because his client sent him a detailed map and route of entry by email. They even mailed him a black skin suit, ski mask, leather gloves, and some lock picks. Once he climbed through the bathroom window of the dark empty house, it was a breeze taking a picture of the toilet and model number. What he did not expect were the footsteps hurrying up the stairs. He jumped into the shower and a young amorous couple entered the bathroom in a heated rendezvous.
Henry (aka Hank) Goodman, dressed in a black skinsuit and ski mask, wondered how he ended up tangled in a shower curtain, narrowly avoiding the teenage couple making out in the bathroom. It was supposed to be an easy mission. Slip in and out unnoticed while no one was home, but someone was home, and she invited her boyfriend over to frolic. Things were getting really heated for them on the other side of the curtain and the guy asked, “You wanna shower together?” Hank’s heart sank to his feet and his eyes widened in panic as he searched for a quiet exit strategy. The loving couple hadn’t noticed him yet, but it would soon be an unwelcome threesome if he was discovered. A hand reached through the curtain and released a downpour of freezing water over the helpless Hank who twisted in silent agony. Clothes were hitting the floor, and he would soon be discovered. A hand pulled back the curtain and Hank’s life flashed before his eyes.
As the hand threw the curtain open, Hank draped himself long enough to slip out, but he spilled onto the floor violently. The girl screamed and the boyfriend jumped out after him. Hank quickly sped out to the dark hallway leaving soggy footprints on the carpet and crashed into a doggy gate at the top of a staircase, sending him tumbling down the staircase. The boyfriend, completely naked, followed almost exactly, but he demolished the gate before rolling down the staircase, releasing the family dog. As it turns out, the young man was not the actual “boyfriend” but another guy she was fooling around with, so the dog was not familiar with this fellow. Henry was gathering himself in the foyer as the dog attacked the naked teenager frantically kicking around. Wrapped in a towel, the girl ran down the stairs to get the excited Doberman off of her lover which bought Henry enough time to sneak out of the front door and run to his car down the street.
He struggled to pull the wet mask off of his face and took out the phone from his pocket to send the picture to Mr. Gilbert, a notorious crime boss. The mission was complete. Moments later, a notification informed Hank that $1000 had been transferred to his bank account. Suddenly it was all worth it.
