He looked out the window. A lone figure in a dark trench coat was standing across the street, motionless under an umbrella. They were being watched. They were always being watched.
The neon sign of the Golden Anchor flickered in the rain, casting a greasy yellow glow over the wet pavement. Pepe sat in the corner booth, his broad, green shoulders hunched over a lukewarm cup of coffee. He was a long way from the internet memes and the viral fame that had once defined his existence. Here, in this gray, nameless city, he was just another face in the crowd, trying to outrun a past that refused to stay buried. Pepe - What You Want
"Then take the deal," she pressed, tapping the envelope with a manicured fingernail. "It's a simple retrieval. In and out. By tomorrow morning, the frog everyone is looking for ceases to exist, and a quiet gentleman named Peter starts a new life in the mountains." He looked out the window
Pepe reached out and placed his large, three-fingered hand over the envelope. He felt the thickness of the documents inside—the promise of a manufactured freedom. He knew the Syndicate's definition of "simple." It usually involved blood, betrayal, and a high probability of never making it to those mountains. They were always being watched
"I want peace, Clara," Pepe said quietly, his voice gravelly. "I want a life where I don't have to check the locks five times before I go to sleep."
"What are you doing?" Clara's voice dropped an octave, the artificial warmth instantly evaporating. "This is the only way out."