The Man Who Could Be Anyone
You’ve heard of voice actors? People like Tom Kenny, Kevin Conroy, and Yeardley Smith. Those who have transformed their voice to lovable characters that made our childhood. A lot of them have the ability to leave no trace of their actual voice. What if you could do that? Decide what comes out of your mouth in what tone you decide, What if you could do the voice of a person of the opposite sex? Maybe even take the voice of a deceased human being, who only now lives through your vocal cords. My name is Alfred Hampton, and for the past 30 years I’m able to impersonate anyone I want. Mickey Mouse? Yep, every single character in the Simpsons? Without trouble. How about your Uncle Derck who you’ve never met because he died in the first world war? Yes, I could sound exactly like him even if you didn’t know what he sounded like. I couldn’t explain how I know or do it, it just happens, I think it and it happens. What I can tell you is when it happened.
I remember the morning, I was just a young lad. I came down to eat breakfast with my parents. As we ate and talked, my mother asked how my pancakes tasted, I turned to her and said,
“They’re delicious Ma!”. A fork dropped as we realized I said that completely in my mother’s voice. The first time we chalked it up to the thing people say about kids,
“You sound like parents when you grow older”. Maybe just an odd voice crack, at the age of 8, but that’s all we could reason and forgot about it. It wasn’t till a couple weeks later my father was telling a story of his grandfather, he loved those old war stories told to him by grandpa and then passed it down to us. I told him how much I enjoyed the story, but was stunned to find out that the voice I said that in was none other than my grandfathers. My dad confirmed it, I never forgot his facial expression that night. That was the same night I figured out I could impersonate the dead, there was no debunking that one. Over the next week I learned how to do it, simply put I just thought of the person and spoke, didn’t even need to think of their face or anything, just thought of their existence and spoke.
My new found ability quickly became a neat carnival trick for my friends. Saying hilarious lines as their parents or the grumpy old principle of ours. I later won the talent show that year by putting on a sock puppet show, 30 characters, but all with completely different voices. That alone was the most impressive part of it. I think I still have the trophy somewhere around in my apartment. I became a small child star in my little town for a short time. Unfortunately like all quarks, mine got old and nobody cared about it anymore. Funny how everyone wants to be friends with the kid that has a unique talent and then years later you find yourself in a party of one because nobody thought it was, “the shit” anymore. My Middle and High School years were lonely. I eventually found ways to entertain myself through getting into trouble. My parents, unpleased with my new lifestyle, scolded me every day I came home. I started to resent them years ago. They weren’t abusive, but when I discovered my abilities, there was a change in how they treated me, like there was something wrong with me, they saw it more as a disease than a gift. That was something that started years later during my decline in popularity. The ones who threw rocks at me and labeled me a freak. Definitely a step down from “a talented young man”.
I took out that bottled hatred on the world from small pranks and slight graffiti, and eventually the occasional robbing of the downtown convenience stores. My favorite times were when I called the store as their manager, telling them they needed to take all their cash and give it to someone who was stopping at the store later, which was me dressed formally to give the impression I was a banker or just someone important. The excuse I gave as the manager was either a banker coming to collect late taxes or something to that effect. As long as I’m recognizable as the manager on the phone you’d be surprised how quickly they do what I say and not ask questions. Afraid they’ll ask too much and get fired, or get yelled at. Maybe I should highlight this part of my story for those people who run their company through fear. I never really did it for the money, no for me it was my way of sticking it to the world that turned its back on me.
Petty crimes were practically what I did with my free time. It wasn’t till my senior year that I was approached while walking to class by a man, dressed up and asked to speak with me alone. First thought he was a cop or a detective, one smart enough to finally figure out I was behind all those robberies. I entered a small room and sat across from him, feeling anxious. He introduced himself as Mr. S, never really learned the rest of his name, or anything else about him. He told me that he was very aware of my abilities, that’s when I grew nervous, I looked for ways of escape, and thought that I could make a dash for it. Seeing my distress he calmly put his hands up,
“I’m not here to get you into trouble Mr. Hampton, frankly I don’t care about any misdeeds you committed. More so, I’m actually impressed, and I think a man with your talents could do so much better than a corner store”. I eased back into my seat, and looked at him,
“What do you mean by that? I’m not looking to become a full time bank robber”. He chuckled,
“No. Not exactly what I’m getting at. See I run a certain operation. People with abilities like yours”
“They’re are people like me?” I interrupted.
“Just like you? Not exactly. However, people with abilities that feature an unnatural quark like you?” He continued. I sat in my chair practically frozen, really unsure what to think, but I let him keep talking. The things he told me and offers I was given made my adolescent brain explode as I am about to tell.
That afternoon, I left with him. I never said goodbye to my parents or called and told them where I went that day. Screw them. My first time being brought to the complex I had to be blind folded during the drive there. When I was allowed to unwrap, it was pretty much what you’d expect for a “Secret Organization’’. A small bunker out in the middle of nowhere that of course took you down to a bigger establishment underground. Promise I didn’t steal this from Mission Impossible, hear me out. It was impressive I admit and yes I was more than impressed. However that wasn’t what made my jaw drop, like the man said there were indeed, “people like me”. Dozens of them, I don’t know the exact number but my best guess is right under 100 people. Men and women, with special abilities and strengths, that day was the first time I felt like I wasn’t special and no longer an outcast. I’ve never felt such a joyful feeling like that since, I was just a regular person who fit in amongst these people. I even met a shapeshifter, her name was Vanessa, we worked well together in those early times, her the amazing actor and me the voice. I miss her. This was also the same day that I learned that those old folk tales of monsters and beings with supernatural powers were more than just stories and myths. They were real, oh so real. Given the grand tour and a meeting with several strangers who were more than welcome to have me here, Mr. S asked me after seeing what I could have if I was still interested. 10 minutes later and I was signing forms and shaking hands officially becoming a member.
Alright, I’m sure everyone reading this is waiting for the big reveal,
“What the hell is my work!?”. Because there’s no easy way to drop this monster of a bombshell on you, I’ll come in slow. You know how some people pay other people to kill people? I’m that, a Hitman. But not one of those Hitmen you find on Ebay or the dark web you call to take care of your asshole boss or your cheating spouse. But more of the more premium kind that you need real saucey connections to get, we’re the ones who make folks who live in big fancy houses with their country’s flag in the yard disappear. The people in higher places, of course with what we do, it costs a pretty penny to afford us but also we do the causal ones too, the people who pay just pay more because they’re getting a more professional supplier. Even though I do enjoy seeing that big lovely paycheck fall into my hands at the end of every month, it’s not why I took the job. See if you have been paying attention then you know that money doesn’t matter much to me. Although I can’t say I don’t enjoy owning 3 sports cars, a large Estate far away from people in which I can relax in total silence, and the 3 week vacation I take to the Bahamas once a year. No, it’s the power I feel when I take out these high and mighty asshats, lowlifes that deserve every moment of it. For years, I was treated like a freak and the ones who did it made themselves out to be the kings of the land, and how they had power over me just for the fact they were normal and belonged in the world.
I did get to go back and visit some of those old “pals” of mine. A cool little perk of my people is a slice of Diplomatic Immunity, I can’t go lighting up churches and machine people in the park, however if the occasional man on 5th avenue just goes missing without a trace, so even though I wanted to, I only paid a visit to a select few and felt satisfied with that, had I continued someone would absolutely be able to put the pieces together. We’re pretty good at covering up so the boys in blue don’t call us up for questioning, we kinda have to. I’m also good at being subtle myself while working, I know how not to make a mess and attract an audience, pretty much I make it look like they got up and just walked out of their home. Which isn’t far from the truth. You see, my style of “hunting” I guess I call it, is I have a little device I call my Ghost Phone, just a regular looking phone you pick up at Walgreens, but the neat part with mine is that it’s untraceable. It also has no number, so when I call you it shows up as Caller ID Unknown or something to that effect. Step 2 takes a little bit more thought and time. I like to research my victims, little bit of background knowledge, mostly on the families and loved ones. I pick out the best contender and move to the final part. I give our lucky winner a call and when they answer they’re met with, not my voice, but their mom, dad, childhood friend, wife, weekend fishing buddy, or just the neighbor will do. Usually the call goes a little something like,
“Hey *insert dumbass’ name* I need your help, I’m *insert believable scenario here* Can you come here and help?”. Most cases they run over to the location I give them, my preferred areas are places next to or in the woods, like a backroad. The ol reliable is the car broke down or the work emergency, but there are a few times I’ve called as their significant other to come out and get the groceries. Then once they’re out in the open, I just lead them away with my voice. Once I get them in a good enough spot, then, well, then I do the finishing touches. I hate to say it’s that easy, but it is, it really is.
If you’re wondering about cleanup and disposal, I have people I bring the bodies to and they take care of it. If there’s a mess, I just point and they tidy it up within a small time stamp, teamwork really does make the dreamwork! There are some guidelines I keep myself to when working. The first one is that when I call my victim I don’t usually pose as a deceased loved one, I try to keep it to the ones that are still part of their life. Only when do I feel it’s necessary I pull the undead call from beyond. Not because it’s cruel or immoral to do, but more so, when they hear the voice of their lost one they tend to get emotional and break down with all these heartfelt words and how much they miss them and how they cry every night with regret, blah, blah. Touching, but not what I’m here for. I also don’t hunt during the day, I think that one is obvious. I also try not to kill more than what’s paid for, one is fine enough, a second if necessary, but 3 or more can raise an eyebrow, and again attention isn’t what we want. If I keep to those and do my job smoothly, my contract is done and ready for payment, and I can get to Arby’s before they close!
This has been good! I enjoy talking about my tales and how I came here, it’s like a self reflection that’s long overdue. So I think I’m gonna call it here. I have high intentions of writing again and telling more stories. But before I sign off I’ll answer some questions that some of you might have. Whatever happened to your parents? I don’t know, I really don’t, like I said earlier, they weren’t abusive to me, so I never felt the urge for revenge so I just left them. I think completely vanishing and them having no clue to what happened to me is good enough. How many people have you killed? 564. I haven’t kept count of every member of the place I work for because some leave, some die, more come in. It’s almost impossible to take note of them all, the higher ups don’t tell you when a newcomer climbs aboard, they only tell you your contracts and hand out the checks, so best you can do is guess. But I take time to count my hunts, I take pride in my work and not knowing how many you’ve killed feels like you don’t care about what you do. What about Mr.S? Does he have abilities? He hasn’t shown that he does, but I don’t think it’d be outlandish to think he does, some of my fellow co worker buddies sometimes theorize that he in fact does, and that his abilities are the strongest which is why he’s never shown them and it wouldn’t surprise me if true. The final question! Do you think I have to worry about being hunted by you? Well to that, all I can say is, guess we’ll see.