Profile

J1M-609 works for someone you can’t know the name of, in a place you can’t learn about, for reasons that are definitely unknown, especially to you. But, for the sake of clarity, let’s just clarify that he’s pretty good at killing people. Because it’s his job. He’s been in the trade for about 31 years. He’s 39 years old. He was made for the job, in a very literal way. Genetics are pretty interesting when you manually mess with them.

Having been an edgy, smiley motherfucker in his teenage and young adult years, Jim kind of reveres his childhood with a bit of embarrassment, not unlike the kind a 22 year old feels when they walk past Hot Topic and see the new Invader Zim shirts. He probably had several bad one liners about murdering people, he probably wore a trench coat, he’s probably had two separate tire irons in his car, one for actually fixing his tires and one for clubbing dudes in the head.

Later in life, he met and married a woman who’d encourage him to go to therapy for what was essentially conditioned brainwashing into a killing machine. He’s doing better now, even if guilt for past actions is a little beyond his reach as of just yet. While he’s now a widower (and not the culprit of that), he does have one daughter by her who he met for the first time several years after his wife’s death. He’s trying to be an okay dad, considering his own was a syringe and a board of directors.

These days, he's a little bored of his work. His passion isn't in it anymore, he never has to deal with anyone exciting, and going through the same old motions after nearly thirty years has made him adept, but tired. Taking care of a sullen, anxiety-ridden child has provided him with more interesting challenges than his tarp-laying escapades.

Quiet and having only become sort of well-adjusted in his thirties, J1M-609, or “Jim” is kind of tired of being one of the world's best hitmen.