American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 32 Change
Beta, wearing slippers, walked down the stairs and bumped into John, who was followed by a furry little thing—a beagle on all fours.

He stopped on the last step: "What's going on?"

John took fresh milk from the refrigerator, poured it into a food bowl, and placed it in front of the dog: "Helen's parting gift. In the video Helen recorded, she said we should try to love things we've never experienced before."

He scratched the puppy's perked ears: "Like, getting a puppy."

The beagle immediately came over, its pink tongue slurping as it licked the milk, its short tail wagging like a metronome.

Beta strolled to the kitchen island: "This little guy has an excess of energy. If we don't let him run around every day, you can forget about owning this house."

John gently stroked the beagle's ear: "I'll take it for a walk every day. Want to pet it?"

Beta stepped back: "No thanks. Dogs' sense of smell is too dangerous; they can remember my scent."

The bacon began to sizzle in the frying pan. Beta flipped it over and asked, "What else did Helen's DV show?"

"Do you want to take care of yourself?"

“Just tell me,” Beta interrupted. “Did she record it by the day? One video per day?”

John brushed the dog's fur: "It's recorded weekly. You watch one segment per week, for a total of 400 segments."

His fingers paused for a moment: "She said that after 2800 days, once we've finished watching it, we can start a new life."

Beta poured the pasta into the boiling water: "You definitely didn't do what she said and watched all 400 videos in one go, right? Seven years is enough time for a person to be completely transformed."

Beta slowly drew circles in the pot with the wooden spoon in his hand: "What was the first task Helen assigned me?"

John lifted the beagle to his chest, the puppy's paws flailing in the air: "I'm giving you a complete vacation. Go surfing in Miami, rent a yacht and take the girls out to sea, experience the life of a rich kid."

Beta clicked off the stove, the steam still rising from the pot: "You made up a ridiculous story."

John lifted the beagle in his arms higher: "The videotape is upstairs; you can watch it anytime."

"When do I need to listen to others' arrangements?" Beta squeezed the sauce into a spiral on the plate, the bacon fat slowly seeping into the pasta's texture.

He twirled a forkful of noodles, snapping it with a crisp "snap." "Don't wait for me tonight. I'm going to see some old friends; I need to get the stuff to Paris first."

John pulled the beagle closer to his arm and asked, "Need any help?"

Beta's fork hovered in mid-air: "What? Helen's video taught you how to improve our relationship?"

John said, "Now it's just the two of us left in this house." Beta continued rolling his pasta: "Just stay put. At fifty, even the toughest body can't take this much. Do you still think you're the kind of guy who can take a couple of bullets, get stitches, and then wipe out the entire mob?"

John sat at the dining table, his beagle craning its neck and sniffing the food on its plate with curiosity.

Beta quickly finished breakfast, picked up her car keys, and paused as she walked towards the garage: "Take some of the extra food from the fridge to Leon."

"Ah."

The garage door slowly rose, and a modified black Ford Mustang was quietly parked next to the Escalade. It was John's old relic, with meticulously tuned wheels and suspension; he always loved to tinker with this car.

Beta climbed into the driver's seat of the Escalade, and the massive vehicle slowly reversed out of the garage, its tires making a soft, rustling sound as they rolled over the gravel driveway. He preferred this kind of car.
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The massive Cadillac Escalade drove away from the quiet villa area and plunged into the congested city. It struggled to navigate the heavy traffic, stopping and starting frequently, taking quite some time before finally escaping the noisy urban area and heading towards the industrial suburbs.

Rows of drab, square-structured warehouse buildings stood like giant metal boxes. Beta rented one of the unassuming small warehouses to store some special items.

The Escalade drove along the narrow, straight concrete roads of the warehouse district. Finally, it came to a smooth stop in front of the roller shutter door marked "10". The engine shut off, the last whirring sound of tires rubbing against the ground dissipated, and an almost vacuum-like silence descended around them.

Beta got out of the car, and the dry air rushed towards him. He walked to the huge roller shutter door, bent down, grabbed the heavy metal handle, and pulled it upwards with all his might. "Whoosh!" A sharp metallic rolling sound broke the silence, and the roller shutter door slid open. At the same time, the few cold white LED lights on the warehouse ceiling lit up one by one, dispelling the darkness inside.

The warehouse was utterly unremarkable. Unfinished walls surrounded it, and a faint smell of dust and metal filled the air. Several categorized storage boxes were piled in the corner, while a set of silver-gray tool cabinets and a few empty metal shelves lined the wall. Everything appeared orderly, yet spacious.

Beta pulled down the roller shutter behind him and locked it with a click, completely cutting off the light from outside and leaving only the cold overhead lights illuminating the warehouse.

He went straight to the innermost tool cabinet and opened the door.

A full-length rectangular mirror, the same height as him, was embedded in the inside of the cabinet door, its smooth surface reflecting his image. Beside the mirror, neatly stacked were many plastic storage boxes of varying sizes. Through the semi-transparent lids, one could clearly see the meticulously categorized items inside: various lifelike braces, elastic shaping fillers used to subtly alter facial contours, and delicate sublingual depressors that could change the way one speaks and the quality of one's voice…

Beta dragged a chair over and sat down in front of the cabinet. He opened the sealed container of mask material, put on plastic gloves, and took out the semi-solidified gel from the container. After repeatedly rubbing it in his palm, he slowly spread it out into a thin sheet. Then, he took out a facial model from under the cabinet. It was a typical image of a middle-aged Mexican man, with a hooked nose, deep-set eyes, and well-defined features.

He skillfully covered the model surface with thin sheets of gel, pressing and piecing them together to ensure a perfect fit. The gel gradually solidified in the air, and before long, a complete mask extending from the top of the head to the neck was formed.

Beta removed the newly formed headpiece from the model. She then meticulously applied a special adhesive to key areas such as the forehead, bridge of the nose, and cheekbones.

He first applied hair wax to fix his hair, then slowly put on the mask like a hood. His fingertips traced the contours of his face, pressing down on every possible protruding edge—the sides of his nose, his hairline, his jawline—ensuring there wasn't a single flaw. Finally, he fine-tuned the fit of the eyepiece in the mirror to ensure a natural look.

Next came the finishing touch: Beta carefully applied fake eyebrows and a beard, and then used special glue to embellish a few acne scars and fine marks.

When the last strand of wig was secured, an unfamiliar face appeared in the mirror—a middle-aged Mexican man with sharp eyes and weathered features; the original Beta had completely disappeared under the disguise.

(End of this chapter)