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[Nazareth]

(1) Old Habits


EDIT: Got bored of the title. I might change it again later. Thanks for the tip BC.

In case you’re in doubt, this is a Hitman story. If you’re too lazy to read through it, 47 makes his debut in the second half of part two.




Giving a speech on the news station is a man name Serge Kayaru, a self-proclaimed freedom fighter who some would call a hero. He has built a reputation battling underground slave rings with much success over years. Not only Afrika but also in Asia, Uganda, Uzbekistan and Yugoslavia. He travels with an entourage of female bodyguards all of which have been former slaves and now have sworn an oath to him. Ten are with Kayaru at the moment but it is believed he has a small army. Right now he's giving a press conference live to the public on fighting this atrocity. That was before a splatter of blood came across the 20 inch Magnavox TV.


'Do we look homeless?' I said. “There’s already color on the tube so don't add your own fucking Red-Ray Hi-definition. Take a seat and make yourself at home."


My crew drags him to one of the chairs, sat him down and cuffed him to it. The four of us are about to go to work. Everybody had the usual white overall jumpsuits. No, more like white and red with all the bloodstains. Today we got on plastic face mask of US presidents. Since I was top dog I chose Washington. My second is Hamilton and the others are Lincoln and Jackson. Personally I would have been fine with just ski mask and call it a day but the guys like to do this dress up shit from time to time. That and I lost the damn coin toss. The poor bastard I'm standing in front of has a brown maintence staff uniform on. Nothing special, just some low life about to be punished.


We're in one of our custom basements we sometimes bring folks to ask hard questions or just to work over. It was a big enough room with grey brick walls. To the far right was where we kept our equipment and to the left there are shackles on the wall, enough to hold five people max. Did a little decorating by adding a TV and couch about seven feet behind where I'm standing. All of us were in the middle of the room with most of the lights off for effect. Except for what an overhead bulb and what was coming from everyone's favorite idiot box.


"The mask should help you think of us as part of the system that runs this poor excuse of a country."


I stop to read the id in his wallet. "Chester". I said only reading the first name. No need to be formal.


"And the system is made to steal, cheat and bleed you dry. Not the other way around."


Of course he was scared and he should be. Sweating already.


"Goddamn your dripping all over the place. Let me dry you off."


I threw a cross to his right eye. On cue Lincoln pulled his head back.


"You’re getting off light. Very light."


I pulled out a photo from his wallet and watched his eyes light up.


"Won't mind getting a piece of that action. The wife and daughter got it going on." Jackson said.


"Wanna run a train on them?" Hamilton added.


"No no no no please don't them! I-I know I screwed up and I'm willing to accept the consequences, just-"


I cut him off with another cross. Don't get me wrong, I like it when they beg. But when it just goes on and on and on I get annoyed.


"I don't give a rat's ass what you’re willing to accept. You’re gonna take what I give. Like I said your getting off light but if I were you, I won't push my luck. Understood?'


"Y-yes sir."


"Took some serious kahunas trying to do a snatch and grab from Ms. Marquez."


"Fucking gigantic pair." Lincoln joined in.


"But she's a reasonable women...sometimes. She just wants to make sure you learn from your mistakes, and that you don't repeat them." I continued.


I pull out a switchblade. Lincoln then yanks down Chester"s pants.


"So we're gonna cut off the problem from the source"


Then I took off his underwear and was ready...when I saw some work had already been done. His dick was there and nothing else. We glanced at each other then back at our captive.


"Umm...what's wrong with this picture here Chester? Didn't think we'd be beaten to the punch. Care to elaborate? "


"Please..."


"Speak up."


"Do...whatever you’re going to do."


"That was the plan until we found out we were a little late. Now all of us are curious"


"Go to hell."


I slapped him with the back of my hand. Gave him a moment to recover, and then kicked him in the chest with enough force to knock him backwards to the ground. Let him have a few seconds to spit some blood.


"Well?"


"What does...what does it matter. You'll kill me anyway."


"Naw, we ain't gonna kill you. Right guys?"


"Nope"


"Not that I know of."


"Can't say it's why I got out of bed this morning."


"You see Chester?" I said. “Marquez just gave orders to fuck you up a little."


I showed his family photo again.


"She didn't mention anything about them though."


Chester let out a sigh of defeat. He shut his eyes as a tear ran down his face.


"Okay." He whispered.


"Come again?"


"You win."


"I know I won. I'm waiting on the fucking prize."


"I.....sold them."


"You serious?" Hamilton sounded surprised. Shit, to be honest we were all thrown in for a loop.


"And why would you do that?"


"For my family."


"Huh. The times are more fucked up then I thought if you need to sale your body parts."


"Didn't see that coming" How much?" Jackson asked.


"$3,000."


"Per nut?"


"Total."


"Damn man. You either got ripped the fuck off or they smaller than I thought. I would've got $50,000. Each."


"$75,000 for mine." Hamilton said grabbing his crotch.


"You'd only get that if you sold all the hair off'em as a weave for the other $74,000."


There was a soft chuckling that I know pissed Hamilton off. He was about to step toward Jackson but then we saw it was really coming from Chester.


"Sounds like mine have greater value than yours." He said.


"Shit we forgot about you for a second." Hamilton responded pulling him out of his chair.


That's when we let it rain on him: Punches to the head, kicks to his back and stomach. Non-stop for almost half an hour. He was still breathing afterwards, but not moving. Jackson removed the handcuffs and put them in his pocket, which made me frown at him.


"I got a date in a few hours and I'd want to use these. Besides Mr. Gone-without-his-nuts doesn't need'em.


"Let's just dump him already." Lincoln said.


"Whoa whoa hold up. America's Next Top Model’s about to come on. We’ll do it after. I said.


"The hell y'all see in them pick-up sticks." Jackson complained. "They're so goddamn skinny, when you try and stick your dick in them, you probably break'em in two."


"Better then those water balloons you be with. So fucking thick and hungry all the time, I'd be scared to stick it in because I might not see my dick again." I replied.


That cracked up Lincoln and Hamilton. Jackson flipped us the bird before turning to leave.


"I'll leave you to your poor man’s porn."









"Help.....please....god..."


"Would you kindly shut the fuck up? Trying to watch the show."


The three of us were laid back on the couch, each with a cold beer. Watching the idiot box waiting for our favorite models to take the stage. The exercise was about a photo-shoot where they choose whatever career they hope to have but was too stupid to think they would really get. Most of them anyway. The most realistic was the Housewife. But with the red white plaid dress that almost came up to her crack, the red pumps and the blonde French braid ponytail, she turned Housewife into Housewhore.


"I need a doctor.....please somebody...."


"Lincoln turn the volume down back there would you." I said.


"But my girl's about to come up."


"Then stop wasting time."


He rolled his eyes before picking himself up rushing his way to nutless. I didn't care. I was the top guy here and this is one of the perks. Heard two or three hits land followed by some coughing before Lincoln sat back down. His chick was a fitness trainer wearing a pink tank top and black skin-tight shorts. She had a rack on her but was too slim to have enough figure for an ass or even some nice legs.


"Shack that ass baby!" Lincoln said excitedly.


"What ass?" Hamilton objected. "In fact she so skinny I'm shocked her tits don't pull her to the ground."


"You’re saying you wouldn't fuck that?"


"The tits are all I see worth fucking."


"What about her face?"


"She got braces! Where's the appeal? Or will I find it at the bottom of my drink."


"To each man's own." A voice said.


Everybody turned around. Lincoln even jumped to his feet...or tried to. Something smashed and splattered over his head and he dropped like a brick. Whatever it was that hit him sprayed a little in my face. It happens so fast but I think it was wood. I didn't have time to wipe my eyes because next the couch was forced backwards, laying me on my back. Hamilton was also on his back, trying to reach his piece when somebody's foot stomped on his face. I rolled backwards to my feet, using one hand to wipe my eyes and the other to get my gun. Took a blow to the neck that made me drop it and kneel. A pair of hands grabs the back of my suit while I'm trying to recover, pulls me up and shoves me head first into the TV.






__________________________________________





Something wet and warm was hitting my face. It moved to the right of me then the left, and back on me again. I tried to ignore it but it kept hitting my eyes. Finally it stopped, but I was greeted by a throbbing pain in my nose. Tried rubbing it, only to find I couldn't move my arms. I looked and saw I was shackled to the wall, with Washington and Lincoln on both sides of me, shackled. In front of us was Chester, standing sideways peeing on the floor.


"You just fucking pissed on us!?" Washington started but then began coughing.


He tried yelling more but kept coughing instead. There were shards of glass in his face, then I saw the hole in the TV where the glass belonged. Chester zipped up and walked around the now lit basement, moving past the couch where pieces of the chair we had him in laid on. Probably what he hit Lincoln with. He was checking all the tools we used for malpractice: Different kinds of knifes, a few scalpels, aluminum bat, couple of hammers, one sledgehammer and a chainsaw. There was a way he was stroking his hand across them that made me uneasy. It was like he was reminiscing over each one. What was really bugging the hell out of me was how he carried himself. We spent good twenty or so minutes beating the shit out of this guy: One eye closed shut, broken nose, busted face, and some broken ribs for sure, but he was walking around like he owned the place.


"If you have a fucking clue what's good for you, let us go before you dig a big enough hole your family can't climb out of!" Washington finally caught his breath. Chester ignored the threats, still eyeing the tools.


"I know you hear me! If you want a chance in hell of living though this, don't even think about touching that shit! And be thankful we weren't planning on using it.!"


"Really?" He responded while walking toward us with a knife in hand.


"You got caught stealing the boss. Her orders are too rough you up. End this now and it stops here."


"And you President Hamilton?" He asked me while stroking my face with the side of the blade.


"Nothing more than a beat down. We just brought you here 'cause it's quiet. Be smart about this Chester. You touch us your life is over."


I spoke as cool and calm as possible. Times like these you never show fear, it's a weakness.


"President Lincoln. You can verify this as well?"


"I give you my word."


"Are you sure?"


"I swear on my mother's grave. That thing about cutting off your balls was just for effect."


"Well...That's disappointing." Chester said dropping the knife.


"Say what?"


"From an organization with your status, I had hoped there would be more."


"Let's us loose and we be happy to oblige." Washington said.


"The chance has come and gone. Gave you plenty of time. Now it's my turn."


"Marquez is gonna show you a whole new fucking world of-


I swear at the speed of goddamn lighting, Chester slammed his hand on Washington's neck. No, his fingers were buried in there, blood running down them! Washington bit down on his tongue while gagging, eyes bulging. It lasted about five seconds before Chester ripped his throat out. I don't even think knew what was happening. Yelling one minute then choking and bleeding to death the next. What I saw next was even worse. He started fucking eating what he ripped out!


"What kind of sick fuck are you!?" Lincoln took the words out of my mouth. "You just killed...ain't fucking way your-


"Shut up" I shouted.


"You’re telling me to shut up? You see what fuck-


"I said shut it! I'm next in rank so fall in fucking line!"


I didn't see much reason to piss Chester off. He was in control and it didn't mean jackshit if we like or not. But we're still alive so there had to be a chance. Afterwards Lincoln and I will gladly give this cocksuker what he deserves. By now I guess there's not much point going on with the president names. But what can I say? I'm came up in the era of if you got caught, you always keep your mouth shut. Call it a old habit but I rather not give out names, even if Chester already knew them.



"You know who we work for, so you know we got money" Name your price."


This whole time he was still chawing down and paid no attention to us until he finished.


"I apologize. Haven't eating anything all day. Needed something to hold me over until the main course."


"Are you saying..."


"No. I can wait until I catch up with President Jackson."


Something hits me then: Jackson took off the handcuffs. Was he in on this shit? As if he knew what I was thinking, Chester then showed a nasty cut on his left wrist that had stiches. He ripped them out and dug into the open wound, pulling out a tiny razorblade and a thin piece of a metal wire as long as my index finger.


"One for if you restrained me with rope. The other for cuffs. But this turned out easier than I expected when Jackson removed the cuffs. Still it's always better to have and not need, then to need and not have."


He was getting creeper by the minute.


"So why?" I dreaded having to ask.


"The short answer to your question is I enjoy it." He replied putting away his escape kit.


"You got your rocks off on us kicking the fuck outta you?" Lincoln asked.


"I wouldn't put that way, but yes."


"What are you - part of some fucked S&M club?"


"Those places are overrated, child's play. Not willing to go the distance. Also I like being both slave and master. Few people in the world are that...optimistic."


"$10 million. You'll have it by the end of the week." I said trying to hide my desperation.


"These tools you have here are effective but basic. If I had to guess I say you got these from the same hardware store. Nothing's wrong with that just doesn't show much creativity"


As he spoke he moved in front of the dead president, searching the pockets until he found his wallet. He took out a small clear bottle and tossed the wallet. It's strange: this room is full of shit I pry would never be used on me. But right now I was more scared of a bottle as big as my thumb.


“You can find inspiration almost anywhere. Take America's Next Top Model for example: you know what those women go through to keep their shape?"


"Diet and exercise, what else." Lincoln said.


"Bulimarexia."


He popped open the lid and brought it to my face. I tried shutting my mouth and moving my head side to side. He placed his hand on my Adam’s apple and slowly squeezed until I was gasping. A drop or two went down my throat then he let go and stepped back. I felt a brief sting and suddenly throw up. Could barely hear what he was saying over my own noise.


"Ipecac. Sometimes used by undercover operatives. This comes in handy if they want to give the impression of being drunk. It will make you puke on cue, although it only works once in one setting. I manage to spice it up for repeated use. Hope it works."


I spit what vomit I had left at him. The fucker didn't seem to care.


“That very show of yours gave the idea to try it out. This would sale like hot cakes for models."


He repeated the process with Lincoln and then me again, back and forth. Kept forcing us to drink that shit until my throat was sour. I let the tears roll down my cheeks as he made me puke non-stop, getting weaker and weaker by the second. Must 've barfed up two days’ worth of food. Can't tell how much time passed, but finally a miracle happened. I started choking on my own vomit. Lincoln was bagging for it to stop, crying like a baby. In any other case I'd call him a pussy. But now I can't blame him. All I could do was hope he's gets as lucky as I am.








What you guys think? Should I continue?

Edited by Nazareth, 23 April 2013 - 08:27 PM.

[Cerb]

You definitely want to work on your spelling and grammar, but it's pretty good thus far. I say you should.

[Nazareth]

(2) First of the Month








"I love you daddy."


"How much?"


"This much." He said then stretched his arms as wide as he could.


"But that's not enough."


"What is enough?" He asked looking confused.


"You’re supposed to say I love you from here to the moon."


"I love you from here to the moon!"


"That's still not enough."


"Stop playing daddy!" He said giving me a little push.


"I love you too Orson."


"Let me stay with you. I hate mommy."


"Now champ, I know it hasn't been easy on you but you can't say that about your mom. She loves you too."


"Orson! Say goodbye already and get your little ass in this house!"


That's Candice, my cunt of an ex-wife. I guess she stepped out on the porch when Phil and I pulled up, but I didn't see her. Or maybe that's because I didn't want to see her. The expression on Orson's face told me he felt similar.


"Please please can I stay with you?"


"Sorry Orson. You gotta go with your mom."


"She's not my mom."


I can see the tears started forming in his eyes and it killed me.


"Can you keep a secret?"


He nodded. I pulled him close and whisper in his ear.


"The next time I pick you up, we'll go somewhere far away and never come back."


"You promise?"


"Cross my heart."


That made him smile and give me a hug.


"Now Orson!" Candice yelled.


I gave him a kiss on the cheek then he turned to run in the house, going past Candice without saying anything. After he was in she walks up to me.


"Singing the same sad ass song to him like you did for me Elden?"


"Don't start Candice. I'm just dropping him off and leaving."


"I don't know why you bother. Your unemployed, so you should stop wasting what little money you have on taking him out and save it for child support."


"You know I got laid off six months back. Stop talking to me as if I ain't trying."


"All this time we've been togather and your still stuck in the same goddamn rut."


"When the hell was it you became so materialistic?"


"When was it you fell in love with being broke? We already lost a shit load of money on Orson."


"You’re the one who didn't want to get pregnant! And we agreed on adopting!"


"You agreed. And now you’re paying the cost!"


"Stop fighting!" Orson shouted from the front door.


"Get back in the fucking house!"


"Stop cursing at him!"


Then she slapped me. Right in front of Orson. In front of Phil who was waiting on me in the car. All I could do was grind my teeth and take it...for now.


"Don't tell me what to do. Ever. And I don't care how you’re gonna do it, but you better keep coming through with the payments, or I will call my sister."


She finally leaves and goes back inside. I gave one last wave to Orson and he waves back before Candice pushes him away and closes the door. I climb back into the minivan with my friend.


"I can't wait for you to show that bitch up." Phil said.


"Thanks again for driving us Phil."


"Anytime. You'll be able to afford your own ride by the end of today."


"Please man; just make sure nobody gets killed. Please."


"We already went over this. At the most we'll shoot their legs and that's it.


"I don't even want to do that much. Are you sure the manger is in?"


"My guy confirms it. Look for the most expensive suit in the joint."


"You never told me who your guy is."


"Take my word for it, you don't want to know."


"But you trust him?"


"All I know is he offered me some work. You remember what work is right? It's that thing we haven't had in almost a year, and possibly may never have again!"


"Hey, I know all about it! I'm a fucking expert on not finding a job! I'm just...not sure about this."


"Look I'm sorry I snapped at you. I don't want to do this shit either, but I need the money. I told you about the job and you wanted in. If you change your mind I understand."


"No. It's okay. I'm just a little worried. Let's pick up the rest of the boys."


The rest of the boys are my former co-workers. We were just five out of the twenty construction workers that they had to let go, and in this day and age finding another job was like winning the lottery. Then Phil gets an offer from some friend of his to rob a bank and steal some watch hidden in a safe deposit box. I guess it has sentimental value or something. That's what we were getting paid for but as a bonus we're getting whatever money we can from the tellers. All in all it should be a great pay out. Still, a life of crime was never part of my five year plan. That's why this is my first and last job. Afterwards I take Orson and get the hell out of the country. Everybody knows the score. Each man has a duffel bag with clothes and a gun or two, which was provide by Phil’s guy. Arnold was waiting outside his apartment building when we pulled up.


"Goddamn Arnold. What's with the bright Hawaiian get up?" Phil asked.


"I'm dress for where I'll be by the end of the week honey. Elden, hey baby!"


"What's going on Arnold."


"Still thinking about you."


"Can you do me a favor and stop picturing me naked."


"Can't help it. I told you we would've been better than that Candice bitch."


"As charming as you are Arnold, I still rather pussy over cock."


"Can't knock it until you try it."


"I just don't see the appeal of having a cock up your shithole." Phil said.


"Any man is open to like it"


"Not any man."


"You enjoy taking a dump don't you?"


"Yeah..."


"I see the kind of food you eat Phil. Bet you be dropping out loads bigger than your penis. If it feels good to have that coming out of your butt, then having something go in it won't feel much worse."


"Wait a minute. I said. "So by that odd sense of logic, do you shoot a load every time you shit a load Arnold?"


Phil broke out laughing.


"He probably jerks off while he's sitting on the john."


Now everybody's laughing. Arnold can take a joke as good as he gives one. He's always a fun guy to hang out with, but I'm still wary about getting wasted with him. We were almost at Pete's place when we notice a police car came behind us and turned on its siren. My heart was already racing.


"Oh fuck. I gotta pull over." Phil said.


"But...what if they ask to search the car?" Arnold asked.


"We're coming up on an ally I'll park by. If anything happens we'll have to-"


"You said nobody gets killed!" I almost shouted.


"We'll just have to wound them. Maybe stuff them in the trunk of their car or something. I don't know. Right now everybody keep cool. It might be nothing."


When the cop car parked behind us, we were somewhat relieved it was only one person. But the feeling passed after I saw who it was.


"You gotta be kidding me. Is that Brittney?" Phil asked.


"Yep. My ex-wife's big goddamn sister."


"You know what she wants?"


"She's here to screw with me."


Brittney got out her car and came toward us. I didn't waste any time and got out so I can get this shit over with.


"Did I tell you to step out sir?"


"I know you’re here for me Brittney so stop fucking around."


"I'm only going to tell you once sir. Please return to your vehicle." She replied resting a hand on her holster.


Didn't have much choice but to play her game. I couldn’t afford to get busted. Not today. Phil rolled down his window and had his ID on hand. Arnold hid his bag from view as best he could.


"You know why I pulled you over?"


"Can't say I do officer."


"Someone in your car matches a profile of a suspect." She looks at me. "Can you step out of the car sir?"


I did what I was told and she stepped in front of me.


"You have your ID on you sir?"


"Yes."


"May I see it please?"


I hand it to her. She looks at it for a few minutes then back at me, pretending to studying it.


"Well Elden, your ID looks like a fake to me. I have to take it with me and have it checked out."


"Can't you look it up in your car's computer?"


"That computer seems to have a virus in it."


"Why do I even bother."


"Come again?"


"Your sister left me, Brittney. Why can't you leave me too?"


"I noticed some bags in the car. Planning on leaving?"


"To get away from Candice and you, hell yes! But I'd never leave Orson."


"You’re not going anywhere without proper ID. But just to be sure, why don't you open up one of those bags."


The guys and I looked at one another, trying to figure out our next move. We might have to take this as far as Phil suggested. But in Brittney's case I almost wanted to.


"I don't have all day."


"They belong to Arnold."


"Ok. Arnold can you step out and show your bags?"


He came out but left the bags.


"Unless you have a warrant officer, I don't have to show you anything."


"It wasn't a request Arnold." She said while pulling out her Nightstick.


"I know you’re not going to touch me with that honey."


Nope. Instead she touched me with it pretty hard in the gut. I drop to my knees groaning in pain.


"Your right. But I'll have to run in Elden since he fits the description."


Arnold looked at me and I gave him the nod. We're gonna take her down. As Arnold went to grab a bag I rose to my feet, looking at Phil and nodding. I knew he had his gun on him. Arnold came back out and dropped one of the bags. Brittney bent down and opened the zipper. On top were clothes that she eyed up and down before putting her hand inside. The three of us are ready to make our move.


"All units! Be advised there has been a reported shooting at a pharmacy on 47th street. Suspects are on foot."


Saved by the goddamn bell. If there's anything Brittney loves more than making my life difficult, it's chasing down bad guys. She rushed back to her car. Because she was in a hurry I thought I'd wave her off with one finger. Phil and Arnold followed suit as she drove off.


"The fuck did you ever see in her sister?" Arnold asked.


"I wish I could remember."


"It's gonna be a little harder for you getting out of town. She's got your ID."


"Don't worry about it. If she was any good at being a cop, she'd see the ID actually is fake. It's not the first time Brittney pulled this shit on me."


"Come on." Phil said. "Let's round up the guys and get this show on the road."








_________________________________________________










Been a long time since I last operated in the states. Can't say I missed it. This country seems to get uglier each time I visit. Not because of the Depression. All that's done was strip away the surface to the rot waiting underneath. Not that it's much better in most parts of the world. Some of my more sophisticated assignments have taken place here, another reason I'm not too enthusiastic. Still, the pay is good and the only reason I'm walking into Diamondback bank. While my target is present, I've already scheduled the execution in a few days. The second part of the objective is to steal a watch the manger has in a safety deposit box, privately owned by the manger. I have the schematic of the building memorized and the dossiers of everyone working here.


Security is a five man team. They were all obese but I can tell they knew how to handle themselves. Doesn't matter much but good to know never the less. The coloring was different from most banks. Lighter and darker shades of blue squares on the floor and ceiling while the walls were diamond shape gray. Somewhat tacky. Probably the manger's idea based on his profile. Vincent Farentino didn't own the bank but ran it otherwise. His obsessive and egotistic behavior has made co-workers wary of him. Three tellers have quit because they couldn't stand him. Still he handles business exceptionally well. My homework is done, but there's always something new to learn from hands on recon that can't be found in a file.


As I come in I look at all sighs and read booklets as if it's my first time in here. This allowed me to check the surrounds before the guards would start paying attention. One of them went on break with a teller in the basement where the vault is located. The others simply walk the floor. All of them are working double shifts and it showed. Farentino was in his office screaming on a phone. Five minutes later he slammed down the receiver and stormed toward the bathroom. I'm about to have a sit down with a banker and use my cover ID to-


(Gunshot) "Everybody on the floor now! Now goddamnit!"


Instantly I push the banker off her chair and crouch behind her desk, then stick my head out for a quick look. There were five of them dressed in black sweatshirts, black jeans and military boots, all wearing ski mask. Whenever there's a change in plans I assume the worst. My first thought was that they were a hit team and I almost draw my Silverballers. I stop myself when I hear more shouting then shooting. It was a standoff between them and the guards. Two of them have hostages and are threating to kill them if security refuses to surrender. Ten more seconds of yelling and they fire a shot into one of the captive’s leg. After this the guards decide to lower their weapons, which surprises me.


"What in the flying fu-"


That was Farentino before one of the masked men knocked him to the ground with the butt of his gun. That seems to piss him off, as evidence of him still screaming at them. It earned him a few kicks to the ribs until he shut up. They started rounding up the tellers from their stations and bringing them to the main floor. One of them picked up Farentino and was moving him towards my position. Again I thought about taking them out but there are two things making me hesitate: They outnumber and outgun me...somewhat. If this was indeed a hit squad they'd be better armed. Instead, between the five of them there's two Kel-Tec P32/P3ATs, a rather cheap pistol type who's price can be anywhere between $318 to $382. Less than that if your buying from a black-market. Its small size makes it very easy to conceal but due to a small mag and limited power, it's best suited as a last choice defense weapon.


Another one was a Taurus Public Defender Polymer .410/45lc. A better choice but far from a ideal assault firearm. There were also a double-barreled saw-off shotgun and a American Tactical imports SMG. This group was under a tight budget, which made it seem they were only here to rob the bank. Still no matter the arsenal, they were a threat. The second problem was that if I eliminated them, it would draw attention to myself. There are at least twenty witnesses who'd see me as a hero. Win or lose, both paths have unwanted outcomes. I decide to do nothing and watch for now. They pull me from my hiding place behind the desk and drag me to the floor with everyone else. I did my best to act afraid.


"Please no! Please don't hurt me!"


They laid Farentino next to me and moved on to the cash registers. If that's all they're here for they should be able to escape before police arrive, provided they don't get greedy. One of them went downstairs, came back up with the teller and guard on break, and then went back down to the vault. I needed to resolve this. Their presence compromised the mission. I was wearing my black suit, white striped shirt and red tie, so the robbers assumed I wasn't armed. How was I going to use this?


"These pissants are in a world of shit they don't know about." Farentino said.


An idea just came to mind. Not a great one, but I had to take the chance or risk blowing the mission.


"Psst. Mr.Farentino." I whispered.


"Can't you see I'm being robbed?"


"FBI. I can stop this but I need your help."


"FBI? What are you waiting for, just shoot them already."


Watching the mask men, I slowly pull out one of my ballers and hand it to him.


"The hell are you giving me this?"


"I need you to play along with what I'm about to do. When I look at you and nod, that'll be your signal."


"Why am I doing your fucking job?"


"Please keep your voice low Mr.Farentino. I have another gun on me. When I give the signal I'll make my move, and if you want to save your bank I suggest you back me. Understood?"


"Yeah, yeah I got it."


"Alright where the fuck is Vincent Farentino?" One of them demanded.


I raised my hand.








Any feedback is appreciated.

Edited by Nazareth, 31 August 2012 - 07:53 AM.

[Nazareth]

(3) And Last of the Month








I still can't believe I'm doing this! Why the hell did Phil have to shoot that guy? It was only in the leg but still! The guards were already bought off, and how did I get stuck with one of the world's smallest guns? "Since you don't plan on shooting anybody you shouldn't give a fuck" Phil had told me. I guess he had a point. I don't know much about pistols but I still wouldn't mind something a little bigger. You get what you pay for I guess. But enough of that. Another ten minutes then we're gone, so I'll save my pissing and moaning for later. Time to get the manger. At first I thought the loud mouth coming from the restroom was Farentino, but a bald guy who showed his hand had on the more expensive looking suit. I pick him up and push him toward the stairway to meet Phil at the vault.



"Hello Mr.Farentino." Phil said circling him. "You’re not quite what I expected. What's with the barcode tattoo?"


"One of life's lessons: Never mix cocaine, alcohol and intoxicated friends together. You'll end up with the serial number from a bottle of Courvoisier on the back of your head."


"Ha! Didn't take you for the type to party that hard. Why not try to have it removed?"


"Their next paycheck will remove it."


"Really? With a suit like that I wouldn't think you'd be hard up for cash."


"It's...a rental. Wearing it for a funeral."


"Depending on what you do now, you'll either be late or right on time. Open it."


I knew Phil was getting a kick out of playing tough guy, probably practiced in a mirror. I'm not gonna lie, he wasn't bad at it. I just wish he speed the fuck up with it. Besides I don't think barcode baldie was really intimidated. Sure he acted like he was but it just doesn't feel one hundred percent genuine. If you look at his eyes you won't see any fear what-so-ever. Now I'm not some master of horror or anything but...it's just something about this guy's aura that makes me nervous. Took a moment but he opened the safety deposit box. Another minute and.....oh Jesus Christ! I think I hear sirens!


"Cops! Get up here now!" Arnold shouted.





_________________________________________________








Fear was something I haven't felt since childhood. Surprisingly it was more difficult to portray then expected. I made a note to stumble over my words but didn't. Producing sweat or tears would help, but that wasn't going to happen. Tried to keep forcing my hands to shake as I opened the deposit box. Already lifted Farentino's key during our chat on the floor. I may be acting overly compliant and I'm certain at least one of them didn't buy it. This is something I should work on. Then again this is the first time I ever needed to act afraid on a contract, and hopefully the last. Police sirens started ringing and one of them shouted from the main floor. They grab me and run upstairs. The hostages and guards were still face down on the ground.


"I thought your guy had the alarms covered! The fuck is this!"



They move past me to see outside. Based on what one of them just said it's clear they have, or were suppose have inside help. Have to check up on that later. I stood there with my hands up and watch them argue. Finally a phone rings. They were either too busy yelling at one another to notice or simply choose to ignore it. Regardless, it was time to make my next move. I look over at Farentino who in turn was watching me and nod at him. He immediately climbed to his feet and fired at the robbers. I reach in my jacket and pretend I was going to pull my baller, then duck behind the nearest desk and grab a phone.



"Please help us! They're shooting everyone!


"Sir, I need you to calm down and tell us-"


"There's five of them and they're walking around killing us! Six dead already!"


"Sir if you could please-"


"I think it's terrorist! They say they're going to make the police look bad on the news for their slow response time. Oh my god they see me! All of them are coming at me in the back! Now’s your chance. Please no-"


I position the receiver so the gunshots can be heard as clear as possible, then take a quick peek. Two of them were wounded on the floor. The other three found cover, as did Farentino, and were exchanging bullets. He quickly emptied the baller and was screaming for me to help. I fade into the shadows and wait.







____________________________________________







I couldn't tell you how the fuck everything went downhill so fast. First the cops show up, and then while I was scolding Phil and the others, some asshole starts shooting us! Arnold and Pete got hit. I trip over one of the hostages and hit the floor, but I manage to hold on to my gun. I lay there not knowing what to do or what was going on. I've never been in a gunfight in my life. In no way am I a trained soldier with super speed and reflexes. I stayed frozen where I was until I felt someone dragging me behind a desk. Phil and Joseph did all the shooting. Soon the fucker ran out of ammo and they went to finish him off. I crawl over to our wounded. Pete...is gone. Arnold is hit badly in his shoulder, rolling from side to side.


"Give me something to cover this with!"


Phil goes over to a hostage and rips off their shirt and brings it to me. I use it to rap over the wound as best I could.


"Just hang in there! You’re gonna be fine."


"Shit! Shit! I'm so sorry man!" Phil cried.


"Just shut up and fig-"


"Police! Drop your weapons!"


They stormed through the doors full force. Out of fear I aim my gun. Phil and Joseph were already had cover while I stayed kneeled by Arnold. Why am I even bothering? It's over. I didn't want to die, and I wanted get Arnold to a hospital. Maybe a few years down the line I'll see Orson again. At least I won't have....you gotta be fucking joking! What are fucking chances that I see none other than Brittney in the goddamn SWAT! She'd be more than happy to haul my ass away, probably to meet some of her buddies in jail. There would never be a moment's peace. I wasn't thinking anymore. The sight of that bitch was enough to make me aim at her and squeeze the trigger.





__________________________________________





"It's safe to come in Detective."


"I don't need you to hold my goddamn hand. What have we got?"


"Five dead bad guys, armed with some rather light artillery. I mean this is the kind of crap better used to knock off liquor stores. None of them have priors. I guess they thought this was a get rich quick scheme."


"Fucking idiots. Casualties?"


"The manger Vincent Farentino. They gave him a face full of buckshot, must've pissed'em off. We found an empty gun on him so he probably shot the two preps before SWAT came in. Sons of bitches took down one of our own - Britney Wright. Fucked up thing I don't get was when the shooting started, all of them were aiming at her."


"Do more background checks, see if there's some story behind it. Anyone else? The guy on the phone said six dead."


"No other bodies have been found Detective. He was probably freaking out from the shooting. All in all it looks like a clean case of a robbery gone wrong. Or right depending on who you are."


"Cameras?"


"Should have them any minute."


"Alright, I need to take a leak. Where's the bathroom?"


"I'll walk with you; I need to use the can too."






"Diamond shape marble walls. A bit much for a bathroom."


"Looks kind of nice to me."


"That's why I get the big bucks Sergeant."


"Because you like cheap shit? I'm a head into this stall and let you hear what I think of your opinion."


"That's no way to talk to your superior of- (Bang, bang).






________________________________________





Finally I could pull myself out of the vent above one of the bathroom stalls. It was such a tight fit I had to remove my suit. Sliding out was tricky. First I dropped my silenced baller to the floor, and then landed on the toilet seat with my hands before positioning myself upright. Immediately I locked the entrance door, and then check the bodies. Two carefully placed shots to their heads with no blood on the clothes. One was wearing a SWAT uniform. That would have been the easier disguise to assume, but I wanted the higher ranking officer. He had on a tan colored trench coat over a white shirt with a black tie and black pants. He also had on sunglasses that would help. There are two problems: He is much heavier than me and has an army style buzz cut complete with a thick mustache.



Fortunately his facial hair was thick enough to cut it off as a whole. There's no glue or tape to make it stick. I check the coat again. Its looks tan enough against my face to almost not be seen, so I cut some of the smallest threads possible to tie it around my head. Put on the skull cap the SWAT member had. As for the weight I'd wear a fat man suit, but that wasn't an option. Today I needed to use....clothes. Hated that I had to ruin the perfect creases in my suit, however this sometimes happens with my line of work. My suit filled the role of the body fat, needed more for the legs. I used some of the SWAT's outfit. Last I check the IDs. My name is Detective Nick Anderson with Sergeant Michael Eisenberg.



I place the bodies in a stall and head out the door. Thought about cleaning the blood, but couldn't tell how much time was available before someone knocked. The best that could be done was locking the door as I left. The police all nodded their heads or said Detective as I passed by. First I went back to the safety deposit box that was still open. Just a simple matter of waiting for no one to be looking before pocketing the watch. With both objectives completed it was time to retrieve my other Sliverballer. The forensic team haven't left yet meaning my weapon was nearby.



"Where you'd put the piece found on Farentino?" I asked one of them, speaking in a deep raspy voice.


"We moved it out to our van. Sir what's wrong with your voice?"


"Got a sour throat. Which van did you say?"


"The one parked closest to the bank. The camera footage is there too."


"Good work."


"Uhh sir? If you want-"


"That's it for now."


Three minutes later I was inside the back of the van. Two officers were watching the video while eating donuts. The box was nearly empty.


"Who the hell ate all the donuts?" I said with the same voice.


"Hey we left a couple."


"You got all the jellyrolls prick. Both of you take a break and get some more."


"The hell's up with your voice Nick?"


"Need more jellyrolls for my sour throat, and address me as sir or Detective."


"Alright, we're leaving. When you grow a stick up your ass?"



They get out and I have the place to myself. Doesn’t take long to locate the baller. That with the videotape and I'm done. Anderson's keys suggest he drives a Camry. I was nearly there when someone calls behind me. Turning around with my hand on a baller, I'm ready. It's one of the forensic people I spoke to.


"Detective! I got some cough drops I thought might help."


"Thanks. They'll be bringing donuts back soon. Tell them I said they're for your team."


That seems to make him smile.



"Why thanks sir! Hey I wanted to ask about-"



I got in the car and drove off.

Edited by Nazareth, 31 August 2012 - 08:11 AM.

[Nazareth]

Since I already wrote these scenes, might as well keep posting right?




(4) Not Exactly a Nine to Five







"She'll be here any minute Delio! Put away the cigarettes so you don't smell like smoke!"


"Nothing to worry about Andre, I'm good."


"Don't lie to her like you do yourself. Try to relax."



He was right but it didn't make me feel better. I force myself to put out cigarette and stuff pack in pocket. Blow in palm of my hand and smell smoke along with cheeseburger I ate this morning. As if on cue, Maverick handed me a pack of Tic-Tacs.


"Thanks."


My girl Maverick. She comes through when she knows I need it. To clarify, she is not girlfriend. Only a partner. As is Andre. We were sitting outside a cafe shop under a large white umbrella. Andre and I sat across each other while Maverick sat at table next to us. Out of the three of us, she was best dressed for the occasion: Fixing her straight black hair down to her shoulders over her light green business jacket and black blouse, with black business pants and Hill boots. For an Asian women she is surprisingly tall, about six-one I think.


Andre has a muscular build he loves showing off whenever possible. Today he wears one of his favorite silk gold colored short sleeve shirts and black silk pants. We're here for interview yet he dresses for a date. Andre was even arrogant enough to bring a flower. I had a stroke of shitty luck when washer machine fucked most of my suit. As such I had on a white pin striped shirt with a purple tie. A pair of black jeans and black and white colored Sketchers. The best I could do on short notice.


Three person clean-up crew, and I'm not talking about brooms, dust mopes or cleaning up piss. More like bloodstains, dead bodies and fingerprints. In a way we are janitors. Most expensive type of janitors and goddamn good at it. But still I was nervous. Just a small time team trying to get in big leagues and this is the biggest. Some say give me the fortune and fuck the fame, but it's the other way around. To get fortune we first need fame. When word gets out who we work for, they'll be job offers left and right.


"Shit here she comes...and she is hot." Andre pointed out.


"Good afternoon everyone. As you have guessed, I am Diana Burnwood. I see you have arrived early, which is good. On the field you will need to be on time however."


"Yes, of course Ms.Burnwood. I can always be punctual." Andre said.


He stood up in front of her, handing his rose. Maverick and I waited to see can of worms he just opened for himself. But to our shock she accepted it and smiled. I thought he'd lost points, but maybe it's same as bringing apple for schoolteacher. Then he extended his hand, no doubt hoping to kiss hers. The look on her face was enough of a hint to quit while ahead, and he sat back down, turning his chair to face her. She sat down at table behind Andre. The waiter appeared and placed a tea cup on her table then left. As if he already knew she was coming and what she drank.


"I'm always on the lookout for experienced contractors. You come highly recommend by way of Margaux Leblanc, says you've done a rather fine job cleaning up the...mess in the bookstore that was in the news."


"Thank you Ms.Burnwood." I said.


"Thank your clients. I have yet to see your work."


"That means we have job?"


"We'll see. First the ground rules: As you know we work internationally. When our agents are on the field you will be shipped out to the same city. You will be notified if your assistance is required or not, in which case you may return home. Now I have a question - Can you handle solo assignments?"


"We prefer to work as team Ms.Burnwood. A packaged deal." I replied.


"I understand, and that is acceptable. Now Delio Gavanski. It is to my knowledge you have issues concerning a gambling problem."


"Uh, yes but..."


"Be certain your personal and professional lives never cross, Mr.Gavanski."


"Yes ma'am."


"Maverick Wei. I don't see many women in this line of work. I'm a bit curious to hear from you."


Mav bowed her head and showed a small smile. I already knew what was coming and ready to intercept.


"She doesn't speak English I'm afraid."


"I get the impression she doesn't speak much at all. No matter, social skills aren't required. I won't pry, as long as the past remains where it is."


Mav bowed again.


"Andre Neskoromny. You have a solid track record. You wish to work for me?"


"Absolutely." He replied in his "sexy" voice.


"Then I recommend you not make passes at your employer. If we should meet again, wear something less casual."


"Umm yeah! Understood Ms.Burnwood."



I had to cover my mouth to swallow laughter. Mav shook her head. Burnwood finished her cup and got up. Time to make the pitch.



"I'll be in contact."


"Wait Ms.burnwood. Something else we want to ask...would it be possible to clean up for agent 47?"



That made her pause and stare at us.


"No. It will not be possible. He's had poor experience with cleaners in the past and has opted to do it himself."


"We are best at what we do ma'am. If he can see us in action he won't be disappointed."


"You want recognition. To be the first clean-up crew in years to ever work for the notorious agent 47."


She read me as a open book. I didn't know what to say next.



"Your ambition is not the issue Mr.Gavanski. Agent 47 does not require your service. If that is all then I must be on my way."


"Wait! We're willing to pay $70,000. For a chance to show our skills."



My team stared at me wondering what the hell I was doing. We agreed we wanted this but trying to bride Burnwood was never brought up, especially with most of our lifesavings. But our chances were going downhill and the way I see it, couldn't hurt to try right?



"No thank you Mr.Gavanski. Next time be sure Ms. Wei and Mr.Neskoromny are on broad with your proposition."


"They are."



Andre rolled his eyes a let out a sigh. "Fine." He said annoying.


Mav put a hand across her forehead and rubbed it a few seconds. I showed her the most loving face I could muster, which probably looks like shit. Even I though think my face is ugly. She flipped me the bird while nodding to Burnwood."



"It's refreshing to see loyalty. Still the answer has not changed."


"$90,000."


"Never wager more than you can afford to lose Mr.Gavanski."


"Please run this by him. See what he says."



"He may simply take your money, leaving you high and dry. The three of you are certain you wish to risk this?"


"100%"


"Very well. I'll explain your offer to him."


"Yes! Yes! Thank you!"


"I don't see the reason to get excited Mr.Gavanski. I think your throwing away your team's money. Possibly their lives as well."



"Hold on a second, what do you mean our lives?" Andre asked.


Just then her cellphone started ringing. She answered it and told the caller she was wrapping a meeting and call back in a few minutes before hanging up.



"That's all the time I have for today."


"What about what you just said?" Andre asked.


"Save your questions for another time Mr.Neskoromny. It was a pleasure meeting you all. Goodbye now."







_________________________________________







"I apologize for the delay 47. Didn't expect to hear from you so soon. Is there a change in the plan?"


"The plans obsolete and the objective is completed." I replied.


"I'm surprise to hear this 47. I thought we scheduled for Thursday."


"I was doing recon when a group decided to try and rob the place."


"Oh my. How did you handle it?"


"Made the most of the situation. Farentino's been eliminated and the watch was been retrieved. And the surveillance tape."


"Witness?"


"No. Their all face down the entire time."


"So we're done."


"Unfortunately not."


"I was afraid you'd say that. What wrong?"


"Noticed a lack of commitment from security and questioned them about it. They were all paying Poker at the time. One mentioned the name Gabriel Aquila."


"That's the client."



There used to be a time when I accepted contracts without caring to know the client's history, beyond the obvious. As time has passed however, the business has become more cutthroat. Now I leave no facts unturned. I knew where to find Gabriel Aquila.



"I'll pay him a visit after I'm done with security." I told Diana.


"Actually I'd want to talk with him myself if you don't mind."


"Understood. Anything else?"


"There is one other thing I'd like to bring to your attention. A trio cleaning group has requested an audience with you."


"I handle my own cleaning Diana."


"They're paying $90,000."


"Sounds like they impressed you, otherwise you'd send them home."


"They have a strong track record. There is potential. You need someone to cover for you when you can't."


"I make time."


"47 I know things haven't worked with the last one in London..."


"He was too much of an idiot to realize which side of the street to drive on."


"I can't tell you they are without flaws, but I'm certain that unfortunate incident will fail to repeat itself."


"I know it won't."


"I don't doubt you 47, but even you have to admit that part of the job can sometimes become tedious.


My preference is to avoid dealing with outsiders altogether. Still as the years pass on and the world presents new challenges, it's become evident the key to survival is forming alliances, making "Friends". That's also what gets you killed, but there's no alternative. And Diana is right. Never the less I wasn't ready to trust them.


"Send me their files and I'll think about it."


"That's all I can ask 47." She replied sweetly.



Even on the phone I can see the smile spreading across her face.

Edited by Nazareth, 31 August 2012 - 08:25 AM.

[Cerb]

Finally got to set aside some time to read the latest bits. Though the grammar and spelling could still use a little work, the story, characterization and humor's all on the level. Felt like a Tarantino take on Hitman, actually, and if I'm not mistaken about the bank manager's name, I guess that was the main influence, right? Anyway, you had me interested enough to keep my mouse on the scroller the entire time. Hope you keep updating, bro. This is some good stuff.

[Nazareth]

Sorry about the errors. I need to work more on my typing, but I'll try to improve. Thanks for the feedback man. Your the second person to say that. To be honest, when I was writing this I didn't see the connection with Tarantino until my brother read it and pointed it out. I didn't think it was that good, but it was his idea to put the name in. Now hearing it from you, I'm shitting bricks! Thought I was wasting time with this, but you gave me some gas for the fire. Don't know if I'll finish, but I will keep posting. Thanks again.

[Nazareth]

(5) Exceptions to the Rule








The Red Ford just parked in a driveway in a suburb. The target and his family stepped out, crowding together as they walked into their home. The man I'm here for is named Chester Snowden, from the ID he left behind in basement along with three corpses. The causes of death are...rare. The ring leader had his throat ripped out. There was an excessive amount of vomit and blood on the floor by the other two. One choked to death on it and the last died from a severe loss of protein. There was a fourth man in the group but he's missing. This was more than enough to warrant caution. The contract is two million alive and one for dead.



I'm a little surprised Marquez didn't turn to my "brother" 47, but at the same time I didn't care. Because he seemed too often be the first choice for many contracts, it is necessary I remain anonymous to clients. Whatever her reasons are irrelevant. My goal is to capture the target. I estimated the best time to do so is when he is having dinner with his love ones. Tie them up and gag them and so long as they are unharmed he should come quietly. Easier to walk him out then carry him. Less suspicious for any wondering eyes. It was strange: I would have thought he'd try to flee, yet here he was about to enjoy a meal.


Perhaps he believed to be in the clear. I store away my Cheytac M-310 Sniper in the trunk and arm myself with a CMMG 7.3/M7 and a Kel-Tec PMR-30. Both weapons can be concealed in my jacket. The curtains are open so I can see them all sitting at the dinner table. I walk up and ring the bell. I'm hoping the husband would answer, instead it's the wife. There's a fearful expression on her face. I show her my Kel-Tac and ask her to invite me in. With a hand on her shoulder I walk behind Mrs.Snowden as she leads me into the living room. The children, a boy and girl who look between the ages of 9 and 15, were sitting at the end closest to me while the target sat at the head.



The children had tears running down their cheeks, but I've only just arrived. Why are they.........It's not me they're frighten of.



"Only one?" Chester said. "You must be some-"



I fired at him over Mrs.Snowden's shoulder while he was speaking. He seemed ready for it and ducked under the table. As I aimed I saw the kids drop two grenades that they happen to be holding under the table. Still using Mrs.Snowden as a shield, I back away as quickly as possible. Not fast enough to escape the explosion.




Eyes full of blood, ears ringing. I take a minute to suppress the shock, then push the person on top of me aside, wipe my eyes and stand up. Mrs.Snowden protected me from most of the blast, but still caught some shrapnel in my left side. Couldn't take the time to address the wound. The Kel-Tac was lost, so I pulled out the CMMG and went hunting for the target. I'm bleeding and have a concussion, not to mention short on time, someone had to have called the police, so I tried to move fast. That was my next mistake. The target charged me from the right and forced me against a wall. Underneath the torn pieces of his Xmas sweater, I could see he was wearing a Flak Jacket.



I gripped the gun tightly as I knew that would be the first thing he'd go for, and he did. Instead of trying to wrestle it out of my hand, he grabbed hold of the clip and snatched it out in a single motion. I head butted him which knocked him off balance, then shove him away. Chester is still on his feet and too close to make use of the remaining bullet. I go on the offensive, hitting him across the head with the butt of the CMMG. Another blow to the stomach then finishing off the combo with an uppercut that knocks him down. Targeting his forehead I fire the last shot. He hugged his head with both arms, soaking the shot, seemly moving just as I pulled the trigger.



He sweeps out my legs dropping me to the ground. I don't waste time getting up and dropping the gun in the process, knowing I won't get the chance to reload. Chester already beat me back up and tries to tackle me, but I stay on my feet. Still I'm forced through a pair of glass doors then stop against a counter. Operating on instinct, I slam an elbow on his back, followed by a knee strike that knocks him upward, then two quick secession punches sending him to the floor. As he recovers I look for anything that can be used as a weapon, coming across a kitchen knife in the sink. He's up again trying to acquire one of his own but I don't give him the chance. Lunging forward I manage to slice his throat, but he just barely avoided it.



The cut wasn't deep enough to be fatal so I keep charging. He's fast, able to evade my attacks. Keep going for his neck or midsection and still missing, but I'm using the momentum to force him in a corner. Now I have him against the counter. Moving for his throat again, he dodges it, but my strike was a ruse that I redirect and nailed down his right hand and he yells for a brief moment. I throw a quick elbow slam to the nose to try and stun him, then move to his left side and prepare to break his arm. Before I could do so however, Chester somehow forced his bladed hand free and before I knew what was happening, he span around and slammed it in my lower back.



I grunted in pain, and then hit him again with my left elbow. He drops to one knee. Using his open palm with the blade stuck in it, he stabs me again in the back of my left thigh, forcing me down on one leg. He got up and tried punching me with the bladed hand but I block it, ripped the knife out and plunge it into his stomach. Only got it in an inch before he stops me. We struggle with it with poor results. I've lost a lot of blood and getting weaker. Chester pulls it from my hands and places me in a sleeper hold. I fight as long as I can before blacking out.






Am I dead? Or dying? I open my eyes and the world is a blur. I'm in a seated position and try to move but can't. Something's restraining me. Unable to make out what yet. Strangely enough I feel relaxed. And very sluggish.


"640509-040117."


Everything was so distorted it seems like the voice was coming from everywhere.


"You lost a great deal of blood but you'll survive. Only the strong do."


Slowly my vision starts to clear. The target Chester was sitting in front of me. Other than a black pair of pants with no socks or shoes, he had on only wraps and bandages. Mainly his hand, forearms, and across his torso. His face was still bruised which told me I haven't been here long. Can't tell where here is yet. Only seeing triple. From what I can make out I'm chained to a Love Seat which is chained to a radiator. My left arm is connected to an IV.



"Morphine. Help you get comfortable and to keep you from thinking straight."


It was working well. Trying to focus became a serious challenge. It took a lot of energy checking my surroundings. There was a fireplace behind where he was sitting. A few feet to the left was a twirling staircase, further left was a kitchen. To the right is a dark red Futon. In front of it was a television, and to the far right was a door. The floor was covered with white fur carpet. There are some small splatters of blood on it. He's either careless or doesn't live here. He simply sat there and waited until I was done and returned my gaze on him.



"Wondering why you’re still alive?"


I stay quiet and let him do all the talking.



"It's my own fault. Told myself I would kill everyone who showed up at the Snowden's residence. I was expecting she'd send a small army, but you’re far better. Something special. I saw you and got greedy, breaking the rules."


Despite his current advantage, I didn't even detect the slightest hint of arrogance. In fact he seemed...respectful. Chester takes out the photo I had of him and his "family".


"Took a little incentive to make them look happy in this picture. Removed Mr.Snowden and took his place. Had a few weeks to warm my way into their hearts.


He left the wallet on purpose, knowing someone would track it. Used the Snowden family as bait. A bizarre but effective tactic. There's more to this man then I thought. He gets up and goes to the refrigerator, gets a bottle of something and comes back. It seemed as though he was going to try an interrogation tactic to make me speak. Instead he only took a sip before placing the cap back on.



"While I am curious about the significance of 640509-040117, it can wait. Got a date coming up with Ms. Marquez. We'll continue this conversation in due time. Meanwhile get some rest."


He increased the morphine dosage enough to make it impossible to keep my eyes open.






_______________________________________________








Finesses. That's the only word I could use to describe how this chick looks. Not sexy, not hot, not beautiful or gorgeous. She was FINESSE incarnate. Normally I like my girls to be slutty but one look at her when she got off the elevator made me want to change my habits. It was my job to frisk her, had to make sure she didn't have a gun. Took my time going over her lady limbs. I expected her to try and slap me afterwards, but she just smiled and even winked at me. That caught me off guard. Maybe I'll get her number after the meetings over. I walk her into the office where she takes a seat in front of the boss’s desk. I stand by the door with my co-workers. I'm Clive by the way, but we'll talk more about me later, want to hear what my boss and the lady have to discuss.




"Welcome to my hotel Ms.Burnwood. Is there anything we can get you?"


"No thank you Mr. Aquila. I'm here to ask a few questions regarding our most recent business arrangement."


"It's finished with. What more do you want to know?"


"An attempted robbery took place. Do you know anything about this?"


"I read about that in the paper. I'm glad it didn't hinder the contract in anyway. But what does this matter now Ms.Burnwood? What's done is done."


"My agent was present at the time. He and I wish to avoid this issue again in the future."


"You’re suggesting I'm withholding information or...had a hand in this Ms.burnwood? We've done good business together in the past. Why would I do anything to jeopardize that?"


"I'm not accusing you Mr. Aquila. Only asking if you know something I don't on the matter. Rather you do or not will have no impact on our working relationship."


"I'm glad to hear that. I wish there was more to offer you."


"Very well. Thank you for your time."


She gets up and turns to leave.


"Wait, that's the end of it?"


"I appreciate your cooperation."


"In that case, couldn't we have spoken over the phone?"


"It's best to ask this type of question in person. A man of your experience understands I'm sure."


"I do. However..."


"We look forward to repeat business in the future Mr. Aquila. I hope that puts your concerns to rest. Have a pleasant day."


And just like that she's out the door and down the elevator.


"You okay boss?" I asked.


"I want everyone working double shifts for the next few days."


"Got it. Think she's gonna be a problem?"


"Burnwood's hard to read. Get the car ready, we're going to the safe house."


I get on my cell and make the call downstairs for the car. Then we all head into the elevator. I'm thinking about the feel of that chick's figure. If only you could have seen her face-


"The hell?" One of my co-workers said.



Before I even had to ask I felt it: The elevator suddenly speeded up! Next thing I know I'm on the fucking ceiling! I looked at the floors we were passing going down. 17,16,15,14,13,12,11,10,9...then we started to slow down. I hit the floor face first. it was even more painful when people landed on top of me.


"Ahhhhhhh! Christ.....fuck!"


We laid there for a good five minutes before trying to get up. One man stayed down. Checking on him I see he's still breathing. We stopped on the first floor. Tried getting out, only finding that the door's stuck.


"I put too much money in this building for shit like this to happen! Call maintence now!


I grab the elevator's emergency phone and dial but can't hear anything on the other line.


"It's dead sir. I'll try-"


"Is everyone all right?" An overhead voice asked.


"Burnwood?" What is this?" My boss replied.


"I'm afraid our conversation is not yet concluded Mr. Aquila. During the investigation of the robbery, your name was mentioned. Could you fill in the gaps for me?"


"Call the police, the fire department or whoever the hell can get us out Clive!"


"You should be aware by now they can't help you Mr. Aquila."


As if on cue the elevator started going up.


"Already told you what I know! What else do you want me to say? Are you fucking hearing me Burnwood!?"


She kept quiet until we reached the top floor.


"Ready for another ride?"


"Oh SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT”


Back to the ceiling again followed by the floor. Cracked my head and spit out some teeth. Didn't bother to get up this time. Once again were riding to the top.


"Fuck alright! I'll tell you! It was Serge Kayaru! That Freedom Fighter guy on the news!"


"Serge?"


At last the joy ride came to an end. The way she said his name I got the feeling she knew him. Personally I mean.


"Yes. He asked me to hire you and set up the robbery. I owned him a favor so I did it. I don't know why he wanted it that way."


"Thank you Mr. Aquila. I have one other request before you’re free to leave. The gentlemen who frisked me? I would like you to retire him. Indefinitely."


"Fuck that!" I shouted, trying to stand up. Pulled out my Canik 55. I knew my boss well enough that he would save his own skin over his guards any day.


"Keep away! Anybody touches me and-"


I felt the joy ride moving again. I shouldn't have looked up. That's when I felt the bullets rip through me. "Sorry Clive." That was the last thing I heard. Fuck 'em. Fuck you too if your cheering for that bitch.

Edited by Nazareth, 31 August 2012 - 08:48 AM.

[Cerb]

Taking a more Patterson-esque turn, I see. Not bad at all, I liked it. That bit with the elevator caught me totally off guard.

[Nazareth]

I'm rotating a bit with presention ideas and thought this would be the most effective for this scene. Can't tell you how many ideas I went through before coming up with the elevator thing, but I'm glad it worked. Now waiting for a free day to post the next bit. Well that and Mortal Kombat.

[Nazareth]

(6) Assassination 101







"Can I assume everything is in place for tonight or is that also too much a task as well?"


"No ma'am, we're good to go."


"Well at least you can organize properly."


"Ma'am I told you, we're doing everything we can to find the son of a bi-"


"You've already been warned that I don't approve of foul language."


"Sorry."


"I have no use for apologies. Put more thought into your chose of words."


"Yes ma'am. So far we haven't turned up anything new on this Chester character yet but-"


"Because you and that other hitman failed, I'm forced to turn to Mr.47. If he can do your job, there's not much use for you is there?"


I decided to wait instead of responding.


"If you wish to redeem yourself, you'll find a way to deal with 47 after he takes out Chester. Am I in anyway unclear?"


"No ma'am."


"So it'll be finished in a month."


"Uhhh…Well..."


"Your dismissed."



Rita Marquez has been on a short fuse lately over Chester Snowden. There doesn't seem to be much history between them. Don't know how things escalated. To my knowledge he tried to steal her purse in a shopping mall but was caught. She had some of her men "work him over". To say they were worked over in turn would be an understatement. She couldn't find him and was frustrated to the point where I was hired. Marquez must be desperate because she hated me. Sometime ago one of my clone brothers assassinated her daughter and framed me. I'd rather have an enemy then a client who knows the truth.



Been in the business too long to take threats personally. Eliminating Marquez wouldn't be a issue should the need arise. She is of course unaware of my presence or the listening devices placed throughout her mansion. Otherwise I won't have the task to kill myself after the assignment is completed. Unfortunately, Diana's search for this Chester Snowden has met limited success. We only know about the three corpses working for Marquez, no matches on blood. Then an incident that occurred at the Snowden's household, which was burned to the ground. The bodies of the family were found except for Mr.Snowden.


He's not on the radar and based on the type of destruction he left in his wake, I didn't think he was another crime lord or hitman. One million dead, two alive. Extra money's nice, but I'm not greedy. Dead is acceptable. With no other leads to follow, Diana and I decided to keep an eye on Marquez. After seeing what had happen to her men, it seems like a good chance he'll be causing more problems for her in the near future. She's been planning a party for a close friend for the past week. It's usually around this time a security team is more relaxed, making it an ideal opportunity for a surprise entrance. That's what I would do. Infiltrating her mansion and using a disguise as a guard was easy enough.


Aside from planning my own murder, I was part of the group helping put the party together. This gave me the maneuverability to inspect everything coming in. Making sure no explosives, weapons, poisons or traps were hidden anywhere. The loud speakers had amplifiers built in recently but that's the only thing I uncovered so far. Her mansion is located on a hill with a beautiful view overlooking the ocean in a isolated location, meaning there's two ways in and out.


The guests don’t arrive until an hour later and it's not long before the strippers perform and take center stage. Now it's all flashing lights, drinks, laughs and giving away money. I believe the term is called "Making it rain on them." Strippers or prostitutes are valuable distractions for times like these. Make efficient assassins as well. Sometimes they're overconfident when using sex as a weapon. Four have attempted the approach on me. I was patrolling the area for about five hours before I grew tired of all the noise and retreated to my sniper's perch that was setup a hundred and seven feet away. From here I can still watch the place and listen in with my earpiece.


Stakeouts are the part of the job I truly loathe. Spending days on end trying to stay alert always drains me, and I've been here a week already. The party's going on for hours but still no sigh of the target. My phone starts to ring and I'm hoping Diana has good news to speed things up.



"How are you holding up 47?"


"The sooner I'm done the better. Anything new?"


"Negative. Just making sure you don't fall asleep at work, as you sometimes do."


She enjoys being a smartass sometimes. Trying to push my buttons.


"I don't suppose you have anything productive to add."


"Didn't want the target to show up while you’re daydreaming about it. Good enough?"


"Assuming he comes at all. What's the status on this Serge Kayaru?"


"He and I have a bit of history. It's complicated. I intend to uncover his reasons for the Diamondback bank assignment in person. Aside from that he's had a successful career disrupting sexual slavery rings."


"Too risky a business."


"What is?"


"Kidnapping random people. The traps are set up fairly well but they rarely do background checks on the intended target. Could be a undercover agent, or the love ones of someone powerful."


"I see. Considering a new career path?"


"First-hand experience. What else can you tell me?"


"He owns a number of orphanages which has found a lot of children homes. Serge often operates in Uganda and employs an all-female security force."


"Hmm, sounds like infiltration's not an option. Has to be done from a distance."


"47 you agreed to allow me to handle this."


"Just analyzing likely scenarios. When?"


"I fly out in a week."


"Be cautious."


"Aren't I always?"


"I'll talk to you later."







10:00 am. The party ended an hour ago. All the guests were asleep as was Marquez. For a 70 year old, she party’s quite hard. I position myself near the front doors along with another guard named Tommy. He's walking back and forth outside. I try to stay clear of windows as much as possible in case of a sniper attack. We notice a truck approaching, looks like a mailman. This might be the guy I'm waiting for. Due to the layout of the road, he parks the truck in a way that blocks a sniper's view of the front. Still I stay low and step out with my weapon drawn.


"Hands. Show me your hands!"


"What the hell are you doing?" Tommy asked.


"Get him out the truck and check the back."


"It's just the postman."


"I said pull him out and check the back, do it now."


He frowns at me for a few seconds before complying. The driver is terrified. When he's out I turn him around and pat him down while Tommy inspects the pull up door. He's in clear view of a shooter which is why I sent him. His ID says Lawrence Davidson. The pockets reveal a 16oz bag of marijuana, some gum and a switchblade.


"Holy shit; with all this paper I think he's gonna mass murder us with the written word." Tommy joked.


Unsatisfied that he wasn't Chester, I holster my gun.


"Sorry, false alarm. Carry on."


I give him two hundred dollars; he drops off the paper and drives off. Probably won't be returning anytime soon.


"You worried the fucking postman was about to go postal?"


"I'm a little stoned off a line I sniffed."


"No wonder. You should take a break."


"Maybe you’re right. What's it say in the paper?"


"Weirdest shit man. Talks about these high school kids trying to find new ways to get high by strangling themselves, like some screwed up game. Some of them even say they can actually cum from doing that shit. Can you believe it? All they need is a little bit of love and drugs from their parents."


I've heard about this before. No idea if it's true but it makes me think of the many people I strangled to death. In their last moments, did some of them experience some sort of ecstasy? Or sexual climax? The horrified expression on the faces suggest otherwise. Mankind is growing increasingly dysfunctional.






Two more days pass by before I ran out of patience. I followed Marquez on all her errands and business deals then back to the mansion, still nothing to show for it. I tell Diana I'm finished with the stakeout. We'll have to track him down by other means. If nothing turns up in a month, I'll cancel the contract and refund half the money. While it is possible to stiff her on the assignment, that's not how I do business, even if she felt otherwise. Although she wants me dead, I'm fine accepting a job because I know what to expect. Marquez isn't the only disgruntled client. Now I drive toward the airport wearing my suit, taking a private jet to fly the W2000 and Silverballers of course. Suddenly an explosion sounds in my earpiece. The noise is followed by another, then gunshots. Lots of shouting in between what sounded like a war.



"The fuck is going on!?"


"How the hell should I know!"


"We're under attack you fucking idiots! Son of a bitch is shooting us with a goddamn bazooka!"


(Gunshot) "Ahhh!"


"No profanity in this house ever! Gather the rest of the boys and deal with the problem."


"Yes ma'am!"



How convenient this happens now. I turn the car around and head back to Marquez. Not because I'm concerned for her well-being, but I always see my contracts through and maintain my reputation. Take about eight minutes to return, meanwhile the siege raged on.


"Rita! A pleasure to meet you again." Never heard this voice before. Has to be the target.


"Who in god's name do you think you are coming here and destroying my home!"


"Been looking forward to this. I'm sure you couldn't wait to see me too."


"Your right. Take his legs out from under him."


More screaming and shooting. From the sound of things the home team was losing.


"Get the fuck out of my house!"


"Strange, I thought you didn't approve of swearing."


"Fuck you, you little shit!"


"I would take you back to my place for a candle light dinner, but the setting here will do fine."


"What the hell are you doing?! Get away from me you sick fuck.......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"



I'm in sight of the mansion...or what's left of it. Big chucks of it were gone. Looks as if the place took repeated blows from a RPG, allowing anyone to see straight through it. No fire but a lot of smoke. Other than Marquez's cars, I didn't see extra vehicles in the area. He parked miles back and walked the rest of the way or come by boat. I'd love to set up at my sniper's perch, but if he did come by boat then all the smoke blocked my view. A 50/50 gamble I didn't want to take. My Sliverballers were ready as I entered.



Given the circumstance I wish I had brought heavier artillery. Then again there's little information about this man, other than just learning he doesn’t seem to care about direct confrontation. Bodies everywhere. Still I have to take it slow and cautious. Some may be alive and express hostility. Marquez is screaming bloody murder upstairs. I go to her bedroom and.......What I see actually makes me pause in disgust, and I thought I've seen everything in my lifetime.


She was tied to the bedrails with the sheets, halfway naked. The target who had on a light yellow dress shirt and bow tie that was blood all over it, with brown slacks and Snakeskin boots, had his head between her legs, eating her clitoris. Literally. She wasn't screaming anymore, only gasping for air while her eyes were rolled in the back of her head. He sensed my presence and snapped his head in my direction, tarring out a piece of her insides with his teeth.



"You’re free?"



Don't know what he's referring to. I start shooting. He gets hit in the chest and torso which knocks him over the side of the bed. I begin moving forward then hearing the cocking of a shotgun, dart back out behind the wall to the left, just escaping the blast. He's wearing Kevlar under his shirt so it has to be a headshot. Have to make this quick. The wall was already damaged from bullet holes and explosions earlier and only becoming worse with more gunfire, and he seems to know it. The gun soon goes dry and I return fire but it was a ruse. Soon as I start a Kriss Super V CRB/SO System begins going off.



Couldn't see it but I know most weapons by the sound they make. I was forced to move alongside the wall staying low, shrapnel scratching the top of my head. I stop at the next door. The shots seem to follow me. Marquez didn't have a door from her bedroom leading into the bathroom, but perhaps the wall separating them was recently destroyed. He’s no longer shooting, that doesn't mean he's out of ammo however. Instead of discharging from the door, I use one of the bullet holes hoping to catch him by surprise. Right in the middle of it the loud speakers suddenly comes on, blaring so strong it hurts.



*We're no strangers to love. You know the rules and so do I. A full commitment's what I'm thinking of.*


It distracts me for a few seconds and he rushes me, through the wall with enough force to break the rail and crashing on top a glass table.


*Gotta make you understand. Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down. Never gonna run around and desert you. Never gonna make you cry. Never gonna say goodbye.*


Can barely hear myself think. Don't believe in luck, but that seems to be the only explanation as why there's no glass implied in me or my throat cut. I'm laying facedown trying to shake off the pain. Because of the music it took a moment to realize he's on top of me.



"640509-040147? Getting more and more curious."



He puts me in a sleeper hold and rolls us over. It won't be long before I pass out. I use my right arm to pull against his around my neck, and the left to feel around the ground. there's only broken glass so I make the most of it by stabbing his forearm then tarring upward toward his hand. This makes him release his grip to force my arm away. I lift my head up and slam it backwards on his face twice, then jump flip to my feet and drop forcefully backwards on top of him. I roll off and grab another shard and go for his throat, but he catches my arm.


I use all my weight pressing on him with progress. He reacts by yanking out the glass in his forearm and slices at my face. I narrowly avoided being blinded but that allowed him enough room to kick me away. If this keeps up much longer, I sure to go deaf.



*Your heart's been arching. But you're too shy to say it. Inside we both know what's been going on. We know the game and we're gonna play it. And if you ask me how I'm feeling. Don't tell me you're too blind to see. Never gonna give you up.*



Climbing to my feet I reach for the first gun in sight, a game of who's the fastest draw or so I thought. Rather than go for a weapon he rushed towards me with impressive speed. As I aimed he was at my side, grabbing my wrist then biting on my fingers! I'm trying to shake him off and punch him. He catches my fist and keeps biting down. I kick him off but lose my grip on the pistol in the process. I launch a roundhouse to his face making him do a 360, then a spin kick to the chest. He intercepts it, moves behinds me. I throw a back elbow but he ducks it, warping his arms around my waist, then lifts me for a backwards body slam.


I don't take the time to appreciate the newfound pain as I scramble up, but I'm met by a dropkick to my chest, sending me flipping behind a couch. Not so quick to ignore that blow.



*Give you up, give you up, Never gonna give, Never gonna give, give you up, Never gonna give, Never gonna give, give you up.*


Needed a weapon to end this and shut off that damn music that's still blaring. Chester must have on earplugs. He jumps on top of me and started throwing a series of punches to my head, trying to knock me unconscious. I shove a hand into his left armpit, pressing in with my thumb to limit movement. When he slaps my hand away I strike his neck and stun him. Then slide my hands under his thighs and lift him over off me. Mitchell's Escalade - a 12 gauge shotgun - was the closest thing to me by way of the now late Tommy.


Wasted no time picking it up and firing. Chester was moving through the kitchen trying to get behind the counter for cover but I shot him in the back before he makes it that far. It was enough power to send him through the windshield overlooking the ocean. Next I shot out the speakers. Shotgun's empty so I go pick up my ballers. I look out to verify the kill only to see nothing on the rocks below leading to the beach. No longer matters. Marquez is dying if not dead. It's possible he may have eaten out her appendix. This means the contract is now void, and I keep the money. I'll head to one of my safe houses and treat my wounds. Can't tell if Diana's is trying to call, my ears are still ringing, and bleeding. Have to type to her later. Might consider getting my hand checked for rabies.






_______________________________________________________










I awaken and watch my captor over the kitchen sink splashing water on his face, then brings out a needle and thread and begins sawing his arm. The black eye and bruises have been renewed as if he'd recently been in a fist fight. Once finished he brings a cup of water and offers it.



"It is said you should never take what your enemy gives freely. Wise words, but in this case what's the alternative?"


I haven't found a means of escape yet. He’s kept me sedated the majority of my time here, and it's been long enough to know I needed some kind of substance. i decided to take a sip. If it was something hazardous he could easily force me to drink it, but I don't think he wants to kill me. At least not yet. The microwave goes ding and he walks over and gets a plate of food and offers to feed me. We eat from the same dish. I found it unsettling he doesn't care about sharing the same fork.


"Who are you?" I asked.


"I honestly haven't taken the time to choose an identity. I guess you can call me Chester for now. That's who I've been this past month anyway."


"What is it you want exactly, Chester?"


He brings a chair in front of me and leans behind it.


"Just meet your identical twin at Rita's earlier. An Mr.640509-040147. Nearly got the drop on me. If I haven't rigged the queen's loud speakers he probably would have."


"I take it you seek retribution."


"Not at all. Never met the man before in my life. It's not personal...well it is but not in the sense your thinking. I'll just say you, him and Rita have my interest for the same reason."


"For your amusement."


"....Sort of."


"I don't know where to find him."


"Then perhaps you can share everything you do know. Past and present. I'll brainstorm from there."


"And if I refuse? You'll starve me to death?"


"We'll still share meals. Already ate half your kidney together and that didn't taste half bad, did it?"


"What..."


"Didn't notice it was missing with all the narcotics in your system. Hmm. Reminds me of a time I was strapped up as somebody's bitch for a week, forget their names. Only thing they fed me was semen. Nothing torturous about it, just plain gross."


Terror tactics. Or psychological warfare, which ever you wish to label it. I expected he'd do something sooner or later. I'll admit however, his approach has...caught me off guard. Anger would have been my reaction but the drugs kept me in a relaxed state.


"Sometimes I'd say something methodical about it but that'll be an insult in your case. I don't want to feed you some line about letting you, so let's get to the point: Tell me what I want to know and if I get him, I'll tell you why your here and reward you with a quicker death. What do you say?"


Burn in hell. That's what I was ready to say but didn't. Doubtful he let me loose to aid him. Based on what I know of Chester I had a sense of where he wanted to go with all this, and if that's true there's a chance to turn the tables. And perhaps eliminate 47 in the process.







Urgh! This was a pain in the ass. Almost hate this scene. Gonna try and demand a pay raise for the next part.

Edited by Nazareth, 31 August 2012 - 09:11 AM.

[Cerb]

That was a particularly fucked up chapter, actually. ...Considering the themes Hitman's been using since Contracts, it's actually surprisingly fitting. Good read, though.

[Nazareth]

Thanks again Cerberus. I might be going off the deep end with this, puting in that Rick & Roll song as the backdrop for the blood and gore, but the shit made me laugh. Still I hate doing action parts. Sorry for no update. I was going to post something this week, but with all the Hitman 5 stuff and talk of changes going on, I wonder if I should wait and see if I need to transfer this to another site. Ah well. At least I got time to write the rest of this.

[7H3R0F1C0P73R]

Somehow I have made a post. This wasn't what I wanted at all.

Edited by 7H3R0F1C0P73R, 15 May 2011 - 12:42 AM.

[Cerb]

Surely that's because you're drunk and/or drinking?

[7H3R0F1C0P73R]

I was having a look at the rich text editor, cause I'm working on a story. It doesn't appear to be working

Then I derped and managed to post somehow. Sorry everyone.

[Cerb]

Using Firefox?



EDIT: Probably a good idea to ask in AF, too. Amp did say he turned some things off. If it's not browser specific, we'll just have to reformat things pre-post. Makes CC more difficult, but meh, we're a minority. What's to expect, right?

Edited by Black Cerberus, 15 May 2011 - 05:51 PM.

[7H3R0F1C0P73R]

Tried Chrome, now rich text doesn't even seem to be an option. Meh. Formatting with BB Code isn't that much work anyway.

[Sclera]

yeah the rich text editor is bullshit, it doesn't even work.

[Cerb]

It's not going to in Chrome, really. In FF, I had no problem with it. Can't say recently, though because I have yet to test it.

Edited by Black Cerberus, 15 May 2011 - 07:03 PM.