Notes A complete con I suppose, but it was definitely worth it to see the look on his face the moment he realized what was about to happen. Another dropoff sidetrack, and it wasn’t the best time to get booked. So here’s what happened. I’m driving to a little restaurant on the outskirts of the city when I see red and blue flashing in my mirror. Thinking quickly I thought of something that could probably get my name a little more respected in the ring. The cop walks up to the car, slow and slack looking. I put on a serious face and already have the I.D. and registration in my hand. Leaning over he peers in under reflective sunglasses. I nod and he grabs the papers out of my hand. “So what happened at that light back there,” Pausing to read my I.D. “Mr. Anitai?”

“What light sir? I hadn’t noticed.” “Don’t play dumb with my buddy, c’mon, you know what I’m fuckin talking about so why don’t you just tell me? Huh?” He took of his sunglasses, “What happened at that light?” I couldn’t remember running any, but I figured any excuse would do. “Honestly sir, I’ve got a lot of shit on my mind right now and I must have been somewhere completely else when I went through.” “Is that so? Well, okay, whatever. Pay attention or you’re gonna get someone killed. Consider this your last warning. He said as he tossed my license and registration onto the dashboard.

That would have been perfect if I didn’t feel like doing something stupid. I opened the door and got out. “Sir, could I have a quick word with you?” The cop stopped and turned around; he lowered his right hand from his sunglasses in his left breast pocket to his sidearm. “You should stay in you’re car sir.” “Look, sorry to bug you about this, but I can’t let you do that, walk away with no questions asked. I could be his on perks or something.” “Excuse me?” He looked confused. It was just another lazy cop that tries to come off like a toughass but can only pull it off for a sentence or so. “The defense of this city is of vital importance to me and the way it’s being imposed is atrocious. I’m gonna have to ask you to search me, for the sake of us all.” The cop put the flap back over the pistol grip and sort of laughed. Maybe he hadn’t had an unusual experience lately. “Alright buddy, if you think that’ll help.” He patted me down half-assed and said, “You’re clean, happy?”

“I’m also going to have to request that you search the car. I could have stashed something.” “Did you?” “It’s you’re job to find that out sir.” He looked displeased, but turned towards the car and proceeded to search, popped the trunk as he was looking under the driver’s seat, continued to search the back seats and went to the back of the car. I had casually walked up to the car as he searched and leaned against the rear bumper. “So what else am I not going to find?” He said turning his attention to the boxes in the trunk covered by some blue towels. “What’s in those?” He asked. “Stuff.” I responded.

“Listen buddy, I don’t have time for this shit. I’ll just write you a ticket for erratic driving , see you in court.” He went for his little notepad and started writing away. “The first two are ecstasy.” He looked up from his notepad. “The first two what are ecstasy?” “Boxes. The other three are pot.” He looked at the boxes, back at me, and then at the boxes again, trying to twist his sluggish mind around the situation. He went to reach for the box in the centre with his right arm. As he made contact with the box I grabbed the trunk door and slammed it down. The cop tried to get his arm out but I caught him at the elbow, which in turn brought his shoulder and face into the license plate and keyhole respectively.

He swung at me and grabbed me by the throat but I kept pressure on the door and reached for his gun. Unclipped the clasp, pulled it out and pointed it into his face. His grip tightened for a second then slowly released. “In the trunk.” “You’re making a very big mistake! You don’t get away with shit like this, not here.” “Well, you hope not anyways. Belt off, in the fuckin trunk.” I held the pistol closer to his face, right up to the bridge of his nose. I made sure he dropped his mace and radio and anything else that he could attack me with upon reopening the trunk about three days later back at home. The boxes were empty, maybe some old clothes in one, but I figured there was nothing potentially macguyverish back there.

- Another day another series of fucked up events, I was drunk, as per usual, and sloppily walking down the street, I had been enjoying myself to the full extent that I could possibly achieve, piss loaded and not having to interact with anyone. I saw three figures come around the corner the next block up, it was all blurry but it appeared to be three men, probably out on the town, probably doing the same thing as I was except with that whole excessive pointless ongoing conversation that never seems to benefit anyone, rather just a scheme to pass time quicker. As they got closer I noticed all three of them eyeing me.

“Got a cigarette?” The one in the middle asked. I abruptly stopped, murmured something about how I was running low but would still give him one and pulled out my pack. I handed him the smoked and tried to walk past. “How bout another?” The one on the left asked. “You guys can share.” I said and tried to push past. The on in the middle placed his palm on my check and pushed me back. “Nah, we can’t. Now give him a fuckin’ cigarette.” They sort of tried to surround me on three sides with my back facing a wall. “How bout you go fuck yourselves?” I almost shouted. I fucking hate bullshit tough guy confrontations. “What?! You wanna die tonight you piece of shit?” The guy on my right piped in. “I feel like I wanna die every night.” And the Oscar goes to… “Well, looks like your prayer may be answered.” He said while reaching into his back pocket. I didn’t wait to see what he was going to pull out. With my right hand I quickly reached towards the guy in the middle grabbing his face like you see basketball players palm a ball. His arms grasped onto mine. I pulled him forward and pushed the back of his head into the face of the guy on the right and then, as violently and with as much for as I could muster I swung him towards the guy on the left; the back of his head clipped the guys jaw and he stumbled back a few feet, I noticed a bit of blood on his face and realized the back of his head had come into contact with teeth. One tooth could be seen sort of stuck in the bloody mess that was this poor guys thirty dollar haircut.

- Why is it always when I’m most trashed do people feel it necessary to start shit? Another lonely Friday with lady liquor and the mistress Mary Jane. I had been wandering for a few hours relatively contact free, a few other drunks had asked me for a smoke or some spare change for the bus, but it was all harmless. I decided to roll my last joint of the night. I found a secluded park very small, two benches and a playscape consisting of two swings a teeter-totter, and a slide. I sat on the bench and began to break up my bud. Footsteps behind me caught me off guard, it sounded like whoever it was had just appeared about six feet away. “Yo, whatchu sayin man?” The approaching silhouette asked. “Just chillin out, yourself man?” “You got any smoke man? I need some real bad you know, I got the skin flakes man, need something to ease this pain man.”

“Sorry,” I said with a slight pause. “All I got is this little bit for myself.” I would have smoked him on it, but I don’t trust what hygienic measures this guy had taken upon himself, I really don’t need herpes just for trying to be nice. “You can’t even throw a little man?” “Sorry, can’t help you.” I said, now half expecting him to become hysterical, half expecting him to walk away. He chose the first option. “Man,” he said, starting to raise his voice, “this is fucking bullshit, all I need is a toke, and you’re the only one around man.” I stood up and faced the guy. “I don’t want any fucking trouble man, I can’t help you so just go find it somewhere else.” I waited for a response before turning around. “That’s it mother fucker!” He cried out. “If you isn’t gonna fucking hand it over, I’ll make you!”

He began to reach into his back pocket, I didn’t give him a chance to reveal what he had. With my left hand I quickly grabbed his Adam’s apple and squeezed. His eyes bulged slightly and his arm began flailing, I realized that he had pulled a gun from his pocket but hadn’t been able to wrap his mind around shooting after his air supply was cut off. Still holding tightly onto his throat I wound up with my right and with as much force as I could muster I proceeded to tenderize his face, working specifically on the top lip and nose; looking at his face I’m pretty sure I at least broke the fuckers nose, there was blood gushing from his lips, his tongue, his nose, and then I realized that he had also began to bleed from his eyes, which had rolled into the back of his head moments after his airway had been blocked.

I eased my grip from his neck and he just dropped, not like he wanted to hit the ground; the back of his head thudded onto the ground and he wasn’t moving. I figured I just knocked him unconscious. I spat on him and went home, when I woke up the image of blood leaking from his eye sockets was still fresh in my memory, I tried not to think about it but it remained ever present. I turned on the TV, it was about noon, watched anything remotely interesting and flicked onto the twenty four hour news station. Good timing. “A man was found beaten to death in a Bellamy Heights park this morning, police are asking if anyone has any information please call our Crimestoppers hotline below.” and then continued to talk about politics and such.

Shit. I thought, That bastard isn’t worth life in prison, I gotta do something about this. I casually walked towards the park, yeah, I know, returning to the scene of the crime, stupid idea, but I had to see if they had taken the body yet. As luck would have it they were loading the corpse into the back of an ambulance as I approached, I needed to get into that ambulance. The hospital that it was going to was a few miles away, I knew a quick route consisting mostly of alleyways. As soon as I was out of sight I ran my ass off to make it to the next block, as I approached the street I saw the ambulance pull into a parking lot of a strip mall, both the stupid bastards got out and went into a coffee shop, with the engine running.

I couldn’t have prayed for a better opportunity. I made sure no one was looking, walked up to the side of the ambylance and tried the handle, the door swung open, I hopped In and at first just started to ease the ambulance out of the parking lot. Looking in my rear view mirror I realized they had spotted me and tore out of the shop. I gunned it, turned on the sirens and listened to the dispatcher, hoping that that wouldn’t be able to report me until I got to the lake.

- A buzzer goes off, all the cops start yelling and the cell doors open up. Everyone steps out and turns to the right and down a set of stairs in the north east corner of the building. it leads to a corridor that leads down to the southern wall and opens up into the bottom level. everyone turned and took their trays from the nearby cart, and stood in line. 'Did you just take my spot?' A voice from behind me asks. I turn around and come face to face with a guy, about the same size as me, built like a brick house. I had some meat on me, but man, this guy was a good five feet around, and it didn't look like fat. 'Me?' 'I'm looking fuckin right at you, course I’m talking to you you fuck, now get the fuck outta my spot 'fore i shove this fuckin’ tray up you're fuckin ass.' 'Me?' I asked again, this time with a little smile. 'Fuck this shit mother fucker' The guy yells and swings his tray at my face, I duck and smash the edge of my tray on the inside of his right kneecap, his leg buckles a bit and i take the opportunity to bring the other edge of my tray directly into his genitals. He lets out a little gasp of air and just lets his right leg give out. I stand up and see the guards running at me, they tackle me and beat me a little, i didn't resist, so no pepper spray or cattle prods. I didn't think i was ready for it yet. So, my first trip to solitary and i didn't even get dinner. I needed some sleep anyways. I used my pants as a pillow, and tried to stay in the center of the room, the floor had a slight curve in it so all the piss would roll to the sides, but it's pretty fuckin obvious that there wasn't a spot in that little box that hadn't been soiled by some human extract. About forty-four hours later i got to experience the joy of prison showers, grimy floors and cold water, about forty showers in a room, and two doors on either side. There was a guard on duty at both sides, they just stood outside and looked in through a 12x12 glass window. I had a plan for what i was going to do to some of these dumb fucks that tried anything in there, but nothing came, but there will be other showers. It was dinner time again, this time i decided food would be good. I waited in line, no one said anything, received my first prison dinner, a slop that looked like stew if you squinted your eyes, mashed potatoes that were so bleach white they were almost see-through, and a spoonful of thick red sauce with a few strands of spaghetti in it.

- “There’s a sniper in the building? I don’t see hi..” A splash of brains and glass followed by a gurgled attempt at any type of last words. His body fell forward and smashed into the pavement. His glasses lay on the ground; the right lens bloody, but still in tact. From a thousand feet, on the top of a building located south one block from where I was standing, he managed to pinpoint this schmuck’s pupil. Funny, I thought, Maybe the guy deserved it, or maybe it’s just some psycho killer that’s out to get anyone in range. As I dropped the coffee I had just bought and turned to haul ass I heard another bullet whiz by. I stopped for some reason and turned to see what it had hit. I had to laugh and look in the general direction of the shooter when I saw my coffee cup had a hole through the logo, fucking dead centre. After the appreciative recognition I hopefully showed, I turned to once again haul ass, and I guess he let me go. I ran across the street to closest thing I could get ou to gth didn’t get far before I heard sirens, I don’t doubt this was going to be one of today’s top stories.  ¶ 21:28 0 comments

  The Stranger - II - A New Niche After his meal he decided to rest. Using the remains of the boy’s body as a comforter he slept in the dumpster. It was a surprisingly deep sleep; he slept through most of the day.

When he awoke it was dusk, people were starting their night, looking forward to drinking, partying and socializing. The few that were to come into contact with the stranger did not know at that point that they would never see their homes again; no one could even suspect that this night on the town would be their final destination.

A young couple that had started drinking earlier on in the day had stumbled into the alleyway as the stranger was waking up. They were looking for a secluded spot for a quickie before their night started. They kissed passionately against a wall a few feet from the dumpster. The man pulled down his girlfriends pants and turned her around. The quiet moans as they fucked emanated through the grungy alleyway, their occasional laughter echoed off the old walls, and the stranger, without having to see anything, knew he had his next target.

The apparent situation of having two vulnerable unsuspecting people in a relatively secluded place mustered and uncontrollable urge in the stranger. He crept out of the dumpster and proceeded toward the couple, who were solely concentrated on each other.

“You ready for this you little bitch? You want it in you don’t you?” The man said as he grabbed his girlfriend by her hips and began to thrust harder. “I’m gonna cum all over you you little slut.” He almost yelled. “You ready for it? Here it comes!” He said as he began to climax. Just as he did the stranger grabbed the man by the throat and collapsed his jugular.

The man began twitching, which did not disappoint the girl. “Oh Charlie, Fuck me harder! You’ve never felt like this before!” She cried, eyes closed facing the wall, her clenched fists and continuous moan kept her distracted as her boyfriend took his final breath. The stranger pulled the corpse away from the girl and held him up by the throat. “That was amazing Charlie, I’ve never felt you shake like that. You’re mine forev…” She stopped short as she looked back at her lover levitating inches from the ground. She followed the hand holding the back of his neck, and came into contact with gun metal grey eyes that were staring so intently right back into hers.

Before she could scream the stranger had his hand on her face and squeezed. His ring finger had so much pressure it perforated her left eye causing blood and innards to run down the side of her face. She scratched and clawed, ripping pieces of flesh from the stranger’s arm, but his grip held, he managed to cover her nose and mouth and pressed her against the wall. Her good eye wild with terror, looking down both sides of the alleyway with false hope that a passerby would stop and miraculously save her from imminent death.

A few minutes pass and he is still pressing her against the wall, she is now covered in blood from she wounds she had inflicted on the omni-powerful arm of the stranger, she still holds onto his arms but has ceased her attack. Her muffled cry sputtered from behind the stranger’s hand, mucus, tears and saliva dripped down her face and onto his hand. If there was anything the stranger felt remorseful for it was victims that cried and gave up. This wasn’t intended to invoke so many emotions, this was nothing personal, this was just the way it was, the way it always had been and the way it will be forever.

She eventually passed out; he released his grip and watched her hit the ground. He bent over, opened the girl’s mouth, reached down her throat and crushed her heart. There were several convulsions and then she was dead, blood streaming from her mouth, nose and eyes. A double kill was enough for a good few hours. The satisfaction of actually getting to feel a beating heart and crushing it between his fingers was the biggest boost the stranger had ever felt. Cutting life off at the source had become his new kick.

By midnight the cravings had come back, but more than ever, the girl’s blood was still under his fingernails, he could still smell her fear. He licked his fingers and tasted the blood; it became immediately apparent he needed another kill. In fact, he needed many more kills that night. It wasn’t going to be enough just choking someone to death anymore, he needed to feel them die, feel their source of life dissipate while in his hands. He had grown tired of strangling, it was now an insufficient way to fulfill cravings, too often had his hands felt the last breath pass through the larynx, the sound of gasping no longer pleasured the death fetish he possessed.

His next kill had to be horrid, gruesome, he felt the craving to bathe in blood and if anything less than that happened there would be no sense of fulfillment whatsoever. He searched the remainder of the night; the craving had crept up and overwhelmed him. A few times he was even tempted to tear the lungs out of people that were submersed in a sea of people walking down the crowded sidewalks, but he refrained, he knew that it would be almost impossible is evade law enforcement if there was a definite description of him.

So he remained in the shadows, resting in darkened alleyways and abandoned playgrounds, he waited until and isolated person fell into his bearings. He needed isolation for this kill.  ¶ 21:28 0 comments

  The Stranger - I - An Ongoing Journey And suddenly it was all over, the screams had ceased and the old hallway was quiet again. No one dared to open their doors to discover what had caused the screaming, nor to see what had stopped it.

A figure struts down the hallway, each light burning out overhead as the stranger passes by. Finally the sound of a door opening and closing and then nothing.

The stranger roams the city, looking for fresh blood. Always looking, always wanting the sensation of a kill. It does him no good to think about the crimes he had committed in the past, only what he is going to commit in the future. Every time he stops a heart, his desires are fulfilled for only a brief moment, and then the hunger comes back. He needs the pain, he needs the sickening sounds and the gruesome scenes to keep him going, without it he feels like he begins to decay from the inside. A sickness that overwhelms him is too much to control, like a junkie looking for a fix, he wanders the streets with wide eyes and a steady pace, waiting, watching, analyzing the life seen around him. He does not know who will be next, nor does he care for a name, marital status or job position, as long as there is a heart beating, his hunt will continue.

Maybe it was his upbringing, abusive parents that disregarded him until they needed something to hit, or maybe it was just something he saw, somewhere along the gnarled and misshapen road that is his life. The factors are unknown even to him, all he knows is he wants to continue taking lives of others. Innocent, guilty and anything in between, it does not matter, and probably never will.

It's three o'clock in the morning. The stranger does not stop to rest until he has found one more victim for the night. He wanders down an almost pitch black alleyway, a cat jumps from behind a dumpster and scampers away. Animals never satisfied his hunger. He killed a bear with a bowie knife once, but he was hungry immediately after. It was something about humans, maybe the smell of fresh blood, sweat and tears that drove him. Animals don't fear for their lives, they simply accept the circumstances. They don't cry and beg for mercy or apologize and repent before their death. They fight, no compassion, no other objective besides kill or be killed.

A man was sleeping in the alleyway, snoring loudly. A bottle of bourbon, almost empty was on it side and rolling around the man by force of the wind. The man cried out in his sleep, shouting "NO! You bastards! NO!" Followed by more mumbling and then resumed snoring. Although it was too easy for him to kill this man in his sleep, the hunger overtook him as he stood over the body. His fingers extended and he bent down, grabbing the man by his neck. He woke up yelped, grabbed his arms and tried to get free. It was a grip of death, the man knew he was going to die and realized there was nothing he could do about it. Slowly he let his arms drop to the ground and the proceeded to stare into his killers eyes. His breathing slowed from an excited gasp for air to a calm rasp as he felt fingers dig into the back of his neck, his jugular being crushed by the incredible force of murderous hands. Slowly the rasp faded, and the man was dead. The stranger stood lied down next to the man and slept for several hours, feeling relieved, fulfilled and warm inside.

He awoke three hours later, the alley still quiet, the sun starting to peek out over the horizon. Sitting up and stretching, he prepared himself for another day. He wondered how long he could go without having to take a life. But the moment he thought about murder, the hunger came back. Like a fire in the pit of his stomach, creeping up his neck and into the back of his eyes. He needed more. It was much harder to kill someone in the day, so many people watching. He couldn't get caught. If he got sent to prison he would be so limited. Only two people to a cell, he could only take a life every once in a while. It wouldn't be enough.

He wandered through the streets for the day, food and shelter were his second priorities. He was hunting again, this time he needed a challenge. Up and down the streets for hours, looking for the perfect person. He spotted a cop breaking up a small fight that had occurred in front of a café. The cop stood over the two bodies and tore the man on top off. He flung him a good five or six feet and watched him land on his face. Bleeding from the nose and mouth the man stood up and tried to run away. Putting his boot on the neck of the man still on the ground, he adopted a firm stance, drew his sidearm and shot once. The running man had gotten maybe thirty feet when he dropped. He didn't make a sound, besides that of his face smashing off the pavement again. He didn't move, neither did the cop for a moment. He may not have meant to kill him. Handcuffing the man on the ground he lifted him up and took him to the squad car parked about fifty feet away. The running man still lay there, a pool of blood quickly forming from where the bullet had pierced the back of this head and exited out of his right eye.

The stranger had found his next target. Someone like him. Someone not afraid to take the life of another . This would be a challenge, but this would give him his fix for a sufficient amount of time. The cop had to wait around for an ambulance, when it arrived the corpse was wrapped up and thrown into the back of the vehicle. The cop got into his car and sped away. The stranger remembered his face. There was no escaping for this boy in blue. He was the next target, and nothing could change that. Slowly the stranger made his way to the police station and found the cop's car parked out front of the building. He had remembered the number on the back of the car. Making sure no one was looking, he slid under the car and found a place to hold onto, elevating himself only inches off the ground. He waited for several hours, but to him it was fully worth it. He could already feel the adrenaline rushing through his body, he did not rest and remained elevated for three hours before the cop get into his car and drove for about half an hour.

He arrived at a house, parked at the curb in front and turned off the car. He remained in the car for a few minutes, inaudible mumbles could be heard faintly through the chassis. The door opened, the stranger saw the polished boots hit the pavement and walk towards the house, as he approached the door he rang the doorbell and waited. While he was waiting the stranger crawled out from underneath the car and began running at his target. The door opened, a man in a wifebeater carrying a Budweiser briefly glanced at the cop, then at the stranger barreling towards him. His openmouthed reaction got the cop on guard. Before he even attempted to turn around he lowered his arm and drew his pistol. As the cop spun around he had enough time to get off a single shot; the bullet penetrated the left shoulder but did nothing to stop his objective. With his left hand he tore the pistol out of the cops hands and grabbed him by the throat. The Budweiser could be heard smashing onto the cement stair, the guy had turned and ran into the house, undoubtedly to grab a firearm, possibly to call for more police.

The cop swung with his left and landed it on the side of the strangers face. At this point in time physical pain was impossible to acknowledge, he smiled slightly and squeezed until he could feel his fingers touch each other through his throat. Arms flailing uselessly as less and less oxygen was received by the brain, he was soon cut off from everything, his body went limp, but he did not drop onto the ground, he remained on his toes through the stranger, just holding him by the throat, studying exactly how his victim was dying. The stared at each other, the cops eyes wild with the realization of impending loss of life, the strangers were calm, filled with joy and a slightly watery, this was his Nirvana. And just like that, at his climactic moment, it was over. The stare was maintained no longer, the cops eyes rolled into the back of his head and he was dead. He was dropped to the ground, the goal had been achieved.

He had almost forgotten about the owner of the house. His voice could be heard emanating through the back of the house, "You wanna kill a cop on my property mother fucker?! I'll show you!" The faint sounds of a shotgun being loaded had made it convincing enough that he could do something, but it didn't matter. The stranger stood in the doorway, grabbed the body of the cop, picked him up by the same spot and held him towards the hallway leading to the door. "Take shit fucker!" The guy screams as he pops around the corner and unloads two cartridges into the carcass. The second blast penetrated the body completely and the stranger took a few shards into his left shoulder, but was still not at liberty to feel any pain.

It took a few seconds for the guy to realize that he just mutilated an officers body and he reloaded. By the time he had cocked the shotgun the stranger had already grabbed the barrel with his right hand and wrapped his left hand around the back of the guy's head, pushing his face into the barrel of the shotgun. The guy struggled but before he could remove his finger from the trigger guard the stranger kneed the weapon and set off a shot. It sprayed all over the hallway leading into the house. You could hear other people inside, screaming for their lives and calling out , presumably the just deceased's name. The man without a face stiffened up before he had hit the ground, and made a thud of something with no give whatsoever.

It was time to go, that was just a slight kicker compared to his prize. He has overestimated the situation, he had thought he was in for a hell of a fight, but to him, a fight should go on for an hour before either side lets themselves die. It was only enough for a day, he spent the entire day digging the metal out of his shoulder and mending his wounds. Food had become necessary for survival, he knew there were certain things he could consume that would help him heal in a matter of days, he knew that there were many different aspects of taking the energy out of humans, he needed to kill to live, it was the most basic of mentalities but it was all the stranger knew.

He found an easy kill that night, a kid, maybe in his early twenties, full of life, skating in a park after dark. He took no joy in this kill, there was nothing to it except for the aspect of survival. The kid saw him approaching, a silhouette walking objectively towards him, he stopped skating and waited for the approach, headphones still on his ears. "What do you want?" He yelled, the stranger didn't answer. He grabbed the kid by the mouth, covering it with one plam and dragged him into an alleyway where he propped the kid up against the wall, leaned in and apologized for what he was about to do, but it had to be done and broke his neck. He ate what he could raw, but it started to overturn his stomach after a while. He started a small fire in the alley and cooked small parts at a time, hiding the body in a nearby dumpster. Homeless people wandering around would stumble into the alley and scream out in drunken pleasure 'mmmm.. smells great! Can I get some of that?" and other attempts, but at they approached, every single one got a glimpse of the stranger, and changed their minds on trying to get any food. He ate until he could not possible eat anymore, both legs and arms had been devoured, the heart and a part of the brain that is said to increase strength.
He had learned this by no means of his own, he had just known certain things for as long as he could ever remember anything in his life.  ¶ 21:28 2 comments

  The Stranger - III - Alternate Methods A few hours had passed and the craving had become impossible to postpone any longer. There were still too many people in the streets. He found a public restroom; there were two stalls adjacent to three urinals. The stranger waited in that stall. He only had to wait a few minutes before the sound of footsteps approached, the door creaked open and the sound of a belt buckle coming undone.

The stranger was waiting for a stroke of magnificent luck, which he received. The man used the urinal closest to the adjoined stall. His feet were visible, the stranger bent down and reached for his ankles. The man heard the stranger move towards him. “What the fuck? Who’s in there?” Silence. He had not completely relieved himself and concentrated on finishing the task in hand.

He stared down at his feet and leaned over slightly to see something through the gap. Just as the man had convinced himself that he was drunk and just hearing things the stranger grabbed his left ankle, twisted and pulled the man’s leg underneath the stall, grinding the skin off of his shin. He smashed the man’s leg upwards and into the wall, reversing the natural bend at the knee.

The man screamed in pain as the stranger pulled the rest of his body under the stall. As the man lay on his back he stared up through wincing eyes and say the stranger; gun metal grey eyes piercing through his target, wild with the anticipation of blood soon to be spilled.

“Please don’t hurt me; I’ll give you anything you want! Just stop! Please!” The man yelled. The stranger smiled slightly and pushed the man’s head out from under the stall. He grabbed his arms and pulled up. The man’s throat was crushed into the wall and he began to struggle. The stranger pulled harder on the arms; pops and cracks could be heard coming from his shoulder blades, elbows and neck. A moment later the sound of tearing flesh as his arms had begun to separate from the torso.

The man attempted to scream but it came out only as a gurgle, his trachea was completely collapsed. The stranger tossed the arms into the next stall and watched his victim convulse. The man’s eyes were wide open but unseeing. He stared at the ceiling experiencing truly blinding pain. The stranger bent down and placed his hands on the man’s chest. He grabbed the loose flesh and tore away large pieces of skin, then the muscle and finally he tore the man’s ribcage open.

A beating heart bloodily presented itself; it was slowing down rapidly. Upon sight the stranger embraced the organ and tore it from the chest cavity. The man convulsed underneath the stranger as he inspected the heart. It was still beating faintly; he held it above his head and let some of the blood drip onto his tongue. He squeezed and crushed his prize. He had been fulfilled once again.

He tried to wash off some of the blood but it was everywhere, in his ragged long hair, all over his tattered clothes, it would be very hard to evade incarceration if someone were to see him exiting the restroom. He managed to slip out unnoticed, leaving bloody footprints for a few feet and then vanishing into the alleyways once again.

His cravings did not come back for a few hours, but when they did the stranger was offset. It angered him to know that he was going to have to take yet another easy life. He knew the next person he came into contact with would plead and cry just like all the rest. It made his blood boil, he needed another challenge but his cravings had superseded this goal. He just needed to get his hands on anyone.

With clenched fists the stranger marched through the alleyways. A drunken homeless man was bending over and puking into a garbage can. He heard the stomp of boots approaching him and turned around to see the stranger coming closer and closer.

“What the fuck you want?” He screamed. “Godfuckingdammit answer me you piece of shit! I’ll tear you to pieces” I’ll rip your eyes out!” The man drunkenly lunged at the stranger. He got a hold of his hair and tore out a large patch. He began punching, a fury of fists landing on the stranger’s face. He did not defend himself, this unexpected aggression pleased a part of him. This man was ready to die fighting, a very rare occurrence to the stranger. He watched the man try to destroy him. His fists had broken open on the stranger’s teeth, blood spattered all around. The stranger felt a few of his teeth loosen and begin to float around in his mouth. He decided the man had had his turn.

“I’ll kill you!” He screamed as he wound up for what was hoped to be the end-all punch. As he swung the stranger ducked and maneuvered behind the man. He grabbed him by the back of his neck and pointed him towards a wall about ten feet away. He ran at the wall and with all his force smashed the man’s face into it. He repeatedly drove the man’s face into the wall until he had passed out.

As his unconscious body lay on the ground the stranger got on top of him and began punching. Blood continued to spatter the walls with each punch. He began hitting harder; he could feel the skull start to give out. Harder still, the man’s face had started to cave in. He did not stop until there was no possibility of recognition, all that remained was skull fragments and the pulverized brain leaking through broken skin.  ¶ 21:28 0 comments

  The Stranger - IV - An Apprentice He wandered throughout the night; he wondered if he would get any fulfillment if he was to take a life with just one punch. It didn’t seem feasible but another kill was again becoming apparently necessary.

It was three in the morning, the only people out were prostitutes and the men that needed to use their services. The stranger walked out of the alleyway and down the street. He saw a man in a business suit get out of his vehicle and approach a hooker. His hand gestures and uncomfortable behavior could have signified that this was the first time he had attempted to pay for sex. The stranger clenched his right fist and talked towards the two conversing. The man was facing towards the street, pointing at his minivan parked on the opposite side.

As the stranger passed by he threw a solid punch into the side of the man’s head. He flew a good six feet and scraped his face off of the sidewalk. Blood immediately started to pool around the man’s head.

“What the fuck did you do that for? The son of a bitch was gonna give me five hundred bucks for a blow job!” The prostitute screamed at him. He shot a look at her that immediately ceased her complaining. She turned around and ran as fast as she could in 6’ stilettos.

He had never resorted to killing prostitutes. Somewhere in his mind he realized that the women that were forced to sell their bodies had more than likely just as screwed up of a life as he had had, and it had always been on of those personal rules the stranger would abide by. Although it wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision he also concluded that he would receive little to no gratification if he were to go ahead and take one of their lives.

As he walked back down another alleyway he tried to decipher exactly what it was that would provide him with a continuous sense of fulfillment, but nothing crossed his mind. He had never felt as if he had a simply recreational reason for doing what he did, he felt it a necessity for his survival. If there was not a steady flow of blood exerted by his hands he felt he would not be able to continue on with his own life.

As he walked he sensed another presence, he wandered cautiously, although the possibility of an attack was unlikely it was still very possible. A glass bottle could be heard moving and echoing through they alleyway. The stranger surveyed everything but could not see what his intuition was telling him was there. A few minutes of silence passed and the stranger continued slowly down the alleyway.

A tug on his tattered overcoat sent him into a rage. He spun around, hands like talons about to rip into whoever had approached him, but he stopped short. An immense confusion overcame him as he realized that is was a child, no older than seventeen.

“Before you kill me, I need to ask you something.” The boy said. He stood in front of the stranger, unshaken, eyes full of confidence but also hinting at an immense pain. The stranger said nothing but reverted from his offensive stance. “I saw what you did to that drunk, I saw what you did to that suit, I know I should fear you, I know you could kill me on the spot, but I want to come with you.”
The stranger could barely comprehend why this boy had approached him, let alone the fact that he was offering some sort of union.
“That drunk was my father, he was a no good piece of shit. He killed my mother four years ago and got away with it because he took to the streets and dragged me along with him. I was planning on killing him one of these days, but I never got around to it. I need to thank you for that. I’m finally free of that fuck.”

There was a brief pause. The kid expected the stranger to acknowledge anything he had said, even a nod would have been sufficient, but the stranger just stood there. The child could not tell, but the stranger was in awe. Not even in his sickest dreams did he ever think someone would commend him for what he had done.

A thousand thoughts crossed through the strangers mind as he stared at the boy. They maintained eye contact throughout, neither of them had any intention of breaking the only connection either of them had had in a very long time. He thought of repercussions, he wondered if the boy was sincere in his approach, he expected the boy to attack him, and he waited for it.

This intense silence lasted a few minutes, the stranger could not find words for the boy. “Look, my life ain’t worth living, so if you want to kill me go right ahead, I won’t even fight you, just tear my throat out, because if I can’t come with you I’m just going to go kill myself anyways.” The boy’s eyes were watering, it was a surprisingly emotional moment for him. He did not know whether or not he would be accepted, nor did he know whether or not the stranger was going to murder him on the spot. He just needed a reaction, any reaction from the stranger, even just to signify that his message had been understood.

The stranger decided to go out on a limb, he had never had a companion, he had never had a friend or a follower. It was a new experience that had briefly made him forget his immense cravings. He turned slowly and again began to walk down the alleyway. He could hear footsteps as the boy pursued him at a distance. For the rest of the night the boy followed the stranger, always at a distance, but always present.

He decided to test the boy. He wanted to know if he could truly handle witnessing the life that the stranger was leading. At six in the morning the stranger stopped walking. He came to the end of an alleyway and peered around the corner. There was a man going for a morning jog, running down the sidewalk. The stranger leaned up against the wall and signaled the boy to come over to him. The boy’s face beamed as he was finally acknowledged; he ran over and took place beside the stranger. The stranger pointed his thumb in the direction the jogger was coming from and the boy peered out to see. He confirmed what he saw, then the stranger pointed at the boy. He nodded and understood.

The footsteps grew closer, as the man passed the alley the stranger grabbed him by the throat and pulled him deep into the alleyway. He threw him to the ground and watched. The boy was on top of the man in a second, a knee firmly planted on the man’s chest, the boy punched him a few times and reached into his back pocket. He drew his knife and was about to stab the man in the heart when the stranger grabbed his arm. The boy looked back with confusion, but then dropped the knife and continued to pummel the man. He punched him in the throat, poked his eyes and repeatedly kneed him in the chest. The man was still very much alive and resisting. He saw the boy through the blood running down his face and saw the stranger standing behind him monitoring the situation.

“What the fuck are you doing! Get the fuck off of me! Help! Help!” He cried. The boy persisted but could not finish the job with his bare hands. This disappointed the stranger, but he realized that he could teach this boy many things. He walked over and crouched beside the two, the jogger grabbed at the strangers leg and squeezed. “Call this little shit off!” He yelled. The stranger tapped the boy on the shoulder and he stopped hitting the man. The stranger looked at the boy and the boy looked back, waiting for his next instruction. Without looking, the stranger grabbed the man by the throat and squeezed. A gurgle and a pop and the man could breathe no longer. He began to convulse and the boy’s eyes filled with elation as he witnessed a life dissipate directly underneath him.  ¶ 21:28 0 comments

  Howzat? Saturday morning 9:38

I woke up and looked around. Same as always, same room, same unbroken silence. The apartment was empty.
I sat there for a few minutes, rubbing my eyes for a bit, basically procrastinating on starting the day. Eventually, I got out of bed and did the usual, shit shower'n'shave routine and got dressed.
I kept thinking to myself, something about today, I got a feeling something I either really did or did not want to happen, would happen. Regardless, as I was walking down the hall I kept trying to imagine what would probably happen, like I could predict the future of somethin, which I really couldn't.

Sorry, forgot to tell you my "intro". I guess you'd probably like to read all about where i grew up and who my parents were and all that good stuff, but I'm not going to, because I don't want to, quite frankly. What I will tell you is a little bit about what’s been happening to me lately, it's actually something that I reckon telling people about would maybe actually enjoy and learn from my story, and if you don't like it, well whatever, to each his own right? Anyway, my name is Jay, it's not short for anything, just Jay. It even says so on my birth certificate, and who could argue with a government document, they're sacred aren't they? My full name is Jay Hale. I live on the thirteenth floor of an apartment building, second building in the complex of four, in a quiant little city called New York.

I've lived there for most of my life, about seventeen years. Since then i've developed all the skills to survive on my own, and I've also developed the ability to learn about what's going around me as much as possible. When i was younger I didn't really pay much attention to what was going on with anything. Everything I saw I just kind of took in, and nothing really processed all the way. I guess I just didn't care to know anything, just take it one day after the next and everything'll be fine eventually I suppose. Then I started to pay attention to the things I had bluntly taken in for several years. There was a certain hockey player, I would watch him on the box any night New York was playing, seeing that there was never anything else of much interest on I picked up on the game. Can't remember the name of him right now, but i remember his number was 17, and that he played a killer game most of the time.

Once, I was watching a game, it was Devils vs NY and 17 had just gotten smashed into the boards and knocked unconcious. This was somewhat concerning. As the camera panned in on him laying on the ground and the medics rushing over something weird happened, it was like i felt his pain for a split second. It felt like someone had just shot my brain from the inside or something, and then it was gone. I looked back at the screen and 17 was still in the camera, face bloody, eyes open, staring directly at the camera. His eyes were wide open, almost in shock and the shot panned away from his face up to the glass where he had smashed into. The impact was so hard it actually left a small spiderweb, with a small blood stain in the center. I sat back and tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. Had that made any sense? I decided to leave it alone, and that maybe i'm just losing my sanity.

At the time I thought maybe this was just a random insane thought crossing my thoughts, but now that i've seen what i have. By the way, i'm not asking you to believe everything i say, because a lot of it sounds crazy, just keep an open mind.

Events that were in reality not related to me in any way, seemed to become related to me if i payed attention to them. I remember another time, I was at a party, it was a big house party, lot's of people, i had heard the music from my balcony, so i decided to go. I got there and everyone was drunk and having fun. I sat down in a chair in the t.v. room and just drank, watched people go by having fun, spilling shit on the rug, burning themselves with cigarettes and so on. It was funny to watch, but I never really liked to partake in it most of the time. As i sat there, the room had become heavy with people. There were kids trying to change the channel on the t.v. and a few others bitched at them to leave it on the same channel. This prompted an arguement which led to drunken fighting. One guy shoved another into the coffee table in front of me and it desinigrated under him. Two of his friends got him back on his feet and ready to fight again, shoving him into his swaying opponent in less than ten feet of space free in the room. More shit got broken and the kid that owned the house came down to inspect. He started bitching at the two guys fighting and kicked them out. Now, everything should have gone back to normal, fun, spilling shit, burning and so on, but it didn't.

Everyone sort of just sat down and listened to the music blaring in the other room. I sat there in front of these people and wanted to say something. When i thought that, a girl with dark green eyes looked up at me menacingly. Maybe she was right, I don't really have a say in this, but what was weird about it was that i didn't say anything. I thought, maybe i should leave, the room shifted slightly, uncomfortable movements and even more uncomfortable faces. What i couldn't understand was why? What had made all these drunken teenagers deperessed? It was a fight, that got broken up. I wanted to get up, but didn't really need the attention, so just sat there and looked around. Some were concentrating on the movie that was playing, quietly laughing every so often, and a few girls in the back were whispering something. I tried to make out what they were saying, but thought it was too quiet.
"Shh. He'll know" I think one said.
"Well it has to be done" The other responded
At that point the movement in the room was too loud to hear what else they were saying, but for some reason, maybe ego-maniacal, but i thought they were talking about keeping something away from me. I looked over to catch one of them glancing away from me, and I could almost convince myself of it.
"Well, what'll it be then?" A voice from the t.v. caught my ear.
"Umm.. well.. uh.. i.. guess.. " A second voice. They were watching an old movie where the protagonist possibly, is holding a joint to the face of a young kid. Peer pressure seemed to be a theme. Take it I thought, with a small laugh. Several kids snickered at the same time.
I really should leave now, this party's dead. I thought

"Well fine, be that way then, see if you'll get anything from me ever again!" The voice from the television blurted. At the same time a few people coughed, one guy was looking around the room and glanced at me, i made eye contact and nodded. He leaned over to his friend watching the movie and whispered something. His friend just smiled and knodded. I could make out the words from his lips
"I know man, I know."
what's going on here? are people mad at something? Slight movements around the room. I didn't get it, so I decided to leave. I stood up and almost immediately half the room looked at me. Few had almost relieved expressions on thier faces.
"Take it easy guys, nice seeing ya." I said, trying to sound like I really meant it, like i knew any of them. A few nods from some, quick smiles from others and I was gone. Walking out the front door I could almost swear I could hear people picking up conversations from half an hour ago.

Walking down the street back to my apartment I was thinking about very strange things. I didn't know if i could actually believe that I had anything to do with the sudden decline in attitude at the house, but for some reason something was telling me this could be true. I hadn't done anything wrong, i didn't say a single fuckin word the whole night almost, besides "No that's not my beer" and "Nah man, I don't smoke." It was like, just by being there I brought people down. Of course i didn't have any hardcore proof, but hey, anything was possible i suppose.
At that point in time, I tried to recall anything else that had happened like that, and i couldn't really think of anything in my past that had ever brought people down like that, but again, i never really paid much attention. It could have been happening all my life and I may have never noticed.

Enough with the memories though, I just wanted to give you a little background info first. You know how it is.
I got onto the elevator and pressed the dimly lit G button on the panel. The doors wheezed shut and the elevator started it's decent to the ground floor. The flickering floor indicator dropped three floors and stopped, two girls stepped in, going on about something.
"Not even, if I had had that chance, yeah for sure I would have taken it." One said.
"You never know, you'd probably be saying somethin else if you were actually there" The other responded. They were cute, probably about my age.
The girls continued talking about whatever it was they found so important.
Wouldn't it be nice.. I thought, casually shifting my eyes downwards. I hadn't gotten laid in and unfortunate number of months, years possibly. Stuff like that isn't really nessecary to keep track of. The girls had stopped the conversation and one was looking at me with disgust. Had it been that obvious i was checking her out? Even if, what was the big deal?

Before I had a chance to ask, the doors opened and the two girls marched out without even so much as another glance and I continued on my way to a small restaurant i knew of a few blocks away. I rarely cook, and I always have the money to buy food. I don't have a job, but i've become good friends with computers, and I found a way to make my own counterfeit money. It's almost perfect, except the paper quality is a little different. Regardless, people accept my home made twenties almost everywhere. I just hope no one catches on.
Walking into the restaurants, i noticed it was particularily full, especially for breakfast. Sitting down at a table, i wait for someone to come over and take my order. I just wanted a breakfast bagel and a beer. It's never a wrong time for beer.
As i waited for someone to serve me I noticed concerned glances coming from a couple across the restaurant. The woman looked over in my direction, maybe directly at me, and then leaned forward to the man and whispered something. He went to turn his head, but I could tell she told him not too. If he had, I could have figured out if it was me or not, but it didn't really seem to fit. I ignored the couple and went back to reading the menu. Waiting for a breakfast always take so much longer when you're really hungry, i thought. The waiter approaches not five seconds later and placed my breakfast combo on the table, a small nod and he walks a way. I guess today i was fortunate enough to get my meal in good time, which usually never happens.

Do you ever get that feeling you're being watched? And then as soon as you start thinking about it all the hairs on the back of you're neck stand up? Maybe the hair stands up because you're being watched, or maybe it's just paranoia, and by thinking someone is watching you its the real reason. I wasn't sure, but I got the feeling, and all the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. I decided to ignore it at the moment, feeling that it really wasn't something worth racking my brain over.
Unfortuantely for me, this was one of the few times I should have been paranoid and looked around the room, because, possibly coincidence, possibly that weird sixth sense thing, there was two men looking right at me. One was talking to the waiter, and she was pointing at me, the other one just stood there eyeing people in the restaurant. They we're both dressed in these really expensive type suits, kinda like government officials or something. I had no idea this was going on. I was just sitting back reading some random article in the Times. It was a sort of funny article, about how by donating pennies to homeless support groups ironically takes away the only job the homeless have. I had just finished the article and these two suits walk up to me casually and stand beside my table.

"Hale? Mr. Hale? Are you Jay Hale? The one closest to me asked. His tone was sharp and direct, I figured for sure they were government.
"Um, yeah. who wants to know?
"We're from the, um, Internal Revenue Services." He responded.
He had to think about that?
"Right, anyways, we need to talk to you about something in private. You may be a key element in solving a case."
"What? What case? I haven't heard shit about any case man, I think you have the wrong guy. “
"Jay Hale, you are Jay Hale are you not?" He remarked almost like he forgot I had just told him a minute ago.
"Yeah, but maybe there's another Jay Hale in the city."
"We looked it up", the second official chimed, "you're the only Jay Hale in all of the New York reigon. And our sources say that you know something we need to know, so if you will kindly come with us we can continue onto the case."
"What fucking case??" I was almost screaming at them. I didn't really want to draw too much attention to this, so i tried to keep calm.
"Please", The first one said wearily "If you will just get in the car, we'll discuss this whole thing. It's too confidential to reveal any information about this here, you never know who could be listening."
"Wouldn't it be YOU guys if any that would have places like this tapped?" These guys were really discontenting. I didn't want to get in a freakin car with these two tight ass-right-side-of-the-law-at-all-times types because I really didn't have jack shit to do with anything they were trying to convince me of knowing.
"Fine. If you aren't willing to cooperate with us, we'll just have to use force." He said, opening his expensive jacket slightly, exposing a holster with what looked to be a standard issue glock.
"You'll shoot me right here if I don't cooperate with you?" I questioned silently. "You're actually willing to kill me for something that I don't even think I'm supposed to be involved in?"
"That may be the case Mr. Hale. I suggest for your sake, that you take a drive with us, and let us fill you in on what's happening."
"Why the fuck should I care what's happening? What's any of this got to do with me? I'm not going to get in you're goddamn car unless you tell me why." I started getting angry. I really wanted to just stand up and crack him in the face. Just seeing his sunglasses flying off in two directions, and him falling to the ground with a thud started making me consider actually taking a swing at him.

The agent, or whatever he was, took off his glasses and stared at me. His eyes were grey and cold. "I'm sorry, but you are getting in that car with us, and you will be discussing some matters that we are quite positive you are involved in. Now, you have proven to us that you are not willing to cooperate with us, and you have given us no choice but to use force."
With that, a third agent came up from behind me and injected something into my neck, holding me there, in front of an entire restaurant full of people. I passed out instantly and presumably was dragged into thier car.
I awoke in a chair in front of a big black table in which looked to be an interrogation room. There was a television in the corner, a filing cabinet beside the door and a camera on the opposite side. The clock on the wall read 4:30. I wasn't sure if it was morning or night, nor did I care at that point. I just wanted to figure out whatever it was these guys needed to talk to me about, so i could explain to them how they could shove the whole case up thier asses and that i had nothing to do with anything. The door opened, two more suits walked in and sat down across from me. They said nothing, they just sat down and began spreading some papers around. Finally, the one to my left set a final paper down and looked up at me.

"Mr Hale, my name is James Nealen, i'm in charge of the investigation unit, I'm just here to ask you a few questions."
"What is this regarding?" I asked.
"This is regarding you." He retorted.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"That's all i can tell you at this point in time." He said as he began looking over his papers again.
I looked over to the suit on my right. He was just sitting there watching me.
"And why are you here?" I asked. I figured i had a right to know that much. He looked at me with suprise, like he didn't think i could communicate with him or something.
"Sorry, Karl Rosenberg, head of the interrogation unit. I'm here because you have some information I need as well."
“Well then, shoot. What do you need from me?”
“We’ll leave that for later, Mr. Hale. Right now Mr. Nealen needs to ask you a few questions first.”
Finally Nealen looks up from his papers and looks at me.
“We have been watching you from some time now Mr. Hale, and I believe that there is something, let’s say, different about you. The, um, Bureau is concerned about the effect you have on others. We believe you may be missing a chance to play a vital role in our society by being a complacent non-conformist that doesn’t vote and makes counterfeit money on his computer.”
“You bastards have been watching me? That’s goddamn invasion of privacy. How long have you been watching me?”

“Pretty much since you moved to New York Mr. Hale. You see, we believe that you are here to assist in the morale and lifestyles of this city. If you’re in a good mood and talkative, everything seems to flow. Business usually increase in sales, stocks usually go up, and studies have shown over the years that it rains less as well.”
I sat there for a second, just trying to understand what he had just told me. Standing up slowly I announced that it was great to meet them and fuck off. Heading for the door both agents stood up.
“Mr. Hale, we do realize the scale of this matter is significantly larger than anyone would normally expect, and this is hard to believe but trust me, this is true.”
The door was locked. Giving up on escape I decided to sit down and hear what these space cadets had to say.
“Alright, assuming that that is true, why the hell would you pick me? I haven’t accomplished anything worthy of this.”
“It wasn’t us that picked you, it’s in you.”
“Right. So what am I supposed to do with whatever’s in me?
“You are here to keep spirits high or low if you’re not happy.”
It seems things just keep getting stupider.
“So are you actually, um, FBI?”
“We are a branch of the government similar to it, but it deals in matters pertaining to people such as yourself.”
“Like myself?”
“You’d be pretty daft to have to think we’ve built this whole branch just for one person.”
“So, there’s a lot of these people like me?”
“Twelve to be more precise.”
“And what do we have in common?”
“It seems that your ancestors, as with the other twelve members are here to control certain parts of the world.”
Just then, there was a blast, the building shook, lights started flickering.
“What the hell was that?” Nealand asked, standing straight up.
“You’re the fuckin agent here, you tell me.”
This must have been some drug induced dream or something because a moment after I said it there was another blast louder than last time and I woke up in my apartment and sat up. Feeling a little dazed, kind of like a hangover but still drunk at the same time. It was Monday morning.

“Damn, that actually happened.” Sitting down to a cup of day old coffee I tried to figure out where all of that had come from. It didn’t make any sense but they seemed pretty dedicated to who or what I was.
I turned on the tv, half expecting it to be those agents on the screen with the words “We’re watching”” flickering below. It was football. Patriots verses Raiders, tied at 28. There were 3:00 left and the Patriots had the ball, I watched one of the players run down the center and get on a clear path to the endzone. The Patriots are doing pretty good this year. Just then the player slowed down and dropped to his knees, holding the football above his head and then getting driven into the ground by four Raiders. Well, I’d say that’s a sign, but it could be coincidence.
“You’re damn right,” A voice on the tv blurted. “That was just about the dumbest things I’ve ever seen him do. I mean he was right at the line for godssake. He get’s paid millions a year and this is how he plays, it just doesn’t make sense Jim. Back to you.”
I think I needed some fresh air. I went out to the balcony and looked over. Usually the area is pretty much dead, not many people pass by, but today there were signs of life.
Two girls walking under my balcony looked up and smiled. I could see a few more walking down another sidewalk on the street stretching straight down my field of view. I could tell they were cute even from where I was. Kids were riding their bikes through the streets and there was an old couple further down as well. Looking around I notice another good looking female walking towards the building, she noticed me looking and smiled too. That was pleasantly freaky. She went into the lobby and disappeared out of sight.  ¶ 21:28 0 comments

  The City Chapter 1 2:23am Saturday morning

Screams came from the alley below, someone yelled something, a gunshot, and the screaming stopped. Unfortunately I had gotten used to these nightly events; someone always gets hurt at night in this city.

I had been living in an apartment on the eight floor of a run down building. The rent was cheap, and so was everything else. The toilet worked when it wanted to and the fridge would only come to life when there was nothing in it. I never knew appliances could be ironic. The hallway leading to my place was a long mustard yellow corridor that was covered with years of graffiti; most of it was too hard to see due to the poor quality of the lights. The carpet had been torn out in patches, and everything that was still on the ground was old, soiled, and falling apart.

I never used the elevator anymore; someone had been beaten to death in it a few months ago. I unfortunately needed to use it that day. When the doors opened, the mirrored walls were covered in crimson, still moving. The killer probably wasn't even a kilometer away. One of the mirrors had a large crack in it, with a blood stained indentation, presumably from where the guy on the floor had gotten his head smashed in. I took the stairs for the rest of the time I lived there.

I came to this city looking for a job, whether it be legal or not I really couldn’t care less. I had originally wanted to set up a small music store, but a friend advised me that people would just walk in and take anything they wanted. If you said anything, they’d shoot you in the face. I didn’t have a hard time believing that these things can happen here. I decided my music store might have to wait a while.

I didn’t have much money left, and it kept decreasing by the week. I finally decided to phone up my buddy Trent. He had connection in a lot of places with a lot of people, so I figured he could help me out.
The phone rang twice before he picked up.
“What do you want?” Trent asked harshly.
“Nice way to greet a friend” I replied.
“Oh, hey man, what’s up?” His voice changed to something a little less aggressive.
“I need a job or something, I’m out of cash.”
“So go rob someone.” Trent said bluntly, I knew he was only half serious.
“Seriously though, I need some way to get some cash.” I said, not trying to sound too desperate.
“All right, here’s what I’ll do. I’ll make a few phone calls, see if anyone needs a runner or something, cool?”
“Yeah man, thanks a lot, I’ll call you back in an hour.”
“Later” The phone clicked and it was done, I would phone him back in an hour and see what kind of job Trent had found for me. Hopefully it wasn’t too bad.”

* * *

Bleeding from so many different places, everything was in pain and I think my leg was broken. I just laid there, concentrating on keeping my breathing at a somewhat normal rate. What the hell had just happened? What went wrong?

I handed off the ‘product’ and when I asked where the cash was all I saw was a fist flying towards my face. Three guys, Russians I think. They had called wanting a few ounces of coke, and Trent had told me they were regular customers. He also told me they didn’t take shit, so not to piss them off, which I didn’t but they robbed me and beat me regardless.

When I got back to Trent’s apartment, bleeding all over the ground looking completely trashed, I explained what had happened. I could tell Trent didn’t agree with what they did either.
“They’re fuckin dead!!” He got up and got a small phone book out and started dialing some numbers. Each conversation lasted about fifteen seconds.
“Yo, it’s me”
“What can I do you for?”
“I need someone fixed”
“Another one eh? Heheh, you’re pissed off at a lot of people this month.”
“Yeah, this one ain’t for me.”
“Alright, I’ll make some arrangements.”
“Good.”
With that, the conversation was over and he would be looking through his book again, trying to find yet another number. After it was all done he turned and looked at me.
“We’ll find these fuckers. I can guarantee it. I’ll show em why no one fucks with me, or anyone I’m on good terms with.” He said, sitting back in his chair, it’s all he needed to do right now, sit and wait until whoever it was that he phoned to phone back with some news.

So maybe it wasn’t the type of job I had in mind. But I didn’t want to quit, something good could come out of being a dealer. Probably not, but hey, it’s was a good source of income for the time being. I just needed to learn how to fight.

The next day I got a phone call, it was Trent. He sounded a little less enraged than yesterday.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“What’s up?”
“You want another job? This time it’ll go the way it’s supposed to.” He said with some assurance behind his voice. I knew as well as he did that what happened was a pretty rare thing, even in an illegal business. Most people pay respect to the ones that supply them with their needs.
“Sure, just tell me where to be.”
“Alright, I need you to go meet a guy, one of my close friends; he’ll be waiting for you at the corner of Mallard St. and 54th. His name is Chavez.
“I’ll be there” I responded. I was glad to have some more business, hopefully this source was reliable.

At three o’clock I was standing at the corner of Mallard St. and 54th waiting for Chavez. I didn’t like standing there, I had an insecure feeling someone was watching me. I casually looked around at the windows of the surrounding buildings, looking for someone that might have been looking at me. I didn’t see anyone, but that’s never a good enough reason to believe you’re actually not under someone else’s secret supervision.

Fifteen minutes later I saw a man get out of a black 87 mustang that had been parked across the street. He was tall, not huge, but larger than average, and he wore mostly black clothing. He had on a black leather coat, too short to be considered a trench coat, black jeans and dark brown leather boots. His dark sunglasses made it impossible to see where he was actually looking. Summing it up, he looked like the stereotypical street dealer, which is what he was, so I guess it works.

He casually walked up to me, checking around him for anything that looked suspicious probably.
“You Trent’s friend?” He asked. He had a Spanish accent and a deep scratchy voice.
“Yeah, you must be Chavez, right?” He nodded.
“Come with me.” He said as he began walking back towards his car.
When we got into his car I noticed a small metal briefcase in the back seat. I assumed I’d be getting whatever it was that was in the case. We began driving down 54th, it was basically an abandoned street, the only people you see there are the strung out junkies and the homeless, which were usually junkies too. As we were driving he reached around and took the case that was resting on the back seat.
“Here, this is everything you’ll need.” Passing me the briefcase, I opened it to find six small vials of neon green liquid.
“What the hell is this?” I questioned. I didn’t want to come off as someone that didn’t know anything about current drug trends, but I had never seen anything like this.
“It’s something a few of my boys in the lab have been testing out. So far they haven’t gotten a good street name for it; they’ve called it lot 9900C. Don’t ask me why, that’s just the name they’ve chosen.”
“Well, what does it do to you? This stuff looks hardcore.” Eyeing one of the vials, it was transparent green goo almost.
“I dunno, I’ve never done it myself. But from some of the tests, the best way to describe it is like you’re falling up. I don’t really get what that would mean myself, but I’m sure anyone that tries it would understand. The guy that wants this is all into the chemicals. He buys different kinds, makes them into pill form, and charges something like four times the cost to make them. He’s making a small fortune offa this. That’s where you come in. I need you to drop this off at his house. It’s under surveillance, so don’t act stupid. I’ll be parked down the block.”

We drove silently for the remainder of the trip until we arrived somewhere on the other side of town. I thought my area was bad, but the real slums are the dangerous parts. People lose their lives here and no one notices. If they do notice no one say’s anything. You get lost here; you’re probably gone for good.
He parked a few hundred meters away in an alleyway.
“So all you have to do is go up to the sixth floor of the building over there, and knock on room 627. When he asks who you are, just say a friend.”
With that I got out of the car with the briefcase and started to walk towards the building. Sirens were going off all around this area. Ambulances, police, and anything else, it was almost constant. I got to the building and opened the steel gates that were the only entrance into the building. I typed in the code 627 and waited for the door to open. It buzzed and I walked in. The elevator was out of service, so I took the stairs.

Halfway between the fourth and fifth flight of stairs was two teenagers, one male, looked really strung out or something, the other one female; she looked about the same as her friend. Both of them looked like they hadn’t slept in days. They looked like they were probably off of the street, and sleeping in an alleyway usually didn’t involve much sleep. Why they were there I didn’t really know. As I walked past them they gave me a glance but mainly focused their attention on the case.
“You think that’s it” The girl whispered
“It better be.”
“I need this, I need this bad.”
“I know me too.”

I got to the door, number 627, it was already open. I wasn’t sure if I was taking that as a good sign or not. Cautiously, I walked in, knocking three times before stepping in.
“Over here man” Said a voice from down the hall. I walked over to a doorway and inside the room was a man sitting on a couch in front of a television, rolling some type of cigarette on the table.
“Hey, just have a seat over there,” He said, pointing over at the couch adjacent to his. As I went to sit down, the man reached into one of his pockets and drew out a large amount of bills. He looked at it for a moment, and then tossed it onto the table.
“Here you go, now I believe that’s mine.” He said, eyeing the case.
“Yeah, all yours buddy.” I said with a smile. “By the way, how’s that stuff make you feel?”
He looked at me questioningly; I guess he expected that I knew what I was talking about.
“It’s kind of like being in a dream, but you’re awake. You’re just free. Free to feel how you want to feel or something. I dunno, but a lot of people really like this stuff, so I’m probably going to be talking to you again sometime soon.
“Well, whenever you need it, just give us a call I guess.” With that, I stood up, and walked out, putting the large amount of bills in my inside pocket of my jacket.

Walking down the stairs I noticed that the two teenagers had vacated. The only sign of them was a smoldering cigarette butt that was only half stepped on. The second I got outside I started to become paranoid. There were sirens close, very close. I began to walk back to the car, looking around casually for anything suspicious. I didn’t see anything, but I still had that weird feeling that someone was watching me. I got in the car and shut the door. Chavez looked at me, took a pull from his cigarette and started the engine.

“I trust everything went okay.” He said.
“Yeah, I have you’re cash right here.” I said as I pulled the large wad of bills out of my pocket.
“So what’s my cut?” I asked. I was hoping for something good, even though all I did was drop something off.
“Take this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small roll of bills. I gave him the cash I had, and he gave me the stuff he pulled out of his pocket. It was about a thousand or so. Not too shabby.

We came to a stoplight and waited. I looked in the rear view mirror to discover a squad car two cars back. I didn’t really think much of it. You see cop cars all over the place. When the light turned green we turned left, so did the cop.
“Turn right.” I said, keeping my eyes on the car behind us.
“Why?” Chavez asked.
“Just do it man, I want to see something.”
“Alright man, but I don’t get why you want to turn right, we gotta go straight.”
The car turned right at the next corner, and my prediction was correct, the cop did too.
“We’re being followed.” I said quietly.
“Shit. Well, as long as we act cool and don’t do anything stupid we can’t get in trouble for anything.” Chavez said in an assuring voice.
All of a sudden the lights started flashing. The siren chirped to life and the police were on our ass.
“I still got a lot of shit in the back of this car man, I can’t let them find it.” Chavez said nervously. Out of nowhere his facial expression changed. He looked pissed.
“Screw it, we ain’t getting caught, not today.” He shifted into fourth and floored it. The cop sped up with us, but it wasn’t catching up completely. Chavez shifted into fifth and the old 87 mustang that we were in actually outran the cop car. We drove using mainly back roads until we reached my apartment. When I got out Chavez thanked me for the help and told me I’d probably be getting some more tasks sometime soon. With that I returned to my apartment.

When I got up to my floor I walked off the elevator and down the hall. A television was blaring in my neighbors place, it sounded like a soap opera or something.
When I got to my apartment I walked in and sat on the couch. Turned on the TV, and sat back. It had been an interesting day to say the least and I had a feeling there were going to many more opportunities to come. As long as I don’t get killed I think I’ll be okay.

The phone rang at around seven. I picked it up.
“Hello”
“Hey, it’s me.” It was Trent. “How’d it go?”
“Good, everything went as planned.”
“Good, good. You know those guys that robbed you yesterday? One of my buddies found em for ya. Hehe, and let’s just say they won’t be doing that type of shit in this city ever again.” He said with a somewhat twisted tone to this voice. The guys that had beat the hell out of me were getting theirs, but for some reason I think they were getting it a hell of a lot worse.
“Thanks man, I appreciate all this.”
“Hey, no problem man, what are friends for right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Cool, so I guess you’ll be needing another job right?”
“Yup, got anything?”
“Not right now, but I will soon, trust me, you’ll be among the first to know about some good stuff to come in the future. I’ll give you a call later.” With that there was a click on his end of the line and it was done.  ¶ 21:28 0 comments

  The City Chapter 2 I figured I’d take it easy for a couple of days, lay low if it was at all necessary. I didn't really expect to be getting any new jobs that soon either. I figured I’d hit a fuckin bar, alcohol seemingly less hazardous to the health at this point in time. With that I wound up some cash lying around the apartment, and headed out the door. The bruises on my face had faded slightly, but my chances with the ladies weren't looking too good without having to pay, well, for more than a few drinks at least.

I wandered the streets for about half an hour and found a small tavern in a heavy residential area; it was right at the base of some skyscraper of an apartment building. The place was pretty full; the sign above the door maxed the capacity at fifty. The place sort of stops for a second as I walk in, almost every eye in the room does a second look kind of twitch, the bartender walks to the elbow of the L shaped bar, directly towards the entrance to the bar, and says,


"Y..you can't be in here buddy, w..we don't need no trouble tonight buddy." The old bartender says, he sounded like an old east coast drunk that cleaned himself up just enough to get a job in the bar on account of the free booze, upon which he was undoubtedly indulging.
"I didn't come here to cause shit buddy, I just need a fuckin drink."
"Well um were all outta drinks there bud, you'll have to go someplace else." Was he fucking kidding me?
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Look, we just don't want no trouble here is all." I thought I needed to be trashed to start shit with people, but being sober was starting to prove easier than ever. It wasn't worth my time or effort to fend off all the loyal customers of this dingy little pub, so I left, making a mental note to do something about that when there's nothing better to do all I wanted to do was get drunk.

So I walked on, twenty minutes later I found myself near a little bar, independent of other buildings that looked a touch lower class than the other, but possibly more accepting. I walked in, and the twitch was only seen from the bartender. He watched me approach the bar. "How's it doin?" He asks. "Could be better, could be worse." I say, with a meager smile. He smirks, "What'll it be?” "Anything draught, doesn't matter." As I take a seat at the bar.

The place is dimly lit, the smell of ancient nicotine mixed with the ever present smoke mixed with alcohol and that weird smell that comes off of the extremely depressed; like their heart is still beating, but their body isn't really willing to keep on living, so it begins to rot, sort of metaphorically, but it's noticeable visually and through scent. It was weird, but I sort of felt safe here.

A few drinks later I began to look around, I had sort of stuck to looking at the liquor bottles lined amongst the walls, and decided there may be better things to see. Alcohol has always been like a little immediate confidence boost, with no time to really conceive how the events that I willingly create can be dealt with. My eyes locked with a few people, most turned away after a second or so, but one guy from the far end of the place, stared straight back. I nodded, and he nodded back. I continued to look at him and he stood up and started walking towards me. He looked like he was in his fifties, but it kind of looked like he was actually thirty or so, with years of substance abuse under his belt. "You know me man?" He says. "Nah, can't say that I do." I say. "Then why the fuck you nodding at me man?" He asks. "Honestly man, I don't know, I was just looking around, beer makes me do stuff I wouldn't normally do I guess." Again, no mood for fight, just want be drunk please.

"Well, I’d appreciate it if you'd look the fuck over there," He says, pointing to the other side of the bar. "Will do man, will do." I say as I sort of turn back towards the bar. "Good, it's a good choice there buddy." He says and walks back to his seat. I order another beer and leave. It's only eleven, I’m sort of buzzed, I figured walking around smoking cigarettes and weed for the next few hours could go either really good or really bad, but rationalizing with myself, I figured it was still worth it. I had a knife, but it'd probably be my demise at this point in time.
So I walked, for about an hour, occasionally going down one of the innumerable hidden alleyways or side streets this city is infamous for. The sidewalks were lengthened due to these alleyways, being the number three place on the cities most likely predator locations. People always walk right near the road due to this. I heard it was just one guy, who snapped, realized that he could just drag people into these little tiny alleyways, no cameras, bad lighting, and have his way. I'd sort of like to believe this is just one guy, but it's a whole fuckin bunch of these whack jobs. There’s people in this fucking city that literally hunt humans down for fun, and it takes the defense department up to and over a week at a time to catch most.

I really question why I came here, of all places, to build a music store. I could have just stayed where I was, selling drugs, playing poker, the lotto, and off track betting. I really tried to remember why I came here, but it didn't come to me. What the fuck could have convinced me? No tourist pamphlet can be that convincing. Another few blocks and I would be home, I didn't particularly want to go, but I had started to get sober, and that wasn't something I needed at this point.

As I approached the building I noticed a guy leaning against the walls opposite the elevator, I decided the stairs were always good, even when you're drunk, maybe even especially. The lights were so dim, all the plastic coverings coated with years of dirt and spit and other shit that I can't recall seeing anywhere else. As I approached the seventh I was relatively winded, that aside, I heard the door directly above me slam open and footsteps, two people. One jumped down the first flight, the second flight and then abruptly stopped when he saw me. He was carrying my guitar, no case, and a DVD player.

He quickly tried to run past but I grabbed him by the throat, took out his left knee and grabbed my guitar before he hit the ground. As I turned to rest my Washburn against the wall the other guy, carrying my Pignose amp in one hand, and all of the movies I owned, came crashing into me, he turned the corner saw me kneeling and his friend gasping for oxygen so he dropped the movies and the amp and tried to kick me in the face. I drew back in time, punched the first guy in the solar plexus, hopefully taking even more air away from him and, in all my drunken glory, uppercut the second guy. It hurt like fuck, I broke a finger, hit him right under the chin but he sprawled back, dazed a little, and stepped on a few of the fallen movies. I went up to him and punched him in the stomach a few times, and I got the feeling he wanted to tap out, so I threw him down the stairs. The gasping man on the ground watched helplessly as I threw his friend head first down a ten set, and then focused his eyes back on me. I grabbed him by the opening of his jacket and lifted him up. He looked relieved; he had almost regained his breath.

"Shouldna done it." I said. And with that, I tossed him down the flight as well. At this point I didn't even care to see if he landed on his friend or not, I just WANT BE DRUNK. I fucking hate this place. I grabbed my guitar, and picked up a few select movies, then I realized my player had been smashed, the movies weren't that great, so I tossed them back on the ground, grabbed my Pignose and proceeded upstairs. The door was open, smashed in, and the place was trashed, but it was trashed when I last left it regardless. Drawers, cupboards, everything on hinges had been searched. There was very little of value in this shitpit, but then it occurred to me, I had a silver ring, sentimentally valued, that had been given to me as a gift a long time ago. I didn't wear it all that often. It had been in the bottom drawer of a dresser in the bedroom.

It was missing, so I decided to see if they had dropped that too. I figured they would have had enough time to sort themselves out and fuck off, so the ring could be gone, but if there was still a chance, than why not. Both were still lying at the bottom of the stairs face down beside each other, I looked around for the ring, couldn't see it. One of them still had it. Neither was moving, and I didn't really like how they were able to maintain such awkward positions. I turned the first one over and it became apparent, his head flopped and gave into gravity fully. Great, now I gotta hide a body. I searched his pockets and found money, about five hundred, and a nice gold Zippo, but no ring. I turned the second guy over and realized he too had a broken neck. The good thing was, he had my ring. As I was placing the ring on my finger the guy who had been waiting outside had been creeping up the stairs and turned to see me looming over his dead friend with my back to him.

"Hands up fucker" He says, real aggressive like, walking towards me, "Or I blow yer fucking brains out right here and now." I wasn't about to have this shit-for-brains crackhead shoot me in the back of the head for the five hundred and twenty bucks I had in my pocket or the nice Zippo. I raised my hands slowly and waited for him to say something else. "Gimme everythi..," Spinning around I grab the barrel of his gun with my left hand and push his arm up in the air and to his right. He let out a gasp and grabbed the back of my shirt, pulling and ripping it. A shot went off, followed by another, both into the floors above. I twisted the barrel downwards and into his stomach. He leaned forward with surprisingly little resistance so I took the chance to bring my elbow down onto his temple with all the force I could muster. The moment my elbow impacted he flinched and a third shot went off, this time into his lower intestine. He screamed, released the piece of my shirt that he had managed to tear off and fell to his knees.

I tore the gun away from him and stepped back a few feet, breathing heavily I watched the man lie down and begin to cry. "I'm comin, I'll be there soon, I can almost feel it. Momma, I’m coming!" He continued to scream into the night air, the sound of his voice echoing through the dark corridor. "Lemme help." I said. His moaning stopped for a second and he looked at me. I raised the gun and fired once into his forehead. It was a big gun, a six shooter, the splash on the wall made it obvious it wasn't a sissy toy gun like a 9 mill. I pocketed it, spit on the body and walked away. There's just some people that don't get it, you don't go around pointing fucking six shooters at the back of other people’s heads. Fucking people. Luckily, I had a good lawyer, and claimed it was self defense; I got two years for shooting the guy in the head, it being deemed unnecessary measures by the courts. So in reality, he wasn’t that good of a lawyer, but it could have been worse.  ¶ 21:28 0 comments

  The City Chapter 3 I heard that most prisons are pretty much schools that graduated petty thugs into full fledged criminals. This was true. Organizations had recruiters come in and pick potential future members a few times every year, depending on race or social disposition it seemed like they would pick guys that looked not necessarily intimidating, but people that blended into a crowd, the non specific members were commonly picked up, their sentence ‘reduced’ by members that are working on the inside, and they’re given a place in the group, if they moved up, good on em, if they died, the recruiting process is repeated.

That was something learned within the first six months, before that I was obviously in the dark about many things, but I found my crowd, kept to myself, didn’t start shit but put up a hell of a fuckin fight if someone tried anything on me, and did what I had to do to survive. And then everything sort of clicked, one of those recruiters saw me get in a fight and that was it. He approached me after I’d gotten out of a sixty hour stay in solitary for beating another inmate into critical condition. He had it coming, but the warden was a toughass, which I didn’t really didn’t argue against. He’s the warden for fucksake, its part of the job. Regardless, it attracted some good attention.

Its lunchtime, we all get our meals and sit at out respective tables, determined solely on ethnic group, so naturally I sat with the white guys. The table is mostly occupied by this point in time; I get the end seat, adjacent to a guy name Mort, who’s been serving time for assault on multiple officers and across from an empty seat. As I’m eating, a guy I’d seen around before but never talked to walks over to the table with his tray and sits in front of me.
“You inarested in a job on the outside?” He asks quietly, he had an Irish undertone, and you could sort of tell just based on stereotypical impressions. Red bushy hair, lots of battle scars and something that resembled moonshine on his breath.
“What kind of job you talking about?” I ask, trying not to sound like a pompous piece of shit, just someone being cautious.
“We need a couple of good guys; got a couple big heists, need some people that can disappear real fast. You up for it boy?” At this point in my life, I figured ‘why the fuck not, it’s not like anyone’s going to miss me, and vice versa, family’s gone, don’t have a steady girl, don’t particularly feel the need for one, and where the hell am I going to get a job I can keep that pays well and requires little to no school credentials.’
“I’m in. What now?”
“We’ll worry about that in a few days, sit tight, I’ll get back to ya.” With that, we shook hands and he walked in the same direction he had come.

End result being I had to ‘off’ a couple of people in the prison. The were a few really easy kills, just guys in for getting caught with stuff like fraud, they duped the wrong people; people that believed imprisonment wasn’t deemed a worthy repentance. The hardest one, the hit that got me back on the streets was the staff sergeant for ward b. Each section has a rank structure. The staff sergeant was the guy that the chief officer assigns to delegate guards in accordance to the situation. Basically he was the guy that told everyone in ward B what to do; therefore it affected the treatment of the inmates. This sergeant had offended a family of organized criminals by apparently focusing abusive and excessive punishments specifically to members of this family.

A few weeks later I get the word that I’m being released on good behavior. Proof the system works, if it’s completely crooked. I was let out and didn’t hear anything for a few weeks, then, after finding a low rate apartment, having to deal small amount of cheap drugs to survive I finally got the call.
The phone rings at noon, I pick it up.
“Yeah?”
“Anitai, get ready, somebody’ll be here in five minutes. Black Mercedes Coupe. Bring a weapon.” And then the line goes dead. I pull on some pants, thought of what kind of weapon they were talking about. I had never really thought of picking up a piece, but I’m sure I’ll be able to get one offa one of my new connections.

I was waiting out front having a smoke when the coupe pulled up; I got in the left side back seat. There were three men in the car; I didn’t recognize any of them. The one in the front passenger seat turns around and takes off his sunglasses. “Anitai, you’ve shown the bosses you can hold your own, we’re going to be using you for some stuff that calls for gritty candidates.” I figured it was more of a compliment to be gritty than an insult, I nodded. “What do you need me to do?” The guy to my right pipes up, “This ain’t gonna be an easy task, we’re needing a few people taken out in their sleep, gotta look like a suicide, you’re the bitch in all this.”
“What the fuck you mean bitch?”
“Don’t get all prissy on me, the bitch is the one that’s gotta actually pull off the plan, we’re the one’s that are going to be telling you what to do, you just follow your instructions, we’re the fucking people that got you out of prison remember. You survive, don’t get caught, then you’re on your way to doing good in this business. If you die, or get caught and rat, which means you’re about as good as dead anyways, then, well, you just weren’t a good enough candidate. Got me?”
“Gotcha man.” That was the last word spoken on the ride. We approached an old factory on the far east of the town.
Turns out these people weren’t just any schmucks on the street, there were three senators that were getting a little too close to talking about some ‘government’ properties that had proven ‘beneficial’ to members of certain ‘public groups’. I heard this from the guy on the right as we were walking to the building from the parking lots. He used finger quotes upon mentioning his ‘key’ points to pretty much everything. It was an interesting quirk.

The doors in the front of the building had been chained shut years ago, there was a fire exit with a brick wedged in keeping the door open. I followed the lackeys into their mysterious Scooby Doo headquarters and down a set of stairs. The place was in pretty good condition on the inside, fully lit, surprisingly meager amount of grime considering the factory was probably close to a century old. There were many rooms leading down a hallway, doors shut except for one, which we walked towards. The guy on my left goes for the handle of the door adjacent to the ajar. “You’d think it be that one.” I said nodding towards the door to his right. “Yeah,” he says with a slight laugh. “What’s in the other one?” I asked. “Shotgun on a chair wired to the door.”

We walked into the room. I almost lost myself; it was like being in a fucking gangster movie. There were six guys sitting around the table playing poker and smoking cigars, pieces on the table three of em’ hairlined. They looked up from their haze of smoke. “Ooz dis?” the guy with the least darkest pair of sunglasses at the table says. “Anitai boss.” Righty says. “Anitai uh? I tawt youz was an Asian, good fuckin guys for this kind of shit. But hey, youz heard the fuckin rules right? You could still pull this off, ever got shot before?” A few of the guys around the table snicker a little. I just shook my head. “Well lemme tell youz dis boy. It fuckin hurts, get used to it.” With that he and his ‘crew’ were laughing, and then coughing, and then they caught their breath.

“Now, let’s get down to bizzniss boys. We’ve been figuring out how to off dese guys for some time now, and the boys ‘ave come up with a pretty fuckin airtight plan if youz ask me. We got ahold of some untraceable chem that can off a guy like it was a heart attack even after da autopsy n shit. We’z also been studying some of the blueprints to their houses, workplaces and commonalities, you know, like hang outs and shit, scopin out what time e’s usually doin certain ‘particular’ things.” They all did that fuckin ‘finger’ thing. “So ere’s what we’ve got. The first one, guy named Don Murray, fuckin cocksucker is the one that signed this deal in the first place, we get our labs for ‘experimentin’ and shit, and they get a forty percent cut in the money raised.” “experimentin?” I was curious. “Yeah, meth, blow, you know, now shaddup ya stupid fuck, I’m talking ere!” Brief silence. “ SO, youz is gonna be planting this shit in their drink whenever they happen to take one, got me?” “Gotcha.” He didn’t like that I didn’t show him too much respect. But I think he figured I was gonna get shot in the face pretty fast anyways so he didn’t really let it be known that it was pissing him off. “This whole fuckin thing is gonna take a while. We’re takin em out slowly, as to not raise too much suspicion. You’ll do this hit, and in a few weeks we’ll ave somethin else for ya.

Not like I had too much choice in the matter, but it was an acceptable job. You gotta do what you gotta do sometimes. It was all set up; there was a car that would be waiting for me in front of a designated coffee shop down the street from my place. I had been briefed; they had given me a floor plan of Murray’s residence, and a brief list of points of observation. Basically what time he had been reported doing what. IT was ten thirty when I got picked up, got a block away from the destination at about eleven. The driver stops the car and turns around. “Don’t fuck dis up. Got me?” We got five guys watching every fuckin move, you even so much as fart suspiciously and we’ll have a sniper shoot you through you the back of the head.” “Gotcha.” I said. I didn’t believe them about the snipers, but I figured that I would be better off just getting the job done and not fucking around.

The house was huge, luckily the layout was relatively basic, the plans were retained no problem. There were four doors into the house, all pretty well secured. Cameras and padlocks, two guards at the main entrance, it wasn’t supposed to be an easy task assassinating this guy… tbc.  ¶ 21:28 0 comments