I walked down the brightly lit main street, trying my best not to bleed to death. This is because, unfortunately, I’m no doctor. I attempted to disguise the blood by hiking my camo-patterern hooded-jacket over the wet, crimson area of the black Under-Armor t-shirt I was wearing. I knew that I’d have to find a place to lay myself up at until I stopped bleeding. It was a shame that most of the people I knew in the city either hated me, or just didn’t want me around. Most of those whom I’d consider friends were ‘contractors’ themselves, and I didn’t trust our friendship to hold up in the shadow of a mountain of cash.
That left only one guy, DW. He’d probably hate me for it, but he was my only choice. And lucky for me, he lived only a couple blocks down the street. I put my hood on and hoped that no one would see the large sword hanging off my back in the darkness. I avoided the street lights and started considering other weapons choices as I made my journey. Most of the people hanging around the streets were either horny college kids out to party or dealers still grinding to get a buck. Neither was known to ask questions.
In the distance I could see DW’s big, swanky condominium. He lived on the 4th floor with his lady-friend (who happened to be one of those people who hate me), whom he’d only allow me to call Peanut. I was never sure why. But then again, DW was a strange guy. A rich strange guy, granted. But still, I couldn’t understand how such a weirdo ever got the ‘trust’ or respect of the people he did business with. His racket was illegal arms dealing. He could get you any gun you needed, from anywhere, with any kind of ammunition, stock, attachment, site, silencer, you name, he could get it. He once told me about how some guy he sold an RPG demolished a city block in ten minutes, alone.
But much to DW’s chagrin, I wasn’t a customer of his. I met him when I was still in college. We were both Theatre majors. We also shared a minor in business. Guess which ones panned out for us? It’d been about a month since we last spoke, but I didn’t have time for greetings.
I approached the large building and buzzed his room. I waited and noticed that the blood was beginning to stain my jeans, the jeans I spent quite a bit of money on. I buzzed him again.
“What! What do you want!?” came a highly aggravated, somewhat cracked voice.
“Let me in… I’m calling in a favor.” I said in between coughs.
I heard a sigh from the other end of the com. “Damn it…” then the door gave a slight humming sound and unlocked. I struggled my way up the stairs and cursed God and DW for choosing such a high floor to live on. I knocked and was answered by DW dressed in about nothing more than a Fedora hat and a silk robe, “You just had to come to m-….” he stopped speaking as he looked at my waist and the blood drenching my right side. “Jesus, what happened to you?”
“I’m starting to wish I chose a job with health benefi-.” I dropped unconscious into the door way before I could finish my little quip. I woke up what I think was four or five hours later. My bandages had been changed and some kind of salve was stinking me up.
I looked around the room and was slightly annoyed by my luxurious surroundings, particularly the leather couch I awoke on. DW must have been rolling in it. For a second I thought he literally was as his light green robe shined in sunlight coming in from a panoramic window. He sat in a matching leather arm chair, looking at me as I woke up.
Then I heard that voice. “You’re alive. I don’t know whether to be happy or pissed…” I looked over another chair in the room. It was Peanut, that feisty red-head. I’m not sure if the look she was giving me was either disgusted or pissed. Either way, her eyes were shooting daggers at me. She was dressed in a matching robe to DW’s. “So when are you gonna leave?” she was tapping her foot as she spoke in an angry tone.
Before I could answer, DW spoke out, “It was another hitman, wasn’t it?” his expression was inquisitive. Something that most people didn’t see.
I cleared my dry throat. “Hitwoman, more like.” I said in a croaky baritone. “Almost blew my face off with a piece that I’m almost certain came from you.”
“Really now?” he said, interested with a raised eyebrow.
“Brunette, young one. Had a Browning Hi-Power up my nose. Vicky was her name.” I replied.
“Was? You mean you…” he crossed his throat with his thumb.
“I don’t know. Last time I saw her she was falling out a thirteen story window.” I smirked to myself. I had to admit, I was proud of myself. But then again, I hoped that Vicky had survived the fall. We had been acquaintances before the contract came out. She was a lively one. My conscience wished she was alive. After all, I was an assassin, not a murderer.
“Jeez, this James contract is really fucking with my business. That’s the second customer I’ve lost to one of you psychos.” He placed his hand over his eyes and massaged them.
“Who was the first one?”
DW looked up to me as Peanut passed by. “I’m getting some coffee, you want some hon?” she asked him.
“Sure, babe.” he replied. Peanut gave me a nasty look and walked out of the room. “Four of them. I heard it was four of them. Two vs. Two I hear. They were looking for info on James. By chance, the two pairs of ‘em checked this titi bar in the red-light district owned by a mob boss. A high paying customer, this guy liked to keep his boys armed to the teeth. Some shit happened where one pair, one of them a young looking black kid, the other some goofy looking blonde, asked one of the better known lieutenants about James. The other pair heard them asking.” he breathed out a deep sigh.
“And…?” I pushed for an answer. I needed some info on this stuff, for obvious reasons. Last thing I needed was surprises, which I had lots of.
“Alright… the other pair, some crazy woman with an even crazier guy, they pulled out mad guns. I mean, talk about armed to the teeth, they were strapped head to toe. They started unloading on the white-black pair. That’s really all I know. Some fire fight ensued and the entire bar was leveled. The mob boss was upstairs and caught a fifty caliber round in between the eyes some how.”
“What happened to the assassins?” I was becoming anxious.
“I don’t know. No one has seen any of them since the shit happened. They’re probably still out there…”
“Damn. They couldn’t have just killed each other, huh?”
“Exactly! And the worst part is, they haven’t come to me for ammo!” he said in a very sincere voice.
I shook my head. “You really only care about money, don’t you?”
“DW! Get your ass in here!” Peanut’s voice roared from the kitchen.
“… yeah, and that sweet thing in there.” he said as he departed the room quickly.
I sat up on the couch and looked out the window, onto the bustling Otaku City. I knew the guys DW was talking about. The black and white ones were a couple of gun slinging kids who went by White and Retribution. The other ones were legends. A kind of Bonnie and Clyde duo, Joe* and Annie*. Joe was a particularly terrifying person to hear about. It was a rumor that he did his business with a pair of SIG 552’s* in each hand.
I was beginning to have second thoughts about this job…
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*Joe = di.fm/Silpheed Pilot
*Annie = Tex/Athena
*SIG 552 is a modified NATO-issued assault rifle.
