Thursday, November 6, 2008

Partnership Troubles

Partnership Troubles

I may have been a bit hasty with my previous announcement. Partnerships actually can be a little tricky, especially when your partner is a douche bag. I thought I had found something special, and he's special alright, like in mental. He'd also better stay far away from me if he knows what's good for him. If I see him my plan is to hang him by his own intestines, or maybe make him eat one of his own ribs, or put him in a rock tumbler full of broken glass.

Let me explain what happened.

We contract our first job as a team, a very lucrative yet seemingly simple proposition. Apparently someone had stolen a lot of money from a wealthy family. Our job was to interrogate the man, find the money, kill him and dispose of the evidence, and then return the money, minus our commission of course. Even if we didn't find the money, our client would repay us our minimum fee just for killing the man. That fee went well into the six-figure range.

Everything started out well. We discovered the thief hanging out in a seedy hotel after only half a day of searching. Death Storm claimed to be a master interrogator, but he turned out to be just another thug from the streets. I guess I need to check more references next time. Pulling out people's teeth with pliers is cruel and messy. Besides, all that blood causes the subject to choke and stumble with his words. Interrogation is a fine art, creating the desire in the subject to share his secrets and to feel good about it. You don't just duct tape a guy down to a chair and raid the nearest tool shed.

Once we extracted the location of the money, Death Storm taped the guys face completely shut and we watched him choke to death on his own blood. DS taunted and ridiculed the poor man as he died, laughing like a hyena, which is fairly classless in my book. I would have at least given the guy a smoke or something, but DS was in a huge hurry, like the world would end if he didn't retrieve the money. I'd rather savor the moment. It's not everyday you see someone die (well for me it can be but every death is different).

We easily found the bus locker containing the bag of money. I knew that I was looking at a 7-figure payout easily. Not my best haul but far above average for this kind of operation. We're driving away when DS takes an exit far from our client's base of operations.

"Where I we going," I ask, instantly suspicious.

"Finding a place to count the money," he mumbled, not sounding convincing. We drive into an old warehouse district full of abandoned buildings. The car stutters over potholes and rails. On a particularly large bounce, I pull out my knife and jab it towards his throat. The blow would have killed him instantly but he had been trained. He must have sensed me tensing because he grabbed my arm and banged it on the steering wheel, knocking the knife loose.

"What the fuck you stupid bitch," he cried. I tried to elbow his jaw and he blocked that too. What ensued was a couple of seconds of punching, scratching, and clawing until the vehicle turned hard left and slammed into the corner of a warehouse. Death Storm's head impacted the steering wheel and I jumped out of my side of the car, bruised but nothing broken. I whipped out my gun and put a couple slugs into the wall outside the driver's door.

"Now get out slowly, Storm, and let me see your hands!" I shouted at the daze man. He pushed open his damaged door with his legs and emerged with a trickle of blood coming out of his nose.

"Hey! Hey, E-Gal!" He calls me E-Gal for short. So cute sometimes. "C'mon, I'm on the level here! We just need a place to sort the money. Put that damn thing away."

"Over here and down on the ground! NOW!" He smiled at me but I smelled a rat. He took a step towards the spot I indicated then stopped, his eyes peering behind me and a chuckle coming from his throat. I didn't want to fall for that trick, but the subtle sound of steps behind me convinced me he wasn't fooling.

In an instant I ducked and rolled while gunfire erupted all around me. I sprang up and zigzagged towards the nearest doorway, hearing the snap of bullets passing within inches of my head. Fortunately I'm not the largest of targets, and the adrenaline coursing through my veins gave me an extra step or two. I dove through the doorway and hustled myself over to some cover. My breath came ragged and deep.

"Come out here, bitch!" he yelled at me. "And we'll show you some good fun."

I heard snickering from outside and twinged at a couple gunshots.

"Go fuck yourselves," I yelled. "And you'd better leave me my share of the fucking money!"

"Hey, I got a car to pay for!" Bullshit, that car was stolen. "You and your fuckhead client will never see a dime of this money! Bitch!"

Ooo...I was pretty mad. Nothing worse than getting swindled on the deal. I heard a car approach and stop.

"You take my money and you're a dead man," I yelled out but I just heard some expletives and gunshots aimed in my general direction. The car doors slammed shut and the car gunned off. Carefully I approached the door, wary of any tricks or traps, but they simply had driven off with all the money. My entire reputation as an assassin lay at stake. I have to do something to get that money back and exact my revenge.

Death Storm, if you're out there, then you'd better start running because I'm coming to get you. You have no idea what you're up against. You'll never see me coming, and by the time you realize I've arrived it will be too late.

Posted: Thursday, November 7, 2008 @ 11:55 PM

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