This is a story I started a while ago. I finally got around to writing the 3rd chapter. The main character is basically half Johnny Bravo, half Bullseye with a twist... Tell me what you think...
BAD ASSASSIN (CH 1-3)
â€œ*vulgarity* itâ€¦â€ said Jonny as he flicked the half finished cigarette on the sleazy bar floor.
He ran his fingers through his oversized blond pompadour and adjusted his shades.
It was time to kill someone. He also had to buy a mountain dew.
He looked down at his clothes and hoped he didnâ€™t stand out too much. A black tank top and black blazer jacket, some faded jeans and a tie. He was strapped with his favorite Thursday piece, a Ruger Blackhawk .44 magnum with pistol scope. The scope was purely for looks though, it looked sweet but was completely unnecessary â€“ Jonny hadnâ€™t missed a shot in years.
He had been 12 years old when he had discovered his knack. Any shot, with any gun he made, he had an exact 99% chance to hit his target dead on. Another knack he had realized was his also uncanny ability to dodge nearly any projectile coming his way, he would do so 99% of the time, whether he was aware of the attack or not. Sometimes he would flinch for some unknown reason and an object would whistle past, exactly where he had been.
When Jonny turned 18 he got in an argument with his parents and was forced to move out. He had told them that he didnâ€™t care what they thought, he was going to be an assassin for hire, he felt that it was hisâ€¦â€™callingâ€™. They both wanted him to join the Army and use his skills to serve his country, but Jonny just wasnâ€™t feeling it. All the push-ups and yelling and the ugly looking uniform, hell no, he was going to make some serious cash as a professional killer. He could dress however the hell he pleased and choose his jobs - once his deadly skills became known.
His code of conduct was simple: 50,000-250,000 dollars depending on how accessible his target was and he would only kill what he deemed â€˜Losers, pricks or muther*vulgarity*ers that deserve itâ€™.
He put an ad out in the classifieds under â€˜miscellaneousâ€™ : Pro Hitman LFW, 99% success rate, confidentiality guaranteed, call for details, serious inquiries only!
A week later and he had received 5 calls in totalâ€¦ all of which were from total wackos or kids messing around. He was starting to think about moving to a more dangerous city, somewhere he could get easy contracts. He was lounging back on his couch flipping though channels when a cautious knock came at his door.
Jonny got up and looked through the peephole. There was a young woman outside of his apartment, nervously looking from side to side and fidgeting with something in her pockets. He opened up the door and stood there looking at her.
â€œYea, you need something?â€
She opened her eyes wide and started to speakâ€¦
â€œUhm I was looking forâ€¦ You see I have this â€¦ problemâ€¦â€
Jonny sighed and motioned for her to enter the room. She came in and he told her to grab a seat.
â€œYou want something to drink?â€
She nodded yes and he poured her a vodka and cranberryâ€¦ Maybe it would chill her out, plus she was pretty damn good-looking he thought as he gave her a sight nod and raised his left eyebrow. She looked about 22 years old with round hips and big brown eyes, a cute face covered in freckles and her hair tied back.
â€œSooooâ€¦. This problemâ€¦uhhhâ€
He motioned his hands in a symbol that couldnâ€™t be mistake for anything but â€˜whatâ€™s your nameâ€™. â€œVanessaâ€ She said.
â€œSo Vanessaâ€¦ is it good?â€ He pointed at the drink before continuing.
â€œI hope you know.. I mean that youâ€™re clear on what it is exactly that I doâ€¦â€ He turned his head slightly to the side and tugged on his tie. She looked at the floor and took a long pull off the stout drink. She looked at him searchingly and began her story.
â€œSo, whatever I tell you.. you have to seriously swear that you will not saying a word to anyone! OK? So anyways, my boyfriend is this big time cop right? He was a bit older than me, and I donâ€™t honestly know how we even got togetherâ€¦â€
â€œHe was always flashing all this money around and he seemed very important.. he knew so many people. I didnâ€™t think that much about it and he treated me soooo good at first, he bought me all these things and said I was the most important thing in the world to him.â€
She shook her head.
â€œIt turns out I was just one of dozens of girls he did this with, one night at his house he held me down and injected me with this... this drug or somethingâ€¦ I almost passed out, I couldnâ€™t move, he told me that I was his and that if I ever tried to get away heâ€™d bury me like he had done to countless other girls that pissed him off in the past.â€
She closed her eyes and shook her head.
â€œIt turns out he is not just a high ranking detective, but also the brother of a top Mafia don in this city. He is pure scum and I KNOW he has killed a lot of people. He wants to turn me into his druggy hooker that he can just use and throw away when heâ€™s tired of me. Please, please help me.. I sold a necklace he gave me for 500 dollars, thatâ€™s all the money I have. I ran away, and.. and..â€
She looked like she was trying not to cry.
Jonny felt a tinge on remorse for this poor girl, he thought about what she had said thoughâ€¦ the cop part bothered him, it was sure to draw A LOT of attention, especially if he was as important as she seemed to think he was.
The girl continued â€œ I went to my parents house and they were.. gone.. just goneâ€¦ their car was still in the drive and the door was kicked in.. I know he had them killed as a warning!â€
Jonny pursed his lips and paused before speaking. â€œAlrightâ€¦lookâ€¦ keep the 500 bucksâ€¦â€
Jonny shrugged nonchalantly. â€œItâ€™s cool ok. I â€˜m going to waste this guy for you alrightâ€¦ just relax!â€
He went back to a corner in the room and opened a safe hidden under a tablecloth. â€œYou are very lucky, you know? You just stumbled into theâ€¦ not to sound full of myselfâ€¦ but pretty much the worldâ€™s number one kick-ass killer!â€
She looked at him quizickly, she imagined an assassin would be cold, quiet and scary in person. This young man seemed just like any guy she might have run into in high school.
Jonny had a pistol for each day of the week inside the safe and a sawed off 12 gauge for Sundays. He pulled out his Thursday special and a notepad and pen.
â€œLet me get some details on this guy.. I need a photo, address and anything you know about who he rolls with.â€
The girl thought to herself â€˜This poor dumb ass is going to walk in there with a gun.. and get himself killedâ€™, she looked at the floorâ€¦ it all seemed so unreal. Jonny looked at the young lady and read her desperate and disappointed expression.
He fumbled in his pockets and pulled out a dime. â€œCheck this out!â€
He pointed to an empty coke bottle some 40 feet across the room from him on a desk. He snapped his fingers and the dime sailed across the room to land with a click inside the bottle. Vanessaâ€™s eyes opened wider when she saw the bottle was Â¾ the way full of loose change already.
Jonny looked down at his hands and said quietly. â€œYea Iâ€™m specialâ€¦ different or whatever you want to call itâ€¦ mutantâ€¦ prodigyâ€¦ giftedâ€¦ what have you..â€
He smiled â€œLife is like a video game for me, and I got all the codes.â€
Jonny took a quick shower, yelling from the bathroom door to Vanessa who was still sitting on the couch. â€œHey, go ahead and make yourself another drink if you want.. Thereâ€™s some Chinese in the fridge if you are hungry.. I eat it a lot!â€
Vanessa replied. â€œMy boyfriend probably has guys out looking for me right now! He might have even seen me come here!â€
Jonny yelled back. â€œReally? Heâ€™ll be dead soon enough... let me just get my hair right.â€ He grabbed a katana in a sheath with a shoulder strap from out of his bathroom closet and threw in on his back.
â€œMmmmm nawww tooâ€¦.â€
He took the katana off and pulled out instead a pair of folding throwing knives and stuck them in his socks. He grabbed his scoped Ruger and put it in a concealed holster at the back of his waistband.
Next he drew out a suitcase and opened it, revealing a prized possession. A pair of H&K VP-70 pistols, converted to full auto with extra extended magazines in a magazine pouch.
â€œJust in case he doesnâ€™t go quietlyâ€
Last but not least Jonny went into the kitchen and pulled open a hidden drawer from under the sink. He had removed the barrels and actions from a right and left handed SPAS shotgun and welded them together, fitting them with a folding stock and extra wide grip pump.
â€œAhhh yeaâ€¦ babyâ€™s coming out to playâ€¦â€
He pumped the beastly shotgun, chambering 2 rounds.
Jonny pulled up an excel spreadsheet at began typing out how the scenario would be enacted.
â€œThe big bad wolf is the target, and with him heâ€™s got the 3 little piggies.. his bodyguardsâ€¦ with him at all times. Highly armed and trained, they are the best money can buy... except me!â€
He gazed up at Vanessa from under his shades
â€œI tell you, youâ€™re getting a hell of a deal!â€
He pointed at the screen and continued.
â€œThis is Jackâ€™s Pork Palace, a barbeque ribs joint with a kind of sleazy saloon vibe to it, it also happens to be right next door to a Dunkinâ€™ Donutsâ€¦ Just like magicâ€¦ your boyfriendâ€¦ uh I mean this soon-to-be dead creepâ€¦ he is GOING to be here tonight. And when he shows his fat porky little faceâ€¦ well Iâ€™m going to make a ham sandwich.â€
Jonny threw the shotgun in a guitar case and slung it over his back and left to get into his car.
2 hours later:
Jonny knew the four obese men knew he was watching them. One of them gave him a mean look and said in a thick accent.
â€œAyyy whatcha lookin at ya lil bahstard?!â€
The plump man grabbed out at a passing waitress, harassing her in a very crude and trashy fashion. Sensing the youth still looking at his direction he got to his feet and stuck his hand inside his coat breast.
â€œYou..you gotta *vulgarity*in problem they asshole.. ???â€
Jonny looked at his large cup of mountain dew and took a long slurp off the straw.
â€œYea.. I guess I DO got a problem alright. Itâ€™s your *vulgarity*in face.â€ He stated matter-of-factly.
The fat bodyguard turned beet red and whipped out a Beretta and started blasting away (he was high on coke and was on home turf anyway).
Jonny looked like he was doing some weird rave dance impression, like some 80â€™s dance step like the robot.
The thug emptied his magazine at point blank rangeâ€¦ to no avail, all 15 rounds missed their mark.
The piggish man had a gaping sneer on his face and he looked firsts at the gun in his hand then at the dancing young man. Jonny spun his guitar case up in the air and the cover flew off, sending the twirling behemoth shotgun directly into his grasp.
The thug gasped.
Jonny broke the stunned silence.
â€œProblem solved I guessâ€¦ now you gentlemen have a nice day.. and uhâ€¦ go *vulgarity* yourself!â€
He turned and began to walk away from the stunned table, faces spattered in blood and mouths agape, not unlike some large goldfish separated from the comfort of their aquatic home.
Jonny pumped the shotgun sending a pair of smoking plastic shells skittering off the table and across the blood soaked floor.
â€œOh yea, one last thing, I got to kill one of youâ€¦ whoâ€¦â€
He paused and pulled the photo out of his pocket and matched it to the obese face of its owner, still wide mouthed in front of him.
â€œLook... you made some people pretty madâ€¦ plus you look like humpty dumpty, so the way *I* look at itâ€¦ Iâ€™m actually doing you a Favor!â€
He, in a spontaneous display of showboating, decided to further his reputation with a little trick. He slung his shotgun over his back and walked away, out the front door and got into his car. He threw the shotgun in the back seat and drove down the street. At the stoplight he took a left turn and proceeded to drive down a small hill.
About half a mile later he reached in his pocket and pulled his .44 out of his belt and without so much as a glance, fired off into the horizon behind his car. He put the gun away and stopped at a little Chinese restraint that happened to have an extremely convenient drive-thru. He ordered some General Tsoâ€™s chicken and a large Fanta and continued on until he reached his apartment. As he opened the door he caught the end of news flash, which Vanessa was intently focused on.
â€œâ€¦After which, the brutal killer, then fled the scene of the crime, pausing only to taunt the friends of the slain officerâ€¦ some 5 minutes later an accomplice fired a sniper shot from a concealed location, which struck down Detective Greg Thompson with pinpoint accuracy.. if you have any information that could possibly be used to help us apprehend these vicious cop-killersâ€¦ the community and the victimâ€™s families in particular would be extremely gratefulâ€¦ now howâ€™s the weather Susan?â€
Bad Assassin Ch 2
The best assassins were always the people you'd suspect absolutely last:
A smiling soccer mom, dropping the kids off at church...
The friendly manager at a local restaurant named â€˜just call me Bobâ€™ Smith...
Your gravelly-voiced waitress, asking if you'd like some more coffee with that 'hun'...
Jonny knew all the tricks in the book, he had learned from the best: Hitman, Assassinâ€™s Creed, hell... even good old 007.
Jonny reached over and turned up the radio, his favorite station - LAPD NEWS aka police scanner. Even if he didnâ€™t find out a single useful fact, it was always entertaining. Jonnyâ€™s ears had perked up at an especially promising tidbit that crackled from the speakers.
â€œSeveral officers slainâ€¦chhhâ€¦.chhhâ€¦ongoing manhuntâ€¦â€
Jonny smiled broadly, his handiwork no doubt, he was officially â€˜Notoriousâ€™ now.
â€œPossible sighting ofâ€¦chhhâ€¦. female suspectâ€¦â€.
Jonnyâ€™s eyebrows raised perplexedly, â€œWhat the fucâ€¦? Looks like thereâ€™s another player in the gameâ€¦â€.
Jonny didnâ€™t give it too much thought; other matters were on his mind. Like the â€˜lucrative profession contractâ€™ he had been asked to discuss. The buyer wanted to meet in a high class downtown club at midnight. He checked the time -2310 hours- the club should just be getting warmed up by now.
Business and pleasure-they go so good togetherâ€¦or whatever the saying was, Jonny grinned.
The music was unbearably loud.
It was that trance or new wave stuff, you know, the stuff that sounds like a heartbeat magnified to a degree that would stop yours.
Jonny was leaning across the bar, slouching in a typical slacker fashion, casually balancing a trendy drink in his left hand. Everyone here was dressed up a bit, not surprising considering the 250.00 cover charge. Jonny had on all-white suit, with corsage and a pair of green shades, visor-style.
Jonnyâ€™s fake ID had been a little suspect, but he had suavely smooth-talked his way through, aided by a generous donation â€˜to those who serve and protectâ€™. He knew he would be frisked on entry so he had left anything indiscrete back in the safe at home. He had something *quite* discrete taped to his right forearm though. A miniature CO2 tank glued to a thin plastic tube, in which was lodged a cluster of needles suspended in a highly toxic gel; essentially a suppressed, home-made shotgun with an added poison punch. He also had several sharpened ceramic shards with electrical tape grips for throwing, or as a last ditch melee weapon.
Jonny looked down disdainfully at the drink he had been nursing for the last half hour. His first and last sip had reminded him of a time in school when he had accidently drank a mouthful of chlorinated pool water... yea, that good.
He felt a most unpleasant sensation - a strong hand grasping his shoulder in an authoritative and condescending fashion. Jonny closed his eyes and imagined the words that would follow such a bold action.
â€œAlright son, letâ€™s have a talk!â€
Indeed, the words echoed a second later from the mouth of the suited man standing behind him.
â€˜Goddamn itâ€¦ why donâ€™t I pay more attention to my surroundingsâ€™ thought Jonny.
Jonny turned and faced the grey-haired and hard-faced gentleman standing behind him. There were 2 others, also in suits and with haircuts and broadly smiling faces that would suggest tough football coaches whoâ€™s teams had just won an important play-off game.
The lead detective (Jonny assumed) spoke first. â€œHi there son, let me introduce myselfâ€¦â€
Jonny interrupted him. â€œYeaâ€¦ I killed himâ€¦â€ He stated lackadasically.
Jonny set his drink down and mouthed the words â€˜check pleaseâ€™ to the bartender.
â€œLetâ€™s not make a big scene okâ€¦ am I under arrestâ€¦?â€
The lead manâ€™s smile disappeared. He grabbed Jonny forcefully and pulled him close and whispered angrily. â€œJust what the hell are ya thinkinâ€™ son, you just confessed to murder to a total stranger! Do you think that youâ€™re living in same kind of GAME world???â€
Jonny replied. â€œYea itâ€™s called Grand Theft Autoâ€¦ you older guys might not have heard about itâ€¦â€
The man looked angry and confused, like an elderly drill instructor who couldnâ€™t understand what his recruit was saying.
Jonny resented being manhandled but there was no need to get blood on his white suit, also maybe these guys would say something interesting.
â€œLook here sonâ€¦ my colleagues and I have done a little research.â€ He pulled out a manila folder from his coat breast. â€œYour name is Jonny â€¦Death?? Now what the hell kind of name is that???â€
Jonny sighed. â€œIt used to be Robertson, but I paid the 50 bucks to have it changed to something with a little more kick to it, ya know?â€
â€œAlright now Jonny, we know all about you and what youâ€™ve done. We have a proposition for you as well. We would like very much if we could all sit down somewhere and discuss a few things with youâ€¦ now how does that sound son?â€
He sounded like a cross between Mr. Rogers offering a kid an ice cream and John Wayne telling off some punk.
Jonny looked at his cell and checked his messages. â€œYa, I guess I could do thatâ€¦â€
They all moved to a quieter corner booth where the older men wasted a bunch of Jonnyâ€™s time getting comfortable, ordering food and drinks and making small talk.
â€œNow Jonnyâ€¦ you ever play sports son?â€ He paused and gave a slow grin.
â€œCourse ya have sport!â€ He chucked Jonnyâ€™s elbow.
â€...Well in sports thereâ€™s always a winning team and a losing team, we just want to make sure you donâ€™t end up playing for the wrong team nowâ€¦thatâ€™s all we want, honest son!â€
Jonny pulled his green tinted shades down showing his less than amused expression.
â€œAw gee Pa! Thatâ€™s all you wanted???â€ He stated in the most sarcastic voice he could muster. â€œLook, just cuz Iâ€™m 19 doesnâ€™t mean I donâ€™t have a brain. Letâ€™s talk cashâ€¦ who, where and how much?â€
The older man coughed and pulled out a photo from his vest, laying it face down on the table.
The man let Jonny take the photo and spoke in a lower tone. â€œ6â€¦ and make it look like an accident.â€
Jonny looked at the picture. A young, 20-something girl with light, reddish-brown hair and bracers. She looked like a girl Jonny would much rather ask on a date than kill in any manner.
â€œ6 whatâ€¦â€ Jonny pursed his lips.
â€œSix. Thousand. Dollars.â€ The man stated like it was the dramatic solution to a murder mystery that had been the big question the whole movie.
Jonny stifled the urge to laugh, yet skillfully maintained his straight face, feigning extremely renewed interest.
â€œOh REALLY...?! Now you've got my attention!! Listenâ€¦ Iâ€™m gonna need some basic infoâ€¦ like the victimâ€™s telephone numberâ€¦ if you have itâ€¦â€
The man gave Jonny a sheet of paper with a brief listing of useful info. Name, height, weight, address andâ€¦. Yes, phone number.
Jonny put the paper and the picture into his pocket.
â€œThanks for the hook-up guys, it wasnâ€™t exactly a pleasure doing businessâ€¦ and I donâ€™t expect Iâ€™ll see any of you again. Now if youâ€™ll excuse me, I have important matters to attend to!â€
One of the colleagues whispered furiously in the first manâ€™s ear. They quickly settled their little argument and the man sighed and spoke to Jonny again.
â€œLook son, this place is kind of stuffyâ€¦ why donâ€™t we step outside and get a little fresh air?â€
Jonny thought to himself. Ok, lets go in a back alley and then we can kill you out of sight, could you be a little less obvious?!
â€œNo, I like it in here better, allergies you know!â€ Said Jonny. He hoped that they wouldnâ€™t try and grab him or knife him, projectiles were his specialty, not up close brawling.
Jonny sneezed suddenly and a puff of dust erupted from the headrest where his head had just been. One of the men had just fired a silenced 9mm from a concealed coat pocket. Jonny leapt up from the table and dived towards a nearby booth as subsonic rounds tore up the furnishings and filled the air with dust and wood fragments.
Jonny aimed his right wrist at the group of men from under the table and rapidly jammed the firing switch on his makeshift shotgunâ€¦ â€œPiece of junk!â€ He hissed, squirming in his seat as rounds impacted all around him. The launcher went off with a loud pop and Jonny saw the menâ€™s eyes open wide in pain as their legs were riddled with the high velocity needles.
Jonny waited a few seconds before cautiously holding a pocket mirror around the corner and scanning the area. The 3 men were convulsing in pain, eyes bulging from their faces. No one else seemed to be in the dining area. The deafening throb of the trance music had covered all traces of sounds from what had just occurred. He wrenched the 9mm out of the grip of the convulsing would-be killer and snatched the manila folder with his info from the first manâ€™s coat.
He glanced down the hall to the dancing area, still fully packed, their waiter was out of sight somewhere. He finished each of the twitching men off with a single round to the skull. Then he wiped the gun down with a napkin and placed it back in the original shooterâ€™s hand.
He grabbed a pen out and scribbled a quick note on the table for the waiter.
-The food was so awful we all killed ourselves, sorry about the messâ€¦hope the tip is sufficient.
He threw a 100 dollar bill on the table and walked out. He glanced back at the photo, whatever she had done, it could have cost her lifeâ€¦ Jonny wanted to know whyâ€¦
Bad Assassin Ch 3
Craig Johnson was a mature and practical man, with little time for playing games or any other childish nonsense. Most days were the same; a hard dayâ€™s work, following by returning home to eat a wholesome family meal that his wife Cheryl cooked up. Then heâ€™d likely catch a game with a cold one, or perhaps get out in the garage and get his hands dirty doing some work on his truck. Preventive maintenance was not only one of his favorite hobbies, but really the glue that kept his life on track. Few people really realized how important good, repetitive maintenance was for the equipment and machinery they relied on in their everyday lives.
His appearance was plain, straight to the point and practically said â€œI am a man who doesnâ€™t appreciate games or nonsense!â€
His typical outfit was a basic blue cap with the Ford logo on it, a square looking jaw and trimmed mustache. This went well with a basic brown work coat and grey athletic undershirt that a serious adult might be seen wearing; you know, someone like a sports coach or an Army officer. Plain dark blue jeans were his leggings of preference, not too loose like some kind of undisciplined â€˜gangsterâ€™ might wear and free from and rips or tears that might detract from a professional appearance.
Craigâ€™s foot wear tended to be one of two options. Either a pair of rugged work boots, ideal for serious manual labor or working in the garage; or else a well worn pair of plain Nike running shoes which he felt added an extra â€˜athleticâ€™ look to his overall appearance.
Craig wasnâ€™t really aware of it, but his appearance and mannerisms were subtly molded by the ubiquitous media surrounding him. This was common for many adults, yet not really fully realized. It was as much a superficial display as a rock starâ€™s flamboyant and eye-catching attire.
The insinuation of â€˜how a ___ aged man/woman should be perceivedâ€™ could be found anywhere people cared to look. If you were to watch a sit-com, sports program, mainstream film or advertisement and observe the example of the â€˜typicalâ€™ American father in a â€˜typicalâ€™ family you might see a template for actions, spoken mannerisms and style of dress that are deemed â€˜appropriateâ€™; and thus society, in its constant tribal mass-mind, rejects those who deviate from this across all age, social and gender groups.
Craig Johnson didnâ€™t really bother himself with commercial psychology; criminal psychology was really his thing. Craig was an FBI agent, which, by the hand of fate, thrust him inevitably into the role of antagonist in this story of our young slacker assassin.
â€œJohnson! Looks like you got another case here!â€ Agent Philips passed by Craigâ€™s desk and threw a manila folder onto it. Craig studied the contents briefly before standing up and putting his faded blue Ford cap on.
â€œEyuuuh... Looks like Iâ€™m going to Los Angelesâ€¦ got a long drive ahead ah me!â€
â€œI feel for you man, Dallas to L.A. is a hell of a trip!â€
Craig got into his Ford F-350 extended cab, leaned back in his seat and turned on some country-western before getting out on the open road.
While he drove he called his wife Cheryl and told her the bad news.
â€œHoney, you ainâ€™t gonna believe this, but they got me workin this job up in Los Angeles, I probably ainâ€™t gunna be back till Thursday!â€
He looked through the dossier and photos for the case. Capital murder, a police officer no less, and three more suspected homicides a week later. This had all the markings of a serial killer, he thought to himself.
The suspectâ€™s modus operandi seemed to be getting in close proximity to his intended target, engaging them with his â€˜smart-assâ€™ sarcasm, then dispatching the victim in a cold-blooded and carefree manner.
â€œWorst thing about it is itâ€™s just some punk kid killing all these people...â€ He muttered to himself. â€œJonny, you are gunna be one saaaaad sombich when I get done with ya!â€
He cranked the radio up a few notches and sang along with the twangy drawl that filled the truck cab.
â€œI think Iâ€™ll kill a cop today!â€
Jonny squinted his eyes beneath his sunglasses and flicked his lighter twice before it finally lit, then took a deep drag off his cigarette.
â€œWhatdâ€™ya say babe?â€
The girl across from him chewed on a nail and rolled her eyes up and to the side as she attempted to put the thoughts she was thinking into words.
Her name was Gabi and this was their first date. Gabi was a 22 year old ex-NSA agent who had agreed to go out with Jonny after they had met by chance in a computer store. She was aware enough of the psychology and behavior of teenage males to know that he was putting on an act in an effort to try and impress her. He was 19 and acting like it.
Gabi was dressed in a casual business blouse and miniskirt, she wore glasses and her blonde hair was done up in a ponytail. She looked like the bookworm of the pair, fairly accurate considering her background as an encryption analyst for the aforementioned government agency.
â€œUhâ€¦ Maybe you should just try and, you know, take it easyâ€¦ Killing a cop is pretty serious and even if you could get away with itâ€¦ cops are people too!â€
She was vaguely aware that Jonny had some sort of criminal background; however, he was nicely dressed and seemed like a gentlemen otherwise, if there was a warrant out for his arrest her plan was to act as if she didnâ€™t know anything about it.
Another factor in this desire to remain inconspicuous as possible was the fact that her employment with the NSA had ended on a sour note. The briefcase that she was tightly snuggling under her arm contained a high-tech prototype of a mobile decryption device. She had not gained the device by lawful means. In fact, she imagined bleakly, there was probably even more likely a warrant for HER arrest than her suave young scofflaw companion.
â€œWell, yeaâ€¦ I guess youâ€™re right. Wannaâ€¦ uh see a movie then?â€ He leaned back against the wall behind him and exhaled a cloud of smoke.
His attempt to quit smoking had failed miserably with the stress of this first date, compounded further by thoughts about the ongoing F.B.I. manhunt that had followed in the wake of the recent murders he had committed.
Jonny only killed people because it was cool. And he got paid to do it. His main concerns in life at this particular stage didnâ€™t really go much deeper than dating, having fun, dressing nice and the thrill of the video game he considered his life to be.
Jonny was wearing a dark navy blue suit with a white tie and his Ray-Bans. Under his left arm, in a snuggly tailored shoulder rig, he had a custom Mini-Uzi in matte-black with a folding stock and night vision scope. The 25-round magazine lay flat against his ribs under the jacket, its cold boxy shape providing a comforting reminder to the wanted young killer.
He took out his cell and dialed the mallâ€™s theatre complex for the movie times, and was left with a tough decision. A violent action comedy by John Woo sounded like tantalizing entertainment. However he had seen Gabi leafing through a romance novel as they had been browsing a bookstore. He decided maybe he should just bite the bullet and take his date to see a sappy romantic tear-jerker starring some annoying pop singer and a former action star.
He checked through his email and a spark of hope popped up. There was a forty thousand dollar hit out on a wealthy telecommunications czar, one Mr. Doyle Eggbert, listed as residing at an address within a 10 minute drive of the mall. Apparently Mr. Eggbert had been indicted in a high-profile molestation trial and was bringing unwanted heat to some of his less savory underworld acquaintances.
If the movie became unbearable, he would just excuse himself and go whack this guy in a quick and professional manner and then return to the theater before the film ended. He could just say that he had gone to grab a bite to eat; a quick stop at a Hardeeâ€™s drive through would make his story complete.
They bought their tickets to â€˜A Path Not Forgottenâ€™ and a tub of popcorn and went into the dark theatre to find some good seats.
The previews set the tone; watching them was like power-chugging a 2-liter bottle of pure maple syrup while crying your eyes out at the funeral of a new-born puppy, or some equally emotionally manipulative dreck.
The feature film itself started off with this perfect young â€˜princessâ€™ who somehow catches AIDS while helping a kindly homeless man find the strength he needs through Jesus. A bit later the rebellious and quite obvious main love interest of the heart-broken girl entered the film with a screech of burning tires and a display of uncaring â€˜coolâ€™ sarcasm. Jonny groaned under his breath, he could see it now, â€œLet me guess, he quits his bad boy ways to be with the dying girl, because even though they canâ€™t have sex, he loves her and is willing to reform so that he can spend his time filling her last days with happiness and hope, while giving her a chance to experience all the things sheâ€™d always wished she could do before she diesâ€¦â€, Jonny thought to himself. His guess kept edging closer and closer to a supernatural precognition of the events of the story as they unfolded.
â€œUhhh hey you know what baby? I think I might have already seen thisâ€¦ Iâ€™m thinking about grabbing a bite to eat really quick, you want anything?â€
She looked at him and he could tell her eyes were moist with sentimentality. She shook her head. Jonny considered blowing off his mission, â€œwas this the important part of a date?â€ Still the dialogue he was being forced to endure was acutely painful to him, like dental work minus anesthesia.
â€œUh, yea my stomach is kinda hurting, I really need something to eat! Iâ€™ll be back in like 20 minutes ok? Wait for me alright?â€
Jonny sped through downtown traffic, blaring some intense tunes to get him pumped up after the mood-killing film he had been sitting through. He fumbled through the glove box and pulled out the only suppressor modified gun he happened to have brought with him â€“ a Desert Eagle chamber for sub-sonic .357 magnum rounds.
No cops in sight, they would probably take at least 5 minutes to respond through this traffic Jonny estimated. He cruised down the elegant and florid avenue with its overhanging tree branches providing a constant relaxing shade, and pulled up to a large iron gate with a video monitor which shared the same address as the one listed in the short message.
â€œDamn... gated community!â€
The wall looked scalable however, thanks to a nearby tree leaning partially over the top, its branches extending to the estate on the other side.
He left his car running double parked in the street and deftly sprinted up the side of the tree and flipped over into the grass beyond the wall in a 3 point landing. His right hand held the silenced magnum just under his jacket. Hopefully no one had seen him.
He drew a plastic trash bag out of his jacket and pulled some athletic clothes from it; a pair of running shoes, shorts and a tank top and head-band. As quickly as possible he changed clothes behind a swing set in some rich vacationing yuppieâ€™s back yard. He left the bag next to the wall and began jogging around the long oval drive that ran though the picturesque community.
Jonny came to the house and ran up to the front door. Now the hard part; ring the bell or just kick it down? He opted for choice two and the door flew open with a swift and sturdy mule kick.
An alarm immediately sounded. Jonny winced, â€œlooks like thereâ€™s no need for this nowâ€, he pulled the silencer off the barrel of the Desert Eagle.
He heard a door slam upstairs and the sounds of cursing. A second later a fat balding man, not unlike an irate Rodney Dangerfield, appeared from around the corner. His pants were around his ankles and he was holding a newspaper in one hand and an antique shotgun in the other, a lit cigar was in his mouth and he looked very angry at being disturbed.
He huffed with red-faced outrage at the young intruder, â€œYa lidda coksuka ya broke my door!â€ The newspaper fell to the ground as he grabbed the shotgun in both hands and pulled both triggers at once.
Jonny had simply ducked to the side of the entrance as the shotgun was raised, his evasion powers had played no part in his survival; a good thing since his 99% dodge rate would, by inevitable statistical certainly, eventually fail him.
Jonny stepped back into the door way and crossed over the shattered door lying in the hall.
â€œAre you Doyle Eggbert?â€ He asked the shaken man.
â€œYOU GET THE HELL OUTTA MY HOUSE YA LIDDA BASTAD!!!!!â€ The cigar flew to the carpet in a spray of spittle.
The sight of Jonnyâ€™s Desert Eagle drained the blood from the beet-red face, â€œUh...uh...yea... yea... thatâ€™s meâ€¦ Uh lissenâ€¦ I got some cashâ€¦â€
â€œIâ€™m sure you do, youâ€™d have to to live in a place like this right?â€ Jonny chuckled and the pistol in his hand bucked twice as he shot the obese man through the heart. The second shot tore the liquid pulp that had once been Mr. Eggbertâ€™s pituitary gland out the back of his skull in a shower of meat and bone fragments.
â€œDone and done!â€ Jonny snapped up a close up photo of the deceased corpse on his cell and send it to the original sender of the contracting email.
Jonny sprinted past groups of curious neighbors who had gathered on the sidewalk after hearing the loud shots. He snatched up his bag of clothes and leapt from the top of the swing set, grabbing a hold of the overhanging branch and swinging over to the sidewalk on the other side.
He tossed the bag and the gun in the back seat left the neighborhood in a hurry.
â€˜What kind of escaping killer would stop at a nearby restaurant and order food, right?â€™ Jonny put himself in the policeâ€™s shoes, they would probably block of the freeway entrances and start looking from there.
He pulled into the Hardeeâ€™s parking lot and made a bee-line for the restroom, where he changed quickly back into his suit. He ordered a pineapple milkshake at the counter and then got back into his car and headed for the mall.
Jonny checked his watch and he jogged across the food court near the theatre complex, it had been 24 minutes since he had left.
He entered the theatre and noticed a hush in the room. It was the near the final scene of the movie and apparently the young woman was dying, finally, during her honeymoon together with the â€˜bad-boyâ€™ who was now sporting gelled hair and clean white teeth.
â€œâ€¦and I know that somewhere, in heaven... weâ€™ll meet again, and on that beautiful day, weâ€™ll walk together, down a path that will never be forgotten!â€
The whole audience seemed to be in tears. Jonny awkwardly joined his date; she seemed to be upset and immediately began giving him the silent treatment.
As the crowds bustled their way out of the theatre he tried to hold her hand, but she pulled away.
â€œDamn itâ€¦Really blew this one I guessâ€¦â€ Jonny kicked an empty soda cup out of the path as they exited into the bright light of the food court.
He saw a cluster of large, armed men in heavy black vests running full tilt toward them, shoving bystanders out of the way. The L.A.P.D.â€™s response time had really become ridiculously good he thought to himself disappointedly.
â€œDonâ€™t panicâ€¦donâ€™t panicâ€¦ ditch the girl and try not to get nailed by a lucky shotâ€¦â€ He quickly looked at his available options as the dozen or so officers dropped to their knees in firing positions and screamed out at him as over-enthusiastic SWAT teams are given to do.
â€œGet your face on the ground now bitch!!!â€
That was weird, they usually called him â€˜punkâ€™ or â€˜assholeâ€™, something was really strange hereâ€¦ That and the letters NSA emblazoned on their vestsâ€¦something he remembered just hearing recently had mentioned themâ€¦now what was it that he had heardâ€¦???
He grabbed Gabi in a tight hug and pushed her into the theatreâ€™s entrance. His hand groped under his jacket and yanked the Mini-Uzi out of his rig. He poked the barrel around the corner and sprayed the general area without looking, hoping to hit vitals unprotected by Kevlar.
The frantic shouts of â€œOfficer down! Officer down!â€ clearly audible beneath the roar of return fire signified that his luck had remained true to him.
Plaster and wood exploded around him as he ran with Gabiâ€™s hand in a tight grip. They kept their heads down as they pushed past a terrified janitor vacuuming the aisles. The fire door sounded an ear-splitting shriek as he slammed the crash bar and threw it open. On the other side was a cement stairwell lit by the strobing light of the alarm.
As they descended Jonny it hit Jonny suddenly and clearly. â€œTheyâ€™re after you arenâ€™t they?â€
Gabi caught her breath and yelled out a reply, â€œYouâ€¦ shotâ€¦ a *vulgarity*ing cop!!!!!! Oh my godâ€¦ Iâ€™m *vulgarity*ing going to jail, Iâ€™m going to jailâ€¦â€
She stopped and shook her head and rubbed her face. â€œWell???????? You have a plan to get out of here?â€
Jonny looked her up and down, then his eyes stopped on her suitcase, â€œOf course! â€¦Now tell me, how come those guys sent a whole team after you? I know they didnâ€™t come for meâ€¦ They couldnâ€™t have known aboutâ€¦â€ He stopped as his voice dwindled off into an internal monologue.
She rolled her eyes back and pulled him in the direction of the parking lot, â€œLetâ€™s go, Iâ€™ll explain it all on the way! Iâ€™mâ€¦Iâ€™m uh...in some pretty big trouble you could sayâ€¦â€
(To be continued)