Hey all.
So after being bullied by the Fangs ‘n’ Fonts crew for so long, I finally have something done that I’m looking to submit to an anthology. I’d like it if some of you critical eyes out there would be willing to take a peek at it and see if you think it’s ok or if there’s some work that needs to be done. I’m betting on the latter of course.
The premise is the interior monologue of a hitman as he goes through his last job for his employer. It swtiches tenses a fair bit from past to present as a way of presenting a wandering mind. It’s not noir in the fully classic sense but I hope I’ve captured the spirit of the theme. I find it helps if you read it with a snarky feel to your inner voice.
I had fun writing this, and I hope whomever chooses to take a read will enjoy it too.
I’m attaching it as an RTF since it tops 7k words.
[EDIT] Thought I’d throw an excerpt up for everyone to check out:
[hr]
I’m a Professional
Another night.
Another night sitting on a rooftop looking out over the endless expanse of the city below. Another night freezing my ass off, wondering just why the hell I do this. Another night staring into that one window where I know he’ll eventually be. Will this be the night? Will I send that message and then watch as my bank account spins up some new numbers? If I’ve done my homework (and I have), then the answer to that question should be in the affirmative.
I’m craving a cigar at the moment, but that wouldn’t be the best of ideas. Even the smallest bit of ash could serve as evidence for what I’m about to do. I do my best to keep things clean…even considered some way to keep from shedding when I’m doing this. I’ve heard stories of a few in this business shaving themselves bald to prevent even a whisker from being left behind for forensics to find. Hmph. Most of those guys are either behind bars now or dead. A word to the wise: Despite all the different species of sentients around these days, no exploration has yet to find a completely bald one, at least of the canine or feline variety. Someone dumb enough to completely shave themselves and live in a city like this is basically begging to be taken out, legally or otherwise.
Still, it helps to be prepared. There’s a light wind tonight, enough to blow any shed fur away should it happen. I’m a little worried that the cordite smell might carry a bit, but given the other things I’m picking up in the air tonight, a little roasted gunpowder should blend in like it belongs there. Besides, by the time some bright penny figures out what that smell is, I’ll be long gone. As for the cigar, there’ll be plenty of time for that once the job’s done. It’s my bit; it’s what I do after nights like this: Finish the job, spark up, and revel in the sweet tobacco taste of victory.
Oh, where are my manners? I suppose I should introduce myself. Name’s Dan, though most folks know me as ‘Danny Boy’ Monaghan. I’m what they call a ‘professional,’ and I’m pretty sure everything I’ve said up to this point will help you answer the lingering question of ‘professional what?’ If the answer wasn’t already apparent, you might want to cast your gaze over to the ominous black case just off to my left, or the fact that I’m looking at that particular window through the ‘scope’ of my trusty Remington M2010. What can I say? I’m a fan of the classics.
Well, perhaps not as classic as all that. In truth, I haven’t used a traditional scope in years. Not too many in my profession do these days. For me it’s all internal now: Touch a space just below my right temple and my right eye rolls back, going from the kind of steel grey that the ladies love to solid black with a red crosshair. Looks damned cool, and it’s connected to the gun via wireless. It lets me aim down the sight of the gun without having to constantly peer through a scope and pray I don’t have to move. I once heard of one guy who would stake out his targets for so long, he wound up wearing adult diapers just so he didn’t have to move when nature called. I guess they didn’t call him ‘Stinky Sam’ for nothing.
As I said though, I’m a fan of the classics. A classic weapon for a classic scenario, I suppose. I wonder if any odds-makers back in the day ever thought that as different races all aspired to make their mark amongst the stars that every single species out there would share a common trait: The love of vice. You’ll have to pardon the biblical term, but it’s the only one that really fits. Seems that no matter your planet of origin, the only things folks want to do is maximize pleasure, minimize stress, and rake in as many creds as possible while doing as close to nothing as you can get.
Of course, when it comes to the demand for such forbidden fruits, there’s always someone out there willing to facilitate things, for a price. It doesn’t really matter where you’re from or what your preferred guilty pleasure is. Someone out there is waiting to gladly take your money in exchange for that object of your heart’s - or other part’s - desire.
Needless to say, peddling in such dalliances is a lucrative business. Given the risk involved though, a healthy profit is almost expected, isn’t it? So many species out there, and so many creative ways to mete out punishment for breaking the law. It’s a gamble to be sure, but one that promises insane rewards if you manage to pull it off. Most of the folks in the business know the risks and take the gamble anyway. Besides, if you rake in enough creds, you can always sprinkle a few around here and there to help tilt the legal scales in your favor.
With all those credits up for grabs though, competition is fierce to say the least. In fact, you could literally say it’s a cutthroat business. No really; throats do occasionally get cut. Not my preferred method but to each their own I always say. Me? I prefer the old-fashioned ‘reach out and touch someone from a safe distance’ approach. Look, there’s no romanticism behind what I do, all right? You think this is all guts and glamor? Try sitting on a rooftop every night for two weeks freezing your tail off wondering why a wolf would even be bothered by the cold.
Ok, calm down Danny. Focus. This kind of ranting will get you nowhere.
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Professional.rtf (111 KB)
