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Michigan Jones: Hit Man: Chapter 1 Michigan Jones: Hit Man: Chapter 1
by Asa Butcher
2008-06-28 10:13:01
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Warm summer days? Hell, they only exist in fairytales. The closest you’ll come to a fairytale in this hellhole is ‘Boy Meets Girls, Girl gives Boy an hour, Boy pays Girl, happy ever after.’ Love don’t exist here in the emotional sense, sure some love their work, but another human is a different matter. I realized a long time ago that there are no Prince Charmings or Cinderellas, not unless you’re willing to pay extra for the costume hire. Here all you’re going to find is ‘once upon a crime’…damn I’m in a good mood tonight.

Don’t ask me why murder and hit men are so romanticized; I blame the media – the perfect scapegoat for anything these days. These days indeed, what a time to be alive. If you’re not feeling depression, hate, anger or apathy, then it is a healthy does of self-loathing, this city does that to a person.

Anyways, I’d been hunting a mark for three consecutive days and nights; he’d never stopped moving. I couldn’t recall the last time I had been made to work so hard for a kill. In a way I welcomed this change of pace, a new edge to a routine job, strangely motivating in a sick sense. Sixth sense, more like, this guy had something that kept him one-step ahead of the best – I say best cause that’s what they all say, all I did was kill a guy that called himself the best and I inherited his title like some heavyweight boxing belt.

I had no ego about it, being the best means they all want to kill you, but that comes with the job. Well, this mark had my respect, he had stayed a move ahead of me for 72-hours straight and I had never seen that before. I felt sad when I finally caught up with him in some nameless back alley, whether he had grown tired of the chase or I had outsmarted him I didn’t care. Naturally it was raining, it was always raining in this city and yet nobody carried an umbrella, just a gun. Better wet than dead, huh.

The mark was trapped, like the proverbial rabbit in headlights, but then he did something that I had never seen before; he smiled at me. It was a smile that asked for no favours and had no hate; it was just acceptance at fate’s hand. He knew it was just business, he hadn’t done me any wrong and me to him, it was a matter between him and the client, I was just the middle-man, so he just smiled that smile.

I didn’t return the gesture, I was the business frame of mind and I hated the begging and negotiations that usually started when you hesitated for a moment. No emotions and I didn’t usually talk to a mark before killing them, but with this good mood and the respect I had built up with this guy I opened my mouth:

“Man, you are good. 72-hours non-stop, no food, no sleep. I am impressed and that’s a first.”

Praise from a hit man, what a world. Food I can live without and, as that saying goes, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“I doubt that… not the way I’ve been told to kill you…”

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AP2008-06-30 05:26:53
Scary though good.

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