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Michigan Jones: Hit Man: Chapter 12 Michigan Jones: Hit Man: Chapter 12
by Asa Butcher
2008-10-04 09:29:09
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Where the hell was I? My eyes were open, but my brain hadn't kicked in yet. It was dark, warm and, dare a hit man actually say it, cosy, but where was I? I slapped my cheek and forced my head to start working… of course, Zee's living room in Reström… we probably shouldn't have opened the second bottle, but then again, if we were on the topic of fucking hindsight, I should never have met that damned demigod and listened to her cursed words "Surprise me!"

I looked at the watch on my wrist and briefly wondered why the thing wasn't working before remembering about the EMG pulse, so through the haze of alcohol I ordered my legs to hit the floor and pulled myself out of the chair that had been my bed. God bless Zee, she'd laid a blanket across my knees and placed a glass of water next to the chair - fuck, if somebody walked in right now they would never believe I am one of the toughest killers in the business… well, we all have our secrets.

The clock on the wall read 3:44, although I could have guessed that from the noise, or should I say complete lack of any sound whatsoever. It was the graveyard hour, not a creature was stirring, not even a rat, even on Reström the prostitutes have to sleep… beauty sleep I think they call it, but some of them would need at least one hundred years in cryogenic sleep to be considered even ugly.

The graveyard hour was always the worst time of the day for me, especially when on stakeouts. There was nothing else to do other than think, reflect, self-analyse, turn the shit over in your head and drive yourself crazy… usually I could control my mind, order my thoughts, but two bottles of Zee's whisky hadn't just thrown a spanner into the works, it felt like an entire toolbox.

I picked up the glass of water, grabbed my cigarettes and lighter and headed outside to Zee's terrace. The night air was cool and felt good on my face, while my lungs seemed to be having some sort of religious experience as they inhaled the smoke from the cigarette and the glass of water did a small job of easing my dehydrated throat, but nothing could calm my mind. After vocally narrating the chain of events to Zee last night it still didn't make any sense and knowing the full story didn't help Zee either, all she had was more questions, questions to which I had no answers… yet.

We both agreed it was a world of shit and we both agreed that the second bottle would need to be opened just to help us forget this world for a few hours. It had worked. We laughed, talked and reminisced just like in the old times, as for the sexual tension… well, it crackled like a soggy tissue. She wasn't like a mother to me, she was more like an old friend of my mother's, although since I never knew my mother she could be like my mother… fuck, I hate the graveyard hour.

The door to the terrace suddenly clicked open causing me to drop the glass, unholster my gun and level it at Zee before I had even realised what had happened. "Looks as though you could do with some practice, Mister Twitchy!" smiled Zee as she lit a cigarette, "Couldn't sleep too, huh!" Feeling like a first-class dick, I slipped the gun back into the holster and picked up the glass that had miraculously survived the drop, "Can I have a refill?" Zee pointed at a hose laying on the ground, "Use that; the plants think it is good enough."

Zee took a long drag from her cigarette, "So, Midge, what are we going to do?" I looked at her standing in the moonlight and suddenly thought that the graveyard hour really wasn't that bad all the time, "I have one idea, but you're not going to like it." She stubbed out her cigarette and stared at me, "Please tell me just what I have liked over the last 24-hours?" I stubbed my own cigarette out next to hers, "We're going to have to talk with Hnup Wan, your esteemed business rival." There was a moment's silence before Zee responded, "Fuck!"

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