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This is the start of a story I am writing at the moment. No idea what it's going to be about yet, i'm just putting ideas onto paper. If you can be bothered to read it, let me know what you think, eh?
Prologue
Great. Raining again. Not just raining, it seemed like the whole damn sky was caving in. I wouldn’t have cared if I had known this was my last hour of freedom, but at that moment rain was the worst thing that could happen. Aside from this, the first thing I sensed upon stepping out from the club was the night air. It was thick around me, so thick it would seem possible to cut it with a knife. It was also cold, bitterly, fiercely cold. The coldness was made all the more sharper because I had been amongst the packed bodies in the overheated club for so long, and the contrast of the temperatures caused my eyes to water. I breathed outward, and immediately felt the wetness of the air moisten my lips. I started to walk, not sure where to, but away from the club, away from my pursuers, my paid stalkers. The important thing was to look normal, casual, as though I had not noticed the thugs clumsy surveillance. A few yards away from the steps that led into the club I noticed that my goddamn shoelace was untied, so I bent down to retie it, despite my instinctive urge to get away from the club as fast as possible. I had to look normal, and normal people over the age of 8 didn’t walk about with their shoelaces untied. The sodden shoelaces were made all the more difficult due to my numb and quivering hands.
The clubs swinging doors opened behind me, alerting me to the presence of another person. I tensed right up, my shivering momentarily stopped. I knew it was them – the thugs who had been paid by Maziraz to silence me. If only they knew I didn’t need silencing.
The person behind me was actually two people, drunk girls who wanted to have a conversation away from the drum and base music of the club. The ladies toilet must be full. The two of them saw me staring at them, giggled, and staggered over toward me. This was the last thing I needed right now – they weren’t even that good looking. I could just run, but that would make me look suspicious, not to mention humiliating. I decided to humor them, if only for a second, then make a swift exit.
One of them (blonde, with a stud in her nose) wrapped her arm around my waist, dangerously close to my a**e, and looked at me in a pathetic attempt to be sexy. The other, dark haired and in need of a good suntan, rested her head against my shoulder, and her hand on my crotch. I gently moved her hand away from that particular area, and so she settled for my chest.
Damn, they must be drunk to find me remotely attractive.
“Sorry ladies” I said, hoping to appear cool. “I’m in a rush”. And then, when they didn’t move, I decided to give them the reason why I was in a rush. What the hell, it would get rid of them, and they probably wouldn’t remember tomorrow morning.
“I’m on the run from a couple of thugs who have been hired to kill me by a bloke called Maziraz. Maziraz is an underground Mafia boss, and he wants to knock me off because I inadvertently hacked into his computer and saw something that I really shouldn’t have seen. Chances are I’ll be dead within a week. Actually, if I don’t go now, I’ll be dead within a couple of minutes”.
The blond one looked at me from my right shoulder, and gave me, quite soberly, the most unexpected response she could possibly have given. If she had said quoted a Haiku, I would have been less surprised. In fact, if she had said ‘pink spotted elephants can smoke banana shortbread’ I would have been less surprised.
“We know” she said, just seconds before the other girl shot me in the gut.
(In italics) We’ll get you.
Now I was the one staggering. I took a couple of steps backward into the wall of the club, creating a red splodge on a poster advertising some DJ with a stupid name. I looked down at the hole in the left-hand side of my chest, and clamped my hands over the wound, just because that’s what they do on TV. Blood seeped out of the wound, over my hands, my hands that could type at 120 words a minute.
(In italics) You don’t mess with people like us, Andy.
I looked up at my killers, the drunken girls that had looked so normal. They both now looked sober as judges, watching my demise with cold stares. The one who needed the suntan held a small pistol in her hand. Its tip was dripping blood. My blood.
(In italics) We’re the ones who own the world. London, New York, Paris…we’ve got addresses everywhere.
I fell to the floor, sitting against the wall, eyes wide open, mouth gaping, blood pouring out from the gaping wound in my chest. My vision wavered, everything swaying, my brain going into shock. I was going to die because I believed the stereotype that girls don’t work for evil Mafia organizations.
(In italics) We own the world, so we’re the ones who have the authority to choose it’s future. We decide whether the human race lives or dies.
My body had left a bloody skidmark against the wall. Just like The Matrix. Damn, where’s bullet time when you need it? My blood spills out into a puddle and mixes with the murky water, like when you drop ink into a pool of water. I tilted my neck back, looking up at the stars in the sky, desperate to spend my last few moments of life looking a something beautiful.
(In italics) We won’t let one computer geek stop us. Hell, we won’t let a whole army of computer geeks stop us.
The stars are beautiful tonight.
(In italics) There is no wrong. There is no right. Morals are fictional.
I was a bit disappointed, actually. I hadn’t seen my life flash before my eyes. Without warning, the noise of a car engine cut through the night air, disturbing the silence of the street. It was faint at first, but the mechanical rumble grew louder. I heard the girls talk to each other in alarmed tones. Police, I hoped. Those witches deserve to die. The one who had shot me walked up to slapped the other one, and handed her the gun. Blondie walked over to me, and stood over me. She looked like a giant from my view.
(In italics) You ever seen anything ugly in nature? Ugly is just our word for saying something is man made.
She pointed the gun at me. She didn’t want me to die slow – I was going to die fast.
The cars eventually its headlights swept round the bend and the car rounded the corner. The headlights were bright, and cut though the raindrops, creating a solid beam of light. Strangely for this area of London, it was an expensive model, a designer car. Probably stolen. Strange the stuff you notice when you’re dying. It’s like a heightened sense of reality.
(In italics) You don’t mess with people like us, Andy.
Shpit, I was going to die with my shoelaces untied.
(In italics) We’ll get you.
The blond girl looked around nervously, checking with Ms. Sun Tan. The car zoomed toward them, and slid into a stop. The girls started to run back into the club. Automatic fire from the car ripped across the near silence of the street, and bullets started to fly.
(In italics) Fishoutofwater
Jesus Christ, what was going on here? Even my parents wouldn’t be able to take revenge that quickly. I’m not even dead yet. Talk about jumping the gun. Bullets ripped into pale girls’ back, and she fell down, a cloud of red filling the air around her. Blondie screamed, and took a bullet to the leg. As she fell down, she took another one to her head. Dead.
(In italics) We’ll get you, and anyone else that tries to stand in our way of the great plan. We’re the Schwarzniger of the world
A man jumped out of the cars rear door, clad in a balaclava. A big gun was slung over his back. Only his eyes were showing. He ran toward me. Oh dear. The stars are beautiful tonight.
(In italics) We won’t let one computer geek stop us. Hell, we won’t let a whole army of computer geeks stop us.
They can’t have heard the gunfire in the club. The music must be too loud. But the thugs I was running from, they must have realized that I’d evaded them, because they now pushed out the door of the club, looking rather angry. I noticed this because the music was suddenly a bit louder, as it escaped the confines of that hell hole.
(In italics) Our smallpox variant kills within a day.
The man coming toward me deftly knelt, turned, got the gun for his back into his hands, and shot the two guys with just one round. They didn’t even know what hit them. One of them tumbled back through the now bloodstained glass doors of the club, and down the long staircase that led down to the source of the music. The other just fell to the floor and died in a very casual way. Not cinematic at all.
(In italics) It’s a good thing dope was legalized. If it weren’t, the world would continue to be raped as it is now. At least it’s no longer illegal to be happy.
I was going to die with just a Zippo lighter, an eighth of hash, £5.50, and a packet of Rizlas to my name. And my shoelaces would be untied. The man who I had just watched kill four people walked over to me, picked me up, and carried me to the back of the car he came from. I dripped a trail of blood. He put me in the car, and I lost consciousness.
Prologue
Great. Raining again. Not just raining, it seemed like the whole damn sky was caving in. I wouldn’t have cared if I had known this was my last hour of freedom, but at that moment rain was the worst thing that could happen. Aside from this, the first thing I sensed upon stepping out from the club was the night air. It was thick around me, so thick it would seem possible to cut it with a knife. It was also cold, bitterly, fiercely cold. The coldness was made all the more sharper because I had been amongst the packed bodies in the overheated club for so long, and the contrast of the temperatures caused my eyes to water. I breathed outward, and immediately felt the wetness of the air moisten my lips. I started to walk, not sure where to, but away from the club, away from my pursuers, my paid stalkers. The important thing was to look normal, casual, as though I had not noticed the thugs clumsy surveillance. A few yards away from the steps that led into the club I noticed that my goddamn shoelace was untied, so I bent down to retie it, despite my instinctive urge to get away from the club as fast as possible. I had to look normal, and normal people over the age of 8 didn’t walk about with their shoelaces untied. The sodden shoelaces were made all the more difficult due to my numb and quivering hands.
The clubs swinging doors opened behind me, alerting me to the presence of another person. I tensed right up, my shivering momentarily stopped. I knew it was them – the thugs who had been paid by Maziraz to silence me. If only they knew I didn’t need silencing.
The person behind me was actually two people, drunk girls who wanted to have a conversation away from the drum and base music of the club. The ladies toilet must be full. The two of them saw me staring at them, giggled, and staggered over toward me. This was the last thing I needed right now – they weren’t even that good looking. I could just run, but that would make me look suspicious, not to mention humiliating. I decided to humor them, if only for a second, then make a swift exit.
One of them (blonde, with a stud in her nose) wrapped her arm around my waist, dangerously close to my a**e, and looked at me in a pathetic attempt to be sexy. The other, dark haired and in need of a good suntan, rested her head against my shoulder, and her hand on my crotch. I gently moved her hand away from that particular area, and so she settled for my chest.
Damn, they must be drunk to find me remotely attractive.
“Sorry ladies” I said, hoping to appear cool. “I’m in a rush”. And then, when they didn’t move, I decided to give them the reason why I was in a rush. What the hell, it would get rid of them, and they probably wouldn’t remember tomorrow morning.
“I’m on the run from a couple of thugs who have been hired to kill me by a bloke called Maziraz. Maziraz is an underground Mafia boss, and he wants to knock me off because I inadvertently hacked into his computer and saw something that I really shouldn’t have seen. Chances are I’ll be dead within a week. Actually, if I don’t go now, I’ll be dead within a couple of minutes”.
The blond one looked at me from my right shoulder, and gave me, quite soberly, the most unexpected response she could possibly have given. If she had said quoted a Haiku, I would have been less surprised. In fact, if she had said ‘pink spotted elephants can smoke banana shortbread’ I would have been less surprised.
“We know” she said, just seconds before the other girl shot me in the gut.
(In italics) We’ll get you.
Now I was the one staggering. I took a couple of steps backward into the wall of the club, creating a red splodge on a poster advertising some DJ with a stupid name. I looked down at the hole in the left-hand side of my chest, and clamped my hands over the wound, just because that’s what they do on TV. Blood seeped out of the wound, over my hands, my hands that could type at 120 words a minute.
(In italics) You don’t mess with people like us, Andy.
I looked up at my killers, the drunken girls that had looked so normal. They both now looked sober as judges, watching my demise with cold stares. The one who needed the suntan held a small pistol in her hand. Its tip was dripping blood. My blood.
(In italics) We’re the ones who own the world. London, New York, Paris…we’ve got addresses everywhere.
I fell to the floor, sitting against the wall, eyes wide open, mouth gaping, blood pouring out from the gaping wound in my chest. My vision wavered, everything swaying, my brain going into shock. I was going to die because I believed the stereotype that girls don’t work for evil Mafia organizations.
(In italics) We own the world, so we’re the ones who have the authority to choose it’s future. We decide whether the human race lives or dies.
My body had left a bloody skidmark against the wall. Just like The Matrix. Damn, where’s bullet time when you need it? My blood spills out into a puddle and mixes with the murky water, like when you drop ink into a pool of water. I tilted my neck back, looking up at the stars in the sky, desperate to spend my last few moments of life looking a something beautiful.
(In italics) We won’t let one computer geek stop us. Hell, we won’t let a whole army of computer geeks stop us.
The stars are beautiful tonight.
(In italics) There is no wrong. There is no right. Morals are fictional.
I was a bit disappointed, actually. I hadn’t seen my life flash before my eyes. Without warning, the noise of a car engine cut through the night air, disturbing the silence of the street. It was faint at first, but the mechanical rumble grew louder. I heard the girls talk to each other in alarmed tones. Police, I hoped. Those witches deserve to die. The one who had shot me walked up to slapped the other one, and handed her the gun. Blondie walked over to me, and stood over me. She looked like a giant from my view.
(In italics) You ever seen anything ugly in nature? Ugly is just our word for saying something is man made.
She pointed the gun at me. She didn’t want me to die slow – I was going to die fast.
The cars eventually its headlights swept round the bend and the car rounded the corner. The headlights were bright, and cut though the raindrops, creating a solid beam of light. Strangely for this area of London, it was an expensive model, a designer car. Probably stolen. Strange the stuff you notice when you’re dying. It’s like a heightened sense of reality.
(In italics) You don’t mess with people like us, Andy.
Shpit, I was going to die with my shoelaces untied.
(In italics) We’ll get you.
The blond girl looked around nervously, checking with Ms. Sun Tan. The car zoomed toward them, and slid into a stop. The girls started to run back into the club. Automatic fire from the car ripped across the near silence of the street, and bullets started to fly.
(In italics) Fishoutofwater
Jesus Christ, what was going on here? Even my parents wouldn’t be able to take revenge that quickly. I’m not even dead yet. Talk about jumping the gun. Bullets ripped into pale girls’ back, and she fell down, a cloud of red filling the air around her. Blondie screamed, and took a bullet to the leg. As she fell down, she took another one to her head. Dead.
(In italics) We’ll get you, and anyone else that tries to stand in our way of the great plan. We’re the Schwarzniger of the world
A man jumped out of the cars rear door, clad in a balaclava. A big gun was slung over his back. Only his eyes were showing. He ran toward me. Oh dear. The stars are beautiful tonight.
(In italics) We won’t let one computer geek stop us. Hell, we won’t let a whole army of computer geeks stop us.
They can’t have heard the gunfire in the club. The music must be too loud. But the thugs I was running from, they must have realized that I’d evaded them, because they now pushed out the door of the club, looking rather angry. I noticed this because the music was suddenly a bit louder, as it escaped the confines of that hell hole.
(In italics) Our smallpox variant kills within a day.
The man coming toward me deftly knelt, turned, got the gun for his back into his hands, and shot the two guys with just one round. They didn’t even know what hit them. One of them tumbled back through the now bloodstained glass doors of the club, and down the long staircase that led down to the source of the music. The other just fell to the floor and died in a very casual way. Not cinematic at all.
(In italics) It’s a good thing dope was legalized. If it weren’t, the world would continue to be raped as it is now. At least it’s no longer illegal to be happy.
I was going to die with just a Zippo lighter, an eighth of hash, £5.50, and a packet of Rizlas to my name. And my shoelaces would be untied. The man who I had just watched kill four people walked over to me, picked me up, and carried me to the back of the car he came from. I dripped a trail of blood. He put me in the car, and I lost consciousness.
pop
But you can't annoy Reaper without making Iguana kiss someone! What else are stories for?
You seemed to have scared everyone off by saying "Non-SR", but I thought it was excellant. Well written and dry humour. Interesting start too.
I'm an awful critic..
I'm an awful critic..
This is the start of a story I am writing at the moment. No idea what it's going to be about yet, i'm just putting ideas onto paper. If you can be bothered to read it, let me know what you think, eh?
Prologue
Great. Raining again. Not just raining, it seemed like the whole damn sky was caving in. I wouldn’t have cared if I had known this was my last hour of freedom, but at that moment rain was the worst thing that could happen. Aside from this, the first thing I sensed upon stepping out from the club was the night air. It was thick around me, so thick it would seem possible to cut it with a knife. It was also cold, bitterly, fiercely cold. The coldness was made all the more sharper because I had been amongst the packed bodies in the overheated club for so long, and the contrast of the temperatures caused my eyes to water. I breathed outward, and immediately felt the wetness of the air moisten my lips. I started to walk, not sure where to, but away from the club, away from my pursuers, my paid stalkers. The important thing was to look normal, casual, as though I had not noticed the thugs clumsy surveillance. A few yards away from the steps that led into the club I noticed that my goddamn shoelace was untied, so I bent down to retie it, despite my instinctive urge to get away from the club as fast as possible. I had to look normal, and normal people over the age of 8 didn’t walk about with their shoelaces untied. The sodden shoelaces were made all the more difficult due to my numb and quivering hands.
The clubs swinging doors opened behind me, alerting me to the presence of another person. I tensed right up, my shivering momentarily stopped. I knew it was them – the thugs who had been paid by Maziraz to silence me. If only they knew I didn’t need silencing.
The person behind me was actually two people, drunk girls who wanted to have a conversation away from the drum and base music of the club. The ladies toilet must be full. The two of them saw me staring at them, giggled, and staggered over toward me. This was the last thing I needed right now – they weren’t even that good looking. I could just run, but that would make me look suspicious, not to mention humiliating. I decided to humor them, if only for a second, then make a swift exit.
One of them (blonde, with a stud in her nose) wrapped her arm around my waist, dangerously close to my a**e, and looked at me in a pathetic attempt to be sexy. The other, dark haired and in need of a good suntan, rested her head against my shoulder, and her hand on my crotch. I gently moved her hand away from that particular area, and so she settled for my chest.
Damn, they must be drunk to find me remotely attractive.
“Sorry ladies” I said, hoping to appear cool. “I’m in a rush”. And then, when they didn’t move, I decided to give them the reason why I was in a rush. What the hell, it would get rid of them, and they probably wouldn’t remember tomorrow morning.
“I’m on the run from a couple of thugs who have been hired to kill me by a bloke called Maziraz. Maziraz is an underground Mafia boss, and he wants to knock me off because I inadvertently hacked into his computer and saw something that I really shouldn’t have seen. Chances are I’ll be dead within a week. Actually, if I don’t go now, I’ll be dead within a couple of minutes”.
The blond one looked at me from my right shoulder, and gave me, quite soberly, the most unexpected response she could possibly have given. If she had said quoted a Haiku, I would have been less surprised. In fact, if she had said ‘pink spotted elephants can smoke banana shortbread’ I would have been less surprised.
“We know” she said, just seconds before the other girl shot me in the gut.
(In italics) We’ll get you.
Now I was the one staggering. I took a couple of steps backward into the wall of the club, creating a red splodge on a poster advertising some DJ with a stupid name. I looked down at the hole in the left-hand side of my chest, and clamped my hands over the wound, just because that’s what they do on TV. Blood seeped out of the wound, over my hands, my hands that could type at 120 words a minute.
(In italics) You don’t mess with people like us, Andy.
I looked up at my killers, the drunken girls that had looked so normal. They both now looked sober as judges, watching my demise with cold stares. The one who needed the suntan held a small pistol in her hand. Its tip was dripping blood. My blood.
(In italics) We’re the ones who own the world. London, New York, Paris…we’ve got addresses everywhere.
I fell to the floor, sitting against the wall, eyes wide open, mouth gaping, blood pouring out from the gaping wound in my chest. My vision wavered, everything swaying, my brain going into shock. I was going to die because I believed the stereotype that girls don’t work for evil Mafia organizations.
(In italics) We own the world, so we’re the ones who have the authority to choose it’s future. We decide whether the human race lives or dies.
My body had left a bloody skidmark against the wall. Just like The Matrix. Damn, where’s bullet time when you need it? My blood spills out into a puddle and mixes with the murky water, like when you drop ink into a pool of water. I tilted my neck back, looking up at the stars in the sky, desperate to spend my last few moments of life looking a something beautiful.
(In italics) We won’t let one computer geek stop us. Hell, we won’t let a whole army of computer geeks stop us.
The stars are beautiful tonight.
(In italics) There is no wrong. There is no right. Morals are fictional.
I was a bit disappointed, actually. I hadn’t seen my life flash before my eyes. Without warning, the noise of a car engine cut through the night air, disturbing the silence of the street. It was faint at first, but the mechanical rumble grew louder. I heard the girls talk to each other in alarmed tones. Police, I hoped. Those witches deserve to die. The one who had shot me walked up to slapped the other one, and handed her the gun. Blondie walked over to me, and stood over me. She looked like a giant from my view.
(In italics) You ever seen anything ugly in nature? Ugly is just our word for saying something is man made.
She pointed the gun at me. She didn’t want me to die slow – I was going to die fast.
The cars eventually its headlights swept round the bend and the car rounded the corner. The headlights were bright, and cut though the raindrops, creating a solid beam of light. Strangely for this area of London, it was an expensive model, a designer car. Probably stolen. Strange the stuff you notice when you’re dying. It’s like a heightened sense of reality.
(In italics) You don’t mess with people like us, Andy.
Shpit, I was going to die with my shoelaces untied.
(In italics) We’ll get you.
The blond girl looked around nervously, checking with Ms. Sun Tan. The car zoomed toward them, and slid into a stop. The girls started to run back into the club. Automatic fire from the car ripped across the near silence of the street, and bullets started to fly.
(In italics) Fishoutofwater
Jesus Christ, what was going on here? Even my parents wouldn’t be able to take revenge that quickly. I’m not even dead yet. Talk about jumping the gun. Bullets ripped into pale girls’ back, and she fell down, a cloud of red filling the air around her. Blondie screamed, and took a bullet to the leg. As she fell down, she took another one to her head. Dead.
(In italics) We’ll get you, and anyone else that tries to stand in our way of the great plan. We’re the Schwarzniger of the world
A man jumped out of the cars rear door, clad in a balaclava. A big gun was slung over his back. Only his eyes were showing. He ran toward me. Oh dear. The stars are beautiful tonight.
(In italics) We won’t let one computer geek stop us. Hell, we won’t let a whole army of computer geeks stop us.
They can’t have heard the gunfire in the club. The music must be too loud. But the thugs I was running from, they must have realized that I’d evaded them, because they now pushed out the door of the club, looking rather angry. I noticed this because the music was suddenly a bit louder, as it escaped the confines of that hell hole.
(In italics) Our smallpox variant kills within a day.
The man coming toward me deftly knelt, turned, got the gun for his back into his hands, and shot the two guys with just one round. They didn’t even know what hit them. One of them tumbled back through the now bloodstained glass doors of the club, and down the long staircase that led down to the source of the music. The other just fell to the floor and died in a very casual way. Not cinematic at all.
(In italics) It’s a good thing dope was legalized. If it weren’t, the world would continue to be raped as it is now. At least it’s no longer illegal to be happy.
I was going to die with just a Zippo lighter, an eighth of hash, £5.50, and a packet of Rizlas to my name. And my shoelaces would be untied. The man who I had just watched kill four people walked over to me, picked me up, and carried me to the back of the car he came from. I dripped a trail of blood. He put me in the car, and I lost consciousness.
Prologue
Great. Raining again. Not just raining, it seemed like the whole damn sky was caving in. I wouldn’t have cared if I had known this was my last hour of freedom, but at that moment rain was the worst thing that could happen. Aside from this, the first thing I sensed upon stepping out from the club was the night air. It was thick around me, so thick it would seem possible to cut it with a knife. It was also cold, bitterly, fiercely cold. The coldness was made all the more sharper because I had been amongst the packed bodies in the overheated club for so long, and the contrast of the temperatures caused my eyes to water. I breathed outward, and immediately felt the wetness of the air moisten my lips. I started to walk, not sure where to, but away from the club, away from my pursuers, my paid stalkers. The important thing was to look normal, casual, as though I had not noticed the thugs clumsy surveillance. A few yards away from the steps that led into the club I noticed that my goddamn shoelace was untied, so I bent down to retie it, despite my instinctive urge to get away from the club as fast as possible. I had to look normal, and normal people over the age of 8 didn’t walk about with their shoelaces untied. The sodden shoelaces were made all the more difficult due to my numb and quivering hands.
The clubs swinging doors opened behind me, alerting me to the presence of another person. I tensed right up, my shivering momentarily stopped. I knew it was them – the thugs who had been paid by Maziraz to silence me. If only they knew I didn’t need silencing.
The person behind me was actually two people, drunk girls who wanted to have a conversation away from the drum and base music of the club. The ladies toilet must be full. The two of them saw me staring at them, giggled, and staggered over toward me. This was the last thing I needed right now – they weren’t even that good looking. I could just run, but that would make me look suspicious, not to mention humiliating. I decided to humor them, if only for a second, then make a swift exit.
One of them (blonde, with a stud in her nose) wrapped her arm around my waist, dangerously close to my a**e, and looked at me in a pathetic attempt to be sexy. The other, dark haired and in need of a good suntan, rested her head against my shoulder, and her hand on my crotch. I gently moved her hand away from that particular area, and so she settled for my chest.
Damn, they must be drunk to find me remotely attractive.
“Sorry ladies” I said, hoping to appear cool. “I’m in a rush”. And then, when they didn’t move, I decided to give them the reason why I was in a rush. What the hell, it would get rid of them, and they probably wouldn’t remember tomorrow morning.
“I’m on the run from a couple of thugs who have been hired to kill me by a bloke called Maziraz. Maziraz is an underground Mafia boss, and he wants to knock me off because I inadvertently hacked into his computer and saw something that I really shouldn’t have seen. Chances are I’ll be dead within a week. Actually, if I don’t go now, I’ll be dead within a couple of minutes”.
The blond one looked at me from my right shoulder, and gave me, quite soberly, the most unexpected response she could possibly have given. If she had said quoted a Haiku, I would have been less surprised. In fact, if she had said ‘pink spotted elephants can smoke banana shortbread’ I would have been less surprised.
“We know” she said, just seconds before the other girl shot me in the gut.
(In italics) We’ll get you.
Now I was the one staggering. I took a couple of steps backward into the wall of the club, creating a red splodge on a poster advertising some DJ with a stupid name. I looked down at the hole in the left-hand side of my chest, and clamped my hands over the wound, just because that’s what they do on TV. Blood seeped out of the wound, over my hands, my hands that could type at 120 words a minute.
(In italics) You don’t mess with people like us, Andy.
I looked up at my killers, the drunken girls that had looked so normal. They both now looked sober as judges, watching my demise with cold stares. The one who needed the suntan held a small pistol in her hand. Its tip was dripping blood. My blood.
(In italics) We’re the ones who own the world. London, New York, Paris…we’ve got addresses everywhere.
I fell to the floor, sitting against the wall, eyes wide open, mouth gaping, blood pouring out from the gaping wound in my chest. My vision wavered, everything swaying, my brain going into shock. I was going to die because I believed the stereotype that girls don’t work for evil Mafia organizations.
(In italics) We own the world, so we’re the ones who have the authority to choose it’s future. We decide whether the human race lives or dies.
My body had left a bloody skidmark against the wall. Just like The Matrix. Damn, where’s bullet time when you need it? My blood spills out into a puddle and mixes with the murky water, like when you drop ink into a pool of water. I tilted my neck back, looking up at the stars in the sky, desperate to spend my last few moments of life looking a something beautiful.
(In italics) We won’t let one computer geek stop us. Hell, we won’t let a whole army of computer geeks stop us.
The stars are beautiful tonight.
(In italics) There is no wrong. There is no right. Morals are fictional.
I was a bit disappointed, actually. I hadn’t seen my life flash before my eyes. Without warning, the noise of a car engine cut through the night air, disturbing the silence of the street. It was faint at first, but the mechanical rumble grew louder. I heard the girls talk to each other in alarmed tones. Police, I hoped. Those witches deserve to die. The one who had shot me walked up to slapped the other one, and handed her the gun. Blondie walked over to me, and stood over me. She looked like a giant from my view.
(In italics) You ever seen anything ugly in nature? Ugly is just our word for saying something is man made.
She pointed the gun at me. She didn’t want me to die slow – I was going to die fast.
The cars eventually its headlights swept round the bend and the car rounded the corner. The headlights were bright, and cut though the raindrops, creating a solid beam of light. Strangely for this area of London, it was an expensive model, a designer car. Probably stolen. Strange the stuff you notice when you’re dying. It’s like a heightened sense of reality.
(In italics) You don’t mess with people like us, Andy.
Shpit, I was going to die with my shoelaces untied.
(In italics) We’ll get you.
The blond girl looked around nervously, checking with Ms. Sun Tan. The car zoomed toward them, and slid into a stop. The girls started to run back into the club. Automatic fire from the car ripped across the near silence of the street, and bullets started to fly.
(In italics) Fishoutofwater
Jesus Christ, what was going on here? Even my parents wouldn’t be able to take revenge that quickly. I’m not even dead yet. Talk about jumping the gun. Bullets ripped into pale girls’ back, and she fell down, a cloud of red filling the air around her. Blondie screamed, and took a bullet to the leg. As she fell down, she took another one to her head. Dead.
(In italics) We’ll get you, and anyone else that tries to stand in our way of the great plan. We’re the Schwarzniger of the world
A man jumped out of the cars rear door, clad in a balaclava. A big gun was slung over his back. Only his eyes were showing. He ran toward me. Oh dear. The stars are beautiful tonight.
(In italics) We won’t let one computer geek stop us. Hell, we won’t let a whole army of computer geeks stop us.
They can’t have heard the gunfire in the club. The music must be too loud. But the thugs I was running from, they must have realized that I’d evaded them, because they now pushed out the door of the club, looking rather angry. I noticed this because the music was suddenly a bit louder, as it escaped the confines of that hell hole.
(In italics) Our smallpox variant kills within a day.
The man coming toward me deftly knelt, turned, got the gun for his back into his hands, and shot the two guys with just one round. They didn’t even know what hit them. One of them tumbled back through the now bloodstained glass doors of the club, and down the long staircase that led down to the source of the music. The other just fell to the floor and died in a very casual way. Not cinematic at all.
(In italics) It’s a good thing dope was legalized. If it weren’t, the world would continue to be raped as it is now. At least it’s no longer illegal to be happy.
I was going to die with just a Zippo lighter, an eighth of hash, £5.50, and a packet of Rizlas to my name. And my shoelaces would be untied. The man who I had just watched kill four people walked over to me, picked me up, and carried me to the back of the car he came from. I dripped a trail of blood. He put me in the car, and I lost consciousness.