The Killer
PostPosted: Tue Nov 06, 2007 12:55 pm
WARNING: contains brief violence and some language.
Room numbers. Duane strolled down the hall, striking a match against the plate of room #314. There was, of course, a no smoking policy. There had always been a no smoking policy. For 55 years, the clerk had reminded him, there had always been a no smoking policy. Duane decided to gamble with the sudden possibility it had been receded in his favor. Late again. An hour this time. He held up the light to loosely hanging cigarette as he sharply turned the corner.
His right eye arched upwards. The end of the hall. If that was his room, their room, then who in holy Hell was stepping out of it? He stood still on his distant side of this stretch of particularly fine carpeting. Curious. Very curious. The man exiting the room, his room, gently clicked the door shut. What a tacky green suit. What was in the luggage? The man at the end of the hall twitched, and fixed his eyes on Duane. "Much business at this time of the morning?" Duane took a predatory step forward. Behind his back, he cocked the pistol. The man in green simply stood there, shifting the weight of the baggage he was carrying. Duane blinked. Was the luggage...leaking? And red? Bleeding luggage?
"Missed one" said the unwelcome guest.
"Eh?" Duane began, but then jumped back. The stranger had closed a considerable amount of distance in just a few seconds. He was brandishing a revolver. Duane threw out a hand and caught the man's arm and held it at a tangent to himself, dropping his own gun. The man threw out his other arm and produced a surgical scalpel from the sleeve. Sleight of hand. Duane struggled to move backwards, but the man in green was faster. He stabbed upwards, into Duane's jaw. Duane collapsed to the ground. A revolver casually pointed at his forehead. There was a shot, and Duane contributed to the already lush red color of the carpet.
***
Four bodies discovered, all with heads removed at the necks, hands at the wrists, and feet at the ankles. Even the corpse in the hall, who hadn't been moved. Left the shoes, though. And the socks. Weapons were also found on the bodies, though thoroughly filed down. Likely their own work. As for the rest of the room, standard disarray of a crime scene. Table was overturned, cards on the floor. Only, the chain latch on the door. It'd been cut. Coffers breathed into his sleeve. Monsters. Damned monsters.
He walked out of the room, not that it was much of an improvement, with another dead man propped against the wall on the far end. It was unnerving. Sliced off. All of them. Not sawed. Coffers' mood would have at least been slightly improved if the decapitations had shown signs of a saw. Not a clean cut. That was simply...inhuman. Looking back on the scene, only two of the victims showed any signs of struggle, the man in the hall and the one under the table. The other two were simply dead, one near the door, cutting wound deep into his leg, the other lying next to the sink near a window.
Coffers needed a breath of fresh air. Rather, what he needed was a cigarette, but the no smoking sign at the entrance had tipped him off on the way in. He made his way for the elevator.
***
"Two pair, kings and queens."
"Three aces."
"Like Hell you've got three aces."
"Gentlemen, please" said Hedger from the mirror "The morning shave is a lost art. I shouldn't cut myself because you two are arguing over cards." Hedger examined the razor, then applied it to the left side of his face. Always the left side first.
Nicholas shuffled the cards with a certain air of satisfaction around his person. "Well, I've won. Again. Whatever shall I make of my winnings?" Keifer stared at him with disdain. "Where's Duane? That ******* is late."
"Duane's always late. Do you need someone to win against so badly?"
"You cheat Nick."
"I never cheat. The goddess of luck is ever by my side."
"Some tramp she must be."
Nicholas hummed a little tune of his own invention to himself as he proceeded to deal the cards out again as Keifer glared at the tabletop. Hedger had the silence he wanted but cut his chin anyway, and grumbled incomprehensibly over the sink.
There was a tap at the door. A single tap. Nicholas' eyes peaked. "That'll be Duane. Keifer, be a dear, and let him in."
"You let him in. I'm not getting up, not for you or him."
"He'll have the money. That's more money for you to lose to me Keifer. Think of the possibilities."
"You can die."
"He can die later, after you've opened the door," Hedger threw in. "Go let him in already."
Keifer saddled out of his chair in an ill mood and made for the door. He turned the handle and opened the door as far as the chain latch would allow. "Duane, are you-" His eyes spasmed. He wretched down and toppled backwards. A knife cut deep into his leg. Holding his knee in pain, he looked up in time to see a second knife cutting through the door chain, which swung open easily. A man in a shabby green suit stood in the threshold, case in hand, a revolver in tow.
There was a gunshot. Hedger saw Keifer slump over dead reflected in his mirror, and turned around just in time to receive a bullet. He slumped over the sink. He saw Nicholas leap forward, the killer overtaking him, then the ceiling, then the fan overhead.
And then the world faded from view.
Room numbers. Duane strolled down the hall, striking a match against the plate of room #314. There was, of course, a no smoking policy. There had always been a no smoking policy. For 55 years, the clerk had reminded him, there had always been a no smoking policy. Duane decided to gamble with the sudden possibility it had been receded in his favor. Late again. An hour this time. He held up the light to loosely hanging cigarette as he sharply turned the corner.
His right eye arched upwards. The end of the hall. If that was his room, their room, then who in holy Hell was stepping out of it? He stood still on his distant side of this stretch of particularly fine carpeting. Curious. Very curious. The man exiting the room, his room, gently clicked the door shut. What a tacky green suit. What was in the luggage? The man at the end of the hall twitched, and fixed his eyes on Duane. "Much business at this time of the morning?" Duane took a predatory step forward. Behind his back, he cocked the pistol. The man in green simply stood there, shifting the weight of the baggage he was carrying. Duane blinked. Was the luggage...leaking? And red? Bleeding luggage?
"Missed one" said the unwelcome guest.
"Eh?" Duane began, but then jumped back. The stranger had closed a considerable amount of distance in just a few seconds. He was brandishing a revolver. Duane threw out a hand and caught the man's arm and held it at a tangent to himself, dropping his own gun. The man threw out his other arm and produced a surgical scalpel from the sleeve. Sleight of hand. Duane struggled to move backwards, but the man in green was faster. He stabbed upwards, into Duane's jaw. Duane collapsed to the ground. A revolver casually pointed at his forehead. There was a shot, and Duane contributed to the already lush red color of the carpet.
***
Four bodies discovered, all with heads removed at the necks, hands at the wrists, and feet at the ankles. Even the corpse in the hall, who hadn't been moved. Left the shoes, though. And the socks. Weapons were also found on the bodies, though thoroughly filed down. Likely their own work. As for the rest of the room, standard disarray of a crime scene. Table was overturned, cards on the floor. Only, the chain latch on the door. It'd been cut. Coffers breathed into his sleeve. Monsters. Damned monsters.
He walked out of the room, not that it was much of an improvement, with another dead man propped against the wall on the far end. It was unnerving. Sliced off. All of them. Not sawed. Coffers' mood would have at least been slightly improved if the decapitations had shown signs of a saw. Not a clean cut. That was simply...inhuman. Looking back on the scene, only two of the victims showed any signs of struggle, the man in the hall and the one under the table. The other two were simply dead, one near the door, cutting wound deep into his leg, the other lying next to the sink near a window.
Coffers needed a breath of fresh air. Rather, what he needed was a cigarette, but the no smoking sign at the entrance had tipped him off on the way in. He made his way for the elevator.
***
"Two pair, kings and queens."
"Three aces."
"Like Hell you've got three aces."
"Gentlemen, please" said Hedger from the mirror "The morning shave is a lost art. I shouldn't cut myself because you two are arguing over cards." Hedger examined the razor, then applied it to the left side of his face. Always the left side first.
Nicholas shuffled the cards with a certain air of satisfaction around his person. "Well, I've won. Again. Whatever shall I make of my winnings?" Keifer stared at him with disdain. "Where's Duane? That ******* is late."
"Duane's always late. Do you need someone to win against so badly?"
"You cheat Nick."
"I never cheat. The goddess of luck is ever by my side."
"Some tramp she must be."
Nicholas hummed a little tune of his own invention to himself as he proceeded to deal the cards out again as Keifer glared at the tabletop. Hedger had the silence he wanted but cut his chin anyway, and grumbled incomprehensibly over the sink.
There was a tap at the door. A single tap. Nicholas' eyes peaked. "That'll be Duane. Keifer, be a dear, and let him in."
"You let him in. I'm not getting up, not for you or him."
"He'll have the money. That's more money for you to lose to me Keifer. Think of the possibilities."
"You can die."
"He can die later, after you've opened the door," Hedger threw in. "Go let him in already."
Keifer saddled out of his chair in an ill mood and made for the door. He turned the handle and opened the door as far as the chain latch would allow. "Duane, are you-" His eyes spasmed. He wretched down and toppled backwards. A knife cut deep into his leg. Holding his knee in pain, he looked up in time to see a second knife cutting through the door chain, which swung open easily. A man in a shabby green suit stood in the threshold, case in hand, a revolver in tow.
There was a gunshot. Hedger saw Keifer slump over dead reflected in his mirror, and turned around just in time to receive a bullet. He slumped over the sink. He saw Nicholas leap forward, the killer overtaking him, then the ceiling, then the fan overhead.
And then the world faded from view.
)