{"id":295,"date":"2014-04-27T21:32:23","date_gmt":"2014-04-27T21:32:23","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.payneful.co.uk\/tales-of-sin\/?p=295"},"modified":"2022-07-25T16:16:20","modified_gmt":"2022-07-25T16:16:20","slug":"the-hitmans-tale-1-01-hitman-for-hire","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.payneful.co.uk\/tales-of-sin\/the-hitmans-tale-1-01-hitman-for-hire","title":{"rendered":"The Hitman\u2019s Tale \u2013 1.01 Hitman for Hire"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201c…And that\u2019s why I\u2019m here,\u201d Joe was currently sitting in the most ramshackle office he had ever seen. The place was built out of various pieces of scrap iron, stolen breeze blocks and sheer hope that it wouldn\u2019t fall in on itself. It certainly wasn\u2019t up to code \u2013 all the bare wiring and barely operational electrical generators alone would have sent any inspectors fleeing into a new career \u2013 but considering where he was that was hardly surprising.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The office was located in Undercit, a shanty town of a hive of scum and villainy that had been left to fester far below the City\u2019s plates. It had started as temporary accommodation for the construction crews back when the City of Light was first being built. It was then repurposed for refugee housing for those waiting to be approved citizenship up above. Since those days criminals and outlaws had come to stay. Just on the way here alone, Joe had witnessed a violent mugging perpetrated by a gang of street urchins; a couple of nudists walking a beast that looked like the result of crossing an Afghan hound with a bear; an arms dealer demonstrating the use of an ancient grenade launcher; three mimes assaulting an Irish cyborg; and a man stuffing a cadaver into a long-pig cart.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Needless to say Joe was not happy about being in Undercit. It was almost enough to make him miss the restaurant but if there was one thing he had learnt in the past two weeks it was that he had no idea how someone entered the business of killing people for profit. He considered his apathetic feelings towards working for a crime syndicate had done him a disservice as he seemed to have neglected to learn how certain aspects of criminality worked. How did one advertise for crime? Surely you couldn\u2019t just put an ad in the paper? \u201cNeed someone killed? Give Joe a call!\u201d sounded like a one-way ticket to a jail cell.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

That\u2019s when Joe had remembered that Big Jim had hired the mercenaries that killed him through one Harry \u201cThe Fixer\u201d Kilroy, manager to killers and ne’er-do-wells alike. Now Joe was in his office, staring at the large, sweaty man with the fussy moustache and inappropriate office attire.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Today Harry was wearing a string vest, floral print shorts that were a little too short and not much else. He was trimming his toenails as he listened to Joe\u2019s tale, something that the would-be-hitman was disturbingly hypnotised by. He just couldn\u2019t look away as the small clippings of human toenail was sent flying into the air one by one.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHmm, I have to admit I was worried when I heard an ex-member of the Dalminetti<\/span><\/span> Mafia was looking for me,\u201d stated The Fixer as he selected another nail for trimming. He spoke with a nasal tone of voice, one that carefully constructed its vocabulary to give the impression of belonging to someone of a much higher station than their appearance would suggest. A cigar was perched expertly between his lips. It wobbled as he spoke out of the side of his mouth.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI can only offer my deepest condolences for the loss of your family. Dougie is extremely talented but he is also a complete meathead. Honestly, his whole crew barely make one properly sane person between them but alas, they do get results\u2026\u201d he tried to flash Joe a sympathetic smile but he didn\u2019t have the face for it. Harry was born with the sort of facial arrangement that could only ever really portray \u201csinister\u201d or \u201cpunchable\u201d. Joe had the feeling that if it wasn\u2019t for Harry\u2019s smarmy way with words, the big automatic turrets hanging from the ceiling and the two muscular assistants sitting on the other side of the room, Harry\u2019s business wouldn\u2019t be thriving anywhere as well as it was.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t say I\u2019m too heart broken to be honest. Sure, I knew the Jims since I was a kid but it sounds like our guys were looking for a fight. They shoulda known better, really\u2026\u201d shrugged Joe, attempting to play it casual.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMust have been confusing, both brothers being called Jim\u2026\u201d noted The Fixer, another nail soaring through the air.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh you don\u2019t know the half of it! Big Jim was the smaller of the two but he had a big brain. Little Jim was his younger brother but he was a whole foot taller! They both had a stupid sense of humour, but you probably already figured that out considering how Big Jim died and all\u2026\u201d Joe found himself chuckling, the tension dispelling somewhat. He allowed himself to relax a little, which wasn\u2019t easy considering how he was currently awkwardly sitting on a generator with a badly faded sticky note on it that was either warning about shocks or shacks. Considering the state of this particular shack, either was a plausible possibility. It probably wasn\u2019t snacks as Harry was yet to offer any.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo!\u201d the sound of Harry\u2019s large hands slapping together pulled Joe\u2019s attention back to the large man in front of him, \u201cJoey! Can I call you Joey?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease don\u2019t-\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJoey! If you\u2019re serious about this new line of work I suppose we should start talking business! Is it definitely a hitman you wish to be? Not an assassin or bounty hunter or what have you?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cErr, is there really a difference between Hitman and assassin?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSure, depends on how quiet you tend to be. Bounty hunters are for tracking, hitmen are for sending a message and assassins are for when you want all parties involved to have plenty of plausible deniability. If you want to be more of an odd job man, that\u2019s a mercenary,\u201d Harry explained, the nail clipper having been abandoned so Harry could count the different variety of killers on his hand.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell I\u2019d like to aim for quiet but it\u2019s been awhile since I was particularly\u2026 active in the killing game. The Dalminettis were always kinda\u2026 sedate\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c…Alright, how about we start at hitman with the goal to be promoted to assassin,\u201d the length of pause before Harry\u2019s response told Joe that he wasn\u2019t doing the best job of selling himself right now. He was beginning to have doubts himself.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd how would you like to be marketed?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMarketed?\u201d Joe repeated, his expression blank.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, a stage name! How do you want people to know you!\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo I need a stage name? This ain\u2019t show biz!\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019d be surprised how similar they are! Putting out a contract on a human life is a big deal! People expect a little razzle-dazzle! A name can sink or magnify a reputation. Who would you consider for such a job? A person called \u201cThe Silencer\u201d or \u201cGraham\u201d?\u201d Harry was beginning to be very animated in his speech, his hands waving around for emphasis. Joe could see his point but did he really <\/span><\/span>want to invoke his old reputation? He had been skilled back in the day but would banking on that rep make him a target for people with a score to settle with the Dalminettis?<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c…I\u2019ve just been Average Joe Vekowski for the last few years\u2026\u201d he muttered after a while. Harry considered this.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt lacks a certain\u2026 pizazz. I thought you went by a different name?\u201d the large man began to click his fingers as he tried to remember, \u201cbegan with \u201cC\u201d\u2026 c..cr…craz-\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot that name. Not after\u2026 that ain\u2019t me,\u201d interrupted Joe more forcefully than he had intended. He could feel the eyes of The Fixer and his assistants boring into him as he averted his gaze to his shoes. There was a worryingly brown substance on the soles that he hoped was mud\u2026<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAverage Joe should do fine\u2026\u201d mumbled the hitman. Harry shrugged. He was used to his clients having weird little quirks. Getting snippy at old nicknames was better than going into a PTSD induced rage like some of the people on the books\u2026<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAlright then. Now being paid in cash is the preferred method of payment but you\u2019ll soon find the taxman coming knocking if you can\u2019t declare an income. Rodney here is our resident money launderer and will be happy to clean your accounts for you should you need it. <\/span><\/span>Standard finders fee for all work is ten percent of your pay. I have a friend up yonder that I normally send newbies along too just so we can get a gauge <\/span>of <\/span>your skills. Get a good feel for the kind of results you produce!\u201d Kilroy flashed a grin at him.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLike a test to see if I\u2019m worth keeping on the books?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMore or less. <\/span><\/span>You have to understand, if you fuck up a job then it reflects badly on me. Can\u2019t have you pissing off the wrong client, it could topple my entire empire!\u201d the grin seemed to beam brighter, Joe could swear he saw a tooth twinkle. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c<\/span>Don\u2019t worry, I\u2019m not expecting Doug McCracken levels of results <\/span><\/span>from you<\/span><\/span>. We won\u2019t be expecting you to take down a cruise liner full of gangsters by yourself,\u201d he winked, \u201c\u2019sides, Dougie has an advantage over you seeing as he has a freaking mage working with him. Guy\u2019s a living flamethrower. I\u2019m amazed your mates lasted as long as they did to be honest\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c…What?\u201d <\/span><\/span>That took Joe by surprised<\/span>. <\/span>It certainly explained why the trio of mercs were brought in to deal with the triad problem. Harry, however, didn\u2019t lose a step. He continued with barely a regard to Joe.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll have ol\u2019 Drago call you. I expect this time tomorrow you\u2019ll have your first contract!\u201d Harry\u2019s sweaty hands clasped themselves around one of Joe\u2019s limp ones for a very one-sided handshake as The Fixer stepped out from behind the repurposed air-plane wing that served as his desk. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

And that was it. The meeting was over. Joe was led out into the street and left to make his own way home. Joe was left feeling very small in the face of a brave new world he was only just learning how to navigate.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

No more marching up and down streets. No more collecting money <\/span><\/span>from poor shopkeepers. No more breaking people\u2019s fingers to remind them where there loyalties lay and who was supposed to be paying who. Everything was going to be different from now on.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Joe wasn\u2019t sure if he wanted to be sick from the nerves or the general stench of Undercit…<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u204e \u204e \u204e<\/span><\/p>\n

Far away from the City of Light, a man in a white lab coat panted heavily in fear as he ran along a traditional dock1<\/a><\/sup>, the lapping waves of the water creating an otherwise serene scene. The big black leather bag the doctor carried jingled as the instruments it held clinked together inside. He was sprinting for his life.<\/p>\n

He had to get out of town, fast. They were catching up, he could hear their van screeching to a stop, meaning that they had reached the bollards blocking the alley that led into the docks. He had to keep running. He didn\u2019t want to die.<\/p>\n

He could hear the sound of footsteps, the pitter-patter of a thin man\u2019s light step running at speed and the slow thumping of a larger man taking big strides. They were coming for him and weren\u2019t far away now.<\/p>\n

The doctor looked around as he ran onwards. The dock was empty, no ships to run on to, but a ship would have been a dead end anyway, dead<\/em> being the key word. Large crates and a forklift truck; hide or drive? No, they weren\u2019t that easy to hide from or fight. He opted for the towering ship containers rusting on the end of the dock.<\/p>\n

Running down the thin gap between the containers, he suddenly heard the voice of the thin man yell behind him, and he promptly ducked around a wall of containers as a small fireball flew past. It hit the opposite container wall, spluttering into a black smear of cooked metal.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t stop<\/em>, the doctor thought. Keep running<\/em>. His feet hammered along the concrete as he weaved and meandered around the tall walls of stacked containers.<\/p>\n

A hiss. Steam. There was a train nearby. An escape! But it was behind a dead end of containers. The door on the front of one ground level container was ajar, so the doctor took a chance. Feeling around inside the container, he managed to locate the bars of the door at the other end of the container, the train\u2019s hissing just beyond. He could hear footsteps behind him outside, but as he went to leave the door resisted. It was stuck.<\/p>\n

The doctor opened his bag and felt around for a vial. As he found it and brought it out, it emanated an orange glow from within. He threw it at the rusted door, it cracked open with a tinkle and the liquid reacted, causing what was once a rusted door to become thin air in a puff of smoke.<\/p>\n

The noise of the glass and the chemical reaction was just loud enough, attracting attention and causing the pace of the footsteps behind him to accelerate, but so did he. The train was there, right in front of him, pulling away. He pushed his legs forward, adrenaline pumping and blocking out the exhaustion.<\/p>\n

They were out of the container and just behind him. The thin one yelled the order to \u201cgrab him before he can get on the train!\u201d but it was too late for them.<\/p>\n

The doctor smiled as he leapt and grabbed on a handle on the side of the train, securing his footing on the step just under the doorway at the end of one of the carriages. He managed to open and close the door before some more fireballs impacted against the train, sizzling as the cold air rushed past the train as it began to speed up.<\/p>\n

The two men watched as the train left them behind. One was tall and extremely thin, contrasting the huge ape-like man beside him.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026They got away, Acheron,\u201d the large one groaned.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can see that Tartarus!\u201d the thin one growled in response. \u201cLet\u2019s get back to the damn van, we\u2019ll follow the train tracks. We\u2019ll find him again, he can\u2019t get that far.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Acheron<\/p>\n

\u204e \u204e \u204e<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c…A spokesman for Salmanic Inc told our reporters that the company is working to find the source of the blackouts and normal service should return soon. This has been the news on Centrissal FM, we now take you to number eight on the charts-\u201d<\/b><\/i><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The alarm clock was shrill as electronica music blared through the apartment. Joe groaned as sleep escaped him, pledging that one of his contracts would be obnoxious DJs that play stupid songs at stupid o\u2019clock in the stupid morning. He groggily shut the alarm clock off and set about getting up in as slow a manner as possible.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Night had passed since the meeting in Undercit. Joe had considered other ways to jump start his career, a list of which was lying on his living room coffee table along with the latest edition of the newspaper \u2018The Lantern Gazette\u2019 and a pile of junk mail. He\u2019d heard rumours of a jobs board of sorts on the feed system but that didn\u2019t sound particularly secure to him. Not that it mattered. That particular bill was one of the first that Joe neglected to pay. He didn\u2019t even own a digipad2<\/a><\/sup>, only ever utilising the phone and in-built feed reader that came with the apartment. He had never been very good with technology. Small devices tended to break in his hands. His mates used to get annoyed at him for being so hard to contact, Joe always saying \u201cwhy would I need to call you lot? We spend eight hours a day with each other as it is!\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Joe paused midway through getting changed, slowly becoming very aware that he had nowhere to go today. Not until this Drago bloke could be bothered to call him. He had only gotten up this early out of habit…<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s apartment was slightly on the cramped side and was a bit too close to the city\u2019s monorail tracks for most people\u2019s liking but Joe had managed to get a good deal on the rent, something he expected to go up now that he was no longer associated with the mafia. The apartment itself looked like any other belonging to a bachelor in their early thirties. The place was a mess with dishes, clothes and magazines thrown around for that \u2018homely\u2019 feel. There wasn\u2019t much in terms of decoration; only parts of walls were painted and some of the wallpaper was peeling off in places. The only obvious attempt at decoration was a picture placed on top of the TV, of a smartly dressed woman with big hair poised in an alluring pose. The only reason it was still there was because Joe didn\u2019t have the heart to take it down, or possibly because it was a reminder that a beautiful woman was perfectly capable of completely tearing a person\u2019s heart out3<\/a><\/sup><\/span>, hence the first reason.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Joe walked into the living room whilst slipping on his grey jacket, an odd fashion choice given that he was only wearing his vest and pants. He made his way to the small kitchen area in the back corner of room and set about making some coffee, flashing the picture an annoyed stare.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, you just keep smiling, Ms. Career\u2026\u201d he muttered to the smiling face before turning his back. He was slightly annoyed that no messages had been waiting for him when he awoke. The smiling face of his ex-girlfriend just seemed to rub in the lack of business coming his way.<\/span> He had expected to be bombarded with calls after a minute of announcing his new chosen career path. This was the City of Light after all, a place where there was always someone who needed someone else dead. Two weeks later and all he had to show for it was a new lingering smell on his suit and the promise that at least one person will probably call. If Harry up held his end of the bargain-<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

He nearly choked when the phone began to ring. He quickly put the mug down and engaged a hunt for the cordless phone which had once again escaped its docking charger. Joe knew it had to be Drago; he only had one living relative, his old mother who had been put into a retirement home years ago and seldom had any reason to call, not that she could anyway. His friends, his remaining<\/i> friends, also had no obvious reason to call, not that Alfie or Fingers ever had anything much to do with him anyway. Joe came to the conclusion that the call was definitely Drago \u2013 he just needed to find the phone before whoever it was hung up.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The ringing was coming from the table in the corner. Joe ran to it and started rummaging through clothes until his hand felt the phone\u2019s casing. The would-be hitman grinned as he clicked the answer button and raised the device to his ear.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHello?\u201d he asked, making his way over to the sofa as he listened to the slightly disturbing breathing sounds of the person on the other end. Right when Joe was sure that the person had hung up, a raspy voice spoke.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis the assassin bloke? The one The Fixer vouches for?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, that\u2019ll be me,\u201d Joe replied, quickly mentally retracting every bad thing he had said about Harry Kilroy.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo any job if the cash is right? Hit man for hire? No questions asked?\u201d the voice quoted.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Joe again responded, a little less sure as this wasn\u2019t something he and Harry had discussed. It sounded like Harry had taken a few liberties…<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGood. We\u2019ve got the dosh so name the price. Our little gang\u2019s got somethin\u2019 for ya to do.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Joe listened carefully to where the hit would be and the money arrangements before the phone clicked as the caller hung up. A few minutes later and Joe had finished sorting out the rest of his grey suit and his black tie. His clothes were cheap, almost obviously so, but they were comfy. Joe had paused to look at the only different suit in his wardrobe, the only one that cost more than all his other grey suits put together, the one wrapped in diamond-studded satin. He stroked the plastic launderette cover holding it and sighed. He\u2019d wear it again one day, once he felt ready to wear it again.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Once in his suit, he opened the drawer of his beside unit. Inside was foam, specially cut to house weapons. Once, quite a while ago, it had kept five revolvers in pristine order. Now the foam lining remained hollow, holding only two old battered revolvers. The original five revolvers had been sold on long ago, when the magic of the mob had disappeared, leaving behind only a dusty hollow shell of foam crusted with dead insects and dust.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Retrieving his holsters from the drawer underneath, he slipped one on under each arm, placing one revolver into one holster and spinning the other around his finger before holstering it in the other. He then eased on his jacket, ran his fingers through his greasy hair, opened the door, went out and locked it behind him.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Walking down the street he counted three alleyways and turned down the long passageway. Just past the rusting skip there was a door that had corroded just as much. Joe smiled at just how far down the road the raspy voice said the meeting place was. Tapping on the metal door briskly, a hatch opened to reveal the end of double-barrelled shotgun.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHello?\u201d Joe chirped, trying to hide the lump of shock in his throat. The gun hesitated, there was a grunt and the barrels slid away, to be replaced by two bloodshot eyes.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou the guy?\u201d the eyes muttered. Joe cleared his throat and tried to think how to phrase his answer.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEr\u2026yes,\u201d was the only thing he could come up with. It was surprisingly hard to sound like a hitman. He was new to all this. What was a hitman supposed to sound like, exactly?<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou were quick,\u201d the eyes replied, one narrowing with suspicion.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026Sorry?\u201d Joe suggested in apology. \u201cI only live around the corner\u201d didn\u2019t seem to cut it as an answer. He didn\u2019t want to be branded as the friendly neighbourhood hitman.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo, \u2018s okay. The boss likes punctuality,\u201d the eyes replied, before the hatch slid closed and the door echoed as several bolts and locks were opened. The door creaked open, wafting musty stale air into Joe\u2019s face.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

He stepped into the darkness, remembering to look confident, to look<\/span> professional<\/i><\/span>. There was the clink of bolts and locks sliding back into place behind him, but he resisted the urge to turn around. It would have made him look nervous. Instead, he peered around the corner into the light.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

If there had ever been a definitive hive of scum and villainy, the large dimly-lit room before him would probably been a close relative. There was a pool table with a large lamp hung above it just low enough to constantly bang your head on, as is traditional with all pool table lighting. There was a mini-bar too, complete with mini-barman – a dwarf in a greasy apron wearing a moustache and a general expression of \u2018mess with me and you\u2019ll suddenly need some new kneecaps\u2019. To complete the atmosphere of attempted fun, there was even a jukebox. Joe harboured the distinct feeling that there was a large knife stuck in its top it for a reason. Joe didn\u2019t want to look at the various people around the room too hard, just glancing at them made him want to wash his eyes.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The doorman shuffled up alongside him. The bloodshot eyes were part of a complete set of facial blemishes, including wrinkles, crow\u2019s feet, bags under the eyes, mange, and scarring. Your ideal hive of scum and villainy doorman, in fact.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf you\u2019ll follow me,\u201d the doorman murmured, shuffling away at top speed. Joe quickly followed, his eyes darting around the room to count the people and guns present.<\/span> One shotgun, five pistols and two Uzis spread between 9 people<\/i>, he finished counting in his mind. Strictly small time. Half the people here don\u2019t even have their safety catches off on their guns, for crying out loud. Amateurs<\/i>. Joe sighed but kept smiling. As long as they had the money he\u2019d do a hit for them.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The doorman led him into another dusty dim room, the bosses\u2019 office. He was sat behind an antique desk, featuring almost-real green office leather, and held a general air of small time money-maker around him. He was also quite fat.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou must be the Fixer\u2019s newest meat,\u201d the boss stated as he sucked on a cigar the same way a baby sucks on a bottle of milk. The boss lingered on his inhaling of cigar smoke a bit too long for Joe\u2019s liking. Even Joe knew that you weren\u2019t supposed to take cigar smoke back into your lungs on account of it being too acidic. The boss grunted out a breath of misty smoke with a smile.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes. That\u2019s me,\u201d Joe replied, eyes stinging in the cigar smoke that engulfed his face.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re punctual. I like a man who likes to be punctual.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI aim to please.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHaha, a little hitman humour, eh?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c<\/span>Aim<\/i><\/span> to please? No? Maybe not then.\u201d The boss took another exceedingly long drag of his cigar. \u201cYou\u2019re Joe Vekowski, aren\u2019t ya?\u201d he continued.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Joe answered, considering that anonymity was an advantage after he\u2019d answered, much to his own annoyance. It did make him wonder what exactly Kilroy had told this man about him…<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHmm. Ex-Dalminetti. Shame what happened to them. Good news for me though,\u201d the boss commented. News travelled fast, speeding across Lusinia towards the City of Light like metal towards a magnet. \u201cOl\u2019 Crazy Fingers working for contract now, eh?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Crazy Fingers? It had been a while since anyone had called him that, Joe considered. He hadn\u2019t been called that in a long time. Occasionally the name followed him around and resurfaced like an ex-girlfriend. A particularly unwelcome one. Harry wouldn\u2019t have mentioned that name; this guy was well connected.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The boss leaned forward and clasped his hands together, his cigar now comfortably seated on his lower lip.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Alphonse Drago. Small-time smuggler but living comfortably, thank you. Pleased to meet you,\u201d he stated, offering his hand. Joe took it firmly in a brief handshake.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the job?\u201d Joe asked, getting to the point.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPeople muscling in on my turf, getting\u2019 in the way,\u201d Drago muttered in reply, leaning back in his chair. \u201cA small yardie gang making a noise down on the dock front, think they can mess with me, real personal like. So I\u2019m gonna mess with them. Well,<\/span> you\u2019re<\/i> gonna mess with them. I want you to take out their leader, guy with blonde dreadlocks.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know who you mean. Drives a purple low-rider?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, that\u2019s the guy. You know him?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe drives downtown past the Dalminetti Restaurant a lot with his radio turned up. Can\u2019t miss the guy.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHa, can\u2019t<\/span> miss<\/i> the guy,\u201d chuckled Drago, appreciating the hitman\u2019s choice of words. Joe stared blankly.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEr…yeah, that\u2019s what I said.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Drago paused. He shrugged at Joe\u2019s wordplay blindness and continued.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGood. Okay. I don\u2019t care how much noise you make. They\u2019ll know who did it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd the money?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTwo grand. It\u2019s not much I admit, but respect goes a long way around here. I\u2019ll put in a good word for ya to some of my associates if you come through good. Come see me once the job is done.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCash, right? I don\u2019t do plastic or cheques.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHa haa, yer a funny guy, Vekowski. You\u2019re my kind of guy.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRight,\u201d Joe replied, completely unsure of what had been so funny about what he\u2019d said.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\n
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<\/div>\n
    \n
  1. There\u2019s an intentional distinction here; \u2018traditional\u2019 dock refers to the fact it is next to water, in contrast to the docks for airships and space vehicles that are just as equally popular for the age. ↩<\/a><\/span><\/li>\n
  2. As time moved on, people began to use mobile phones less as phones and more as digital assistants or notebooks. As such, the marketing of such devices became less focused on their abilities to make phone calls and more on their personal admin utilities and ability to connect to the internet and, later, the Galactic Feed System (or GFS, it\u2019s like the internet but in space). Nowadays, every one owns a digital notebook or digibook, the devices original function of telephone being relegated to a mere app. ↩<\/a><\/span><\/li>\n
  3. We\u2019re talking in a metaphorical rather than literal sense here. Either way, it just compounds the notion that the recipient of said heart theft would not have the heart to dispose of a picture of the thief, possibly literally in some cases. Love is complicated. ↩<\/a><\/span><\/li>\n<\/ol>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

    \u201c…And that\u2019s why I\u2019m here,\u201d Joe was currently sitting in the most ramshackle office he had ever seen. The place was built out of various pieces of scrap iron, stolen breeze blocks and sheer hope that it wouldn\u2019t fall in on itself. It certainly wasn\u2019t up to code \u2013 all…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[76],"tags":[84,85,83,34,77,66,24,60],"class_list":["post-295","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-the-hitmans-tale","tag-acheron","tag-alphonse-drago-the-dragon","tag-dr-frederick-south","tag-harry-the-fixer-kilroy","tag-joe-vekowski","tag-tartarus","tag-the-city-of-light","tag-the-galactic-finders-of-the-tserulian-monastery"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.payneful.co.uk\/tales-of-sin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/295","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.payneful.co.uk\/tales-of-sin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.payneful.co.uk\/tales-of-sin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.payneful.co.uk\/tales-of-sin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.payneful.co.uk\/tales-of-sin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=295"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.payneful.co.uk\/tales-of-sin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/295\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.payneful.co.uk\/tales-of-sin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=295"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.payneful.co.uk\/tales-of-sin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=295"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.payneful.co.uk\/tales-of-sin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=295"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}