"Once upon a time there was a little boy with a big dream."
THWACK!
Blood sprayed out the mouth of a man tied up in a chair. "Pl-please man I didn't m-mean to-"
THWACK! CRACK!
Blood stopped dripping as a tooth flew out his mouth. Now it was pouring
"He grew up in poverty, always wanting for more. Rightfully so I'd say. Nobody should live the way you did ha ha." The attacker looked down at the victim through his one eye. With only one dim light dangling over the dark and enclosed room, the smile could not be any clearer on the attacker's face.
"Pl-pleash man! I only did what did I could to surv-"
THWACK!
"BE QUIET VINCE! I AM TELLING ABOUT YOUR LIFE'S PATHETIC STORY!" The attacker shouted, hitting him across the other side of his face with a metal pipe. He then grabbed a fist full of Vince's hair and pulled his head up to meet his own.
"I didn't set up this abandoned house in the middle of nowhere so that you can interrupt me. I did it because no one should be there for you in your final moments and I did it because no one should hear your side of the story." He whispered cooly to Vince.
Quietly Vince started crying knowing that there was nothing he could do. All he could do was cry and wait for all of this to be over.
"Now where was I…. oh yes poverty. Ahem, as I was saying, that little boy's name was Vince and in order to get out of his miserable little life he had an idea. That idea started with a theft…."
One hour later.
"And that's how little Vince grew up to be a big strong underground drug dealer and sex trafficker! Can I get a round of applause?" The attacker spread his arms out and had the biggest smile on his blood covered face. He waited but only silence remained. "Hmph go figure I guess."
He walked over to the now disfigured Vince whose head was hanging down. As the light dangled across the room it uncovered sprayed blood across the walls as well as a little puddle of it on the floor.
"Hey buddy I noticed you've been quiet for the last fifteen minutes or so. Was hearing your life's story that interesting to you? I mean it is good to get an outside perspective on the whole thing. Makes you realise where it all went wrong you know?"
The silence was deafening.
"Though I guess life didn't really give you the best of cards huh? Seeing as how you ended up tied to a chair broken and dead to an assassin like me." He crouched down and turned the quiet Vince's head to his.
"You did have it good for a while I must say… got a wife, a kid and a lot of money.... something you took away from so many innocent people." He said in a raspy voice. The assassin stared at the now dead body for about a minute before snapping out of his stupor.
He stood up and walked towards the exit door feeling slightly disappointed. "You know Vinny I really wanted to see your reaction to the fact that I've rigged this whole place to explode. Would have been the cherry on top haha."
He walked out the door and when he was a short distance away from the house he turned around and saluted. "Goodbye Vincent Williams, you were one of the worst scumbags I've met on this earth but you sure as hell filled my pockets with decent cash thanks to this job. I, Kurt Rossana, have dutifully fulfilled my role as executioner and will be sending you off to the afterlife.
He pressed the detonator button, but nothing happened.
He pressed again but still nothing. After furiously clicking it finally went off.
BOOM!
"Ah there it is." Kurt watched as the fire consumed the house whilst holding the salute pose with a smile on his face.
After about a minute he got in his car and left for headquarters to report on a successful mission. "Life is good." He commented leaving behind the blazing light of fire in the distance.
Two hours later Kurt arrived at a bar in the suburb part of the city. Its neon sign glowing out the name 'TIPSY'S TIT'.
'I swear that name will never not get me,' he thought to himself, smirking. Parking his car around the side of the bar Kurt stood at the front door when two men stopped him.
"Who are you?" The short and bald man asked. "It's me, Shorty B., Kurt."
Next was the tall but lanky man, "Weee don't know no Kuurt~" he said with his hands on his hips while bending to take a good look at him.
"Do we really have to do this every time I come back from a job, Lanky T?" Kurt said feeling exhausted after a long night out.
Lanky T. squinted his eyes and took a long good look at him. Then he realised, "Oh hey Shorty B. I think this is Rossana!"
"Kurt Rossana?" he replied.
"Yeah, the one eye! This one got an eyepatch, look!"
Shorty B. stood on his tippy toes and also squinted his eyes. It was then he realised, "OH HEY IT IS YOU ONE EYE HAHA!"
"No need to shout Shorty B. I'm right in front of you." Kurt said smiling while covering his ears. "So, can you tell me why you stopped me? I could've been a customer looking for a drink for all you know?"
"How could we not recognise you Rossana? I mean just look at your face all covered in blood!" Lanky T. pointed to his face.
Kurt took out his phone and, using the neon sign as a source of light, looked at his reflection. 'Oh, would you look at that.' he thought to himself.
"Sorry about that guys haha. Guess I got too immersed in my work this time. Didn't even notice it until now."
"You're lucky it was us who noticed one eye. 'Round these parts people would've seen you all bloodied up like that thinking you're injured and jumped you on site." Shorty B. warned.
"I'd love for them to try." Kurt said under his breath.
"Huh? What was that Rossana?"
"Nothing Lanky T. Listen, can I go inside already? I need to report in." Kurt quickly replied.
"Oh yeah yeah go on in one eye but make sure you clean up alright? Don't want any drunkards popping off and giving us problems."
"Sure thing Shorty B. thanks."
The two guards let Kurt in and after rinsing his face in the bathroom, made his way to the main floor. "Hi Mary, is the boss downstairs?" With country music playing in the background, old drunks were sleeping at their tables and middle-aged drunks were arguing in who knows what gibberish language. The only person sober was the old barmaid, Mary.
"Hey kid." Mary greeted while wiping down a mug. "He is and has been expecting you for about an hour already."
'Oh no.'
"Oh no indeed kid."
"How did you-"
"It's written all over your face." Mary smirked. "Now hurry and skedaddle."
Kurt took a quick shot of a glass nearby and made his way behind the counter into the private door.
"HEY THAT'S MY SHOT" an old man jolted awake.
"Now now sugar, that was just some weird hallucination you're seeing. Ain't nothing happened to your liquor." Mary cooed towards the old man.
"Rig-right ju-just so-some hal-….zzzzzzzzzz." He fell asleep again.
Making his way downstairs Kurt prepared himself for a long lecture on punctuality. When he entered the room, he saw a mean looking old man with sleeked back hair and a finely groomed moustache with no beard. Though he may be old in years one could see that those bulging muscles beneath that fine tailored suit meant no joke.
"Kurt..." he said slowly.
"Boss," he greeted back.
"Tell me, Kurt, how many years has it been since you've started this line of work hmm?"
"Four years boss." Kurt replied.
"Four years huh..and yet you keep on making the same error over and OVER AND OVER!" He slammed his fist on the wooden table breaking it in half. He walked over to Kurt and stood tall in front of him.
"Kurt you're one of, if not, my best men. I took you in when you were just a naive twenty-year-old spewing nonsense of upholding justice and beating every gangster you come across. I've trained you into a deadly weapon and showed you where to properly point your fists. So, tell me Kurt, why can't you show me the simplest of courtesy and arrive at base on time?"
"I've already texted you that I've finished the mission boss." Kurt replied not backing down.
"You didn't answer me."
Kurt remained silent.
"ANSWER ME!"
Still nothing.
"Kurt, what I need and what this organisation needs are diligent soldiers who follow orders to a T. Not some lunatic who gets high off of killing his targets."
"They deserve it." Kurt shot back. "Every second of it."
"Maybe they do but we don't need a soldier who cannot follow a simple rule that says to 'be back on time'. I have an organisation to run, calls to make and tasks to give out. I won't tolerate your tardiness anymore. Hand over your phone Kurt, you're out."
Kurt's heart started hammering against his chest. "What? boss I-"
"Don't make me repeat myself. Hand over your phone and leave. The decision has been made." The boss said coldly.
After staring at each for what felt like an eternity Kurt finally handed over his phone which mainly contained all the contacts he made over the years doing assassinations as well as all the money he saved up.
"Go see Mary after this. She'll give you a new phone that has an account with your money in it." The boss took out the sim card and burnt it just before snapping the phone in half.
Kurt left with his hands in his pockets and head down. The rest of the night was a blur. He got the new phone from Mary but didn't notice what she was saying to him. Everything sounded muffled. He ignored the two bodyguards out front and just drove straight home.
Forty-five minutes later and Kurt arrived at his beaten down apartment building. He climbed the stairs and opened the door to his room.
'Guess I don't need to live in this mess after today seeing as I won't be taking on jobs anymore.' he thought to himself thinking that if something were to go wrong on a job, he could always lay low here.
Glancing at his new phone he saw the number '$5,000,000' in his bank account.
He then took off all his clothes and plopped down face first onto the bed.
'Get a nice new place tomorrow then find a lowkey job. What could go wrong?' he thought before finally getting some shut eye.