Adderson
5am: Alarm rings.
5:02am: Wake up.
5:05am: Roll over, hit
the snooze.
5:25am: Alarm rings.
5:26am: Glance at
clock, put pillow on head, ignore any noise.
5:28am: Banging on the
wall from next door.
5:28:35am: ‘FUCK OFF!’
5:30am: Alarm silences.
5:34am: Sigh. You know
you should really get up.
5:37am: Fuck it.
5:45am: Alarm rings.
5:45:26am: Banging on
the wall from next door.
5:45:31am: Throw alarm
clock at wall.
5:45:54am: You’ll need
to buy a new one now. Damn.
5:47am: Get out of bed,
make sure you step over the remains of that alarm clock now.
5:47:22am: ‘Shit!’ You
stepped on a piece of broken plastic didn’t you?
5:48am: Hobble to the
bathroom, leave a small trail of blood across you nice, clean wooden flooring.
5:52am: Get in shower.
6:12am: Get out shower.
6:13am: Ponder
absentmindedly over which clothes to wear today. Get dressed.
6:24am: Open arms
cupboard.
6:26am: Select three of
your favourites.
6:37am: Clean
profusely.
6:51am: Check time.
Shit. You promised Kyla you would pick her up remember?
6:52: Throw rags on
bed.
6:52:12am: Place arms
on person.
6:55am: Grab car keys
and leave house – quick now!
6:57am: Get in car,
start engine, put your favourite album from your iPod into the system and allow
the slow
ballads to overwhelm you for thirty seconds.
6:59:03am: Drive.
COMPLETE THE DAY.
5am Tuesday: Alarm
rings.
Rinse and repeat.
*
Adderson
never wondered what would have ever happened if this situation ever arose. It could
have happened, to anyone, anywhere, yet, here, now in this very present time
and room, it did. It was almost mildly, ironically, piss-takingly annoyingly,
amusing. This was the first target of the day, in fact it was the only target
for the day and considering how fantastically well this was going down already,
well, Adderson knew that this was just going to be one of those days. Today’s
order of politician wasn't like any other day, same old same old.
Robert Singway.
He
was a portly fellow, eyes the shade of the most vivid blue and hair swept
tidily to the left. His usually pristine black suit was crinkled in various
places and his red tie was slightly undone at the top and hung limply tucked
under and to the left of his suit jacket. He had done the usual rounds when
Adderson has stepped into his office, the ‘who are you?’, ‘what do you want?’
‘how did you get in?’ it had all been heard before. A casual shrug and unclipping of the gun
holstered under the shirt and led him to begin his first phase panic, as it was
liked to be called. He had stood abruptly out of his chair, gripping the edges
of the fine, pine and heavily varnished table, very expensive it looked.
Fidgeting his hands here and there, he was probably searching for the panic
button that was often located at the bottom of the table for priority
politicians such as himself, however Adderson had already snipped the circuitry
to this particular button about one month ago and now, with a slight smirk and
slight tilt of the head, the entertainment began.
‘I guess I have about approximately
two minutes before security comes right? I guess I better make this quick.’
Robert
shook with fear, he wanted nothing more than to scream like his five year old
daughter would if you were to take one of her favourite dolls away…like the
world had come to an end around him, but this thought was only played with and would
do nothing than probably only relieve him of his life a lot quicker than he
intended. They were stood there, so impassive about the gun in their hand and
the murderous glint about their eye that for one moment he seemed to feel like
he were dealing with some sort of robotic force. Then the arm rose slightly,
the handheld jiggling in anticipation and he felt the small and yet warm stream
of urine trickle down his leg.
‘Did you just piss
yourself?’
It
was a simple question, one that Adderson had only ever been able to ask one or
twice on a take out. It was one of the good ones. The smile that stretched
across the face was one that supposedly could be compared to that of the
Cheshire Cat or something similar, it could be supposed. Supposedly. Mr. Robert
Singway decided that amongst his fear and now wet trousers that he would stall
this creature until security came in. An easy task right?
Phase Two.
It
begins. You've had the fear, the immediate desperation of omgwtf, and now it
was the logic. A victim’s logic is never fantastic. In fact majority of the
time it’s down right fucking stupid. It was here that you would end up with the
decision one, the fight or flight resolve, and neither outcomes were good. Adderson
watched, peaked interest as Singway’s face contorted a variety of different
emotions – yes, the moron wore his feelings on his face. What a dick. – and
Adderson could watch and decipher each and every one of them. Yep. There he
goes.
Fear Anger desperation fight run negotiate.
NEGOTIATE
There
we go.
The
decision that was going to get him killed.
‘What do you want? Is
it money? Is that what you want? I can get you money? Power? Knowledge? What
exactly are you doing here?’ Adderson’s head inclined forward in about a twenty
five degree angle precisely. Precision is important here. The gun was replaced
back in its holster and thick heavy boots almost glided across the immaculate
pine flooring. Was everything pine in here? Oh look at the cupboards, pine?
Yep. Fantastic. A ratta tat tat against the table from Addersons fist made
Robert cling to the table even harder, knuckles turning a pale white colour.
That’s it, move back now, you've terrified the pray now, time to play a bit of
a different game. The lighting from the ceiling hung in almost a majestic
fashion, its glittering diamante design glistening back on itself; it looked
pretty gay for a man of his stature. Adderson looked up and watch it sway; it
seemed to move in rhythm with the sound of the heart beating inside, slow and
steady. Not compared to Roberts of course that pounded so fast you could almost
tangibly hear it echo around the room.
It was a very interesting light.
‘Are…are you going to
kill me?’
‘Yes.’
Simple
answer for yet again another simple question. For a politician this guys
negotiating technique really sucked. Adderson moved back, changing weight from
the ball of one foot to the other, hands tucked neatly one in the other.
Phase Three.
Confuse
the victim. Make them feel like they have a chance. They will be putty in your
hands you know. Robert edged slowly to the left of his desk, and here is where
the amusing and completely ridiculously situation that was slightly ironic in
all this arose. As he apparently inconspicuously moved to the left, realising
that the two minute security rule seemed to be non-existent as of this moment
he had reached slowly down for his gun in the back of his desk draw. After the
voiced confirmation that indeed this person would not be leaving without his
life today Robert decided he really had nothing to lose in all this. But you
see, holding a gun to the face of someone who is here to kill you isn't the
most practical and clever of ideas. Adderson tutted, wagging a finger in the
air.
‘I wouldn't do that if I were you…’ The sing song voice rang clear and in time
with the wagging digit in the air and Robert stilled but all for a second
before, with reflexes not thought of any backstabbing politician he whipped
open his draw, grabbing out the small handheld and grasping it with both hands.
The gun shook violently, the nervous tension running through his arms and out
the end of the small firearm clutched in his grubby paws.
‘Come any closer and
I’ll shoot! I promise! I will! Back I say!’ Adderson laughed, one of those
barking laughs that make you jump and your back shiver and all your hairs stand
on end. One of those laughs of someone you really don’t want to piss off. Here
is w
‘Do you even know why I
am here Robert Singway?’ The man faltered, the handgun in his hand lowered
slightly, his eyebrow raised and he made some weird motion to the side with his
head for Adderson to carry on.
‘I’m here because I
come from the other side. I see what people like you do to people like me
everyday. Nothing you could do with that gun will ever compare to what you do
with peoples lives. You think it can’t get worse than this? While you sit here,
shrouded in pine pointing that pistol at my face, people out there are dying,
crying, mourning for the loss of ones they loved because you are part of a
system that is happy to climb on others to reach the top. You fear people like
me, you fear what we can do but in reality…you are the ones who create people
like me. This is one of the last things you are going to hear and by the time
you finally decide to pull that trigger, you’ll already have this pistol here,’
Adderson motioned to the gun still sitting comfortably in the holster, ‘lodged
in your mouth and right at that moment, you’ll think ‘Fuck. If only I hadn't been an arsehole.’ Robert laughed, one of those nervous laughs that mean you
don’t believe quite what you’re hearing.
‘You really believe you
can thre-’ As if by some magical lapse in time, a gun was lodged firmly in his
mouth causing him to choke and lose grip on his own pistol.
‘I’m extremely good at
my job Mr. Singway.’
Addersons
fingers twitched under the trigger, this was one of the best parts of the job.
Phase Four. The Final Kill. The look of terror that gleamed in the eyes of the
victim, the way their bodies shook with the pure anticipation of that one
bullet, the sweat that crawled so beautifully down their forehead. It was all a
magical experience for Adderson, who lips quirked up.
‘It’s nothing personal.
You do your job I do mine right?’ There was a muffled yell before the trigger
was finally pulled and blood, brains and all the good stuff splattered back
against the wall, like a spectacular piece of artwork and Adderson took a step
back to appreciate a job well done. The light above rattled gently and moved a
little quicker, almost as though it found this scene as equally as
exhilarating. A banging at the door alerted the last person that in fact, it
was now time to leave. Carefully placing the politician’s gun onto a clean
piece official government paper, Adderson wrote:
The UKB is no longer a place of the
free. Fuck you and fuck your politics.
Sincerely, the Liberation.
When the door was finally broken open, the window of the
sixth floor was wide open and Adderson was already long gone.
*
Uncle
Bobby
Bobby
had never been a patient man or even a man of good standing morals and even as
he sat, polishing his baby (a Dragunov SVD Sniper – his favourite, Russian) he
could not wait for the news of his prodigal child’s return and the epic
retelling of the death of one of the small time Senators. Small fry were always
the winner in assassinations. The fact they never saw it coming always gave the
entire mission a kick. Apparently. Moving from the desk, he softly placed his
beaut down and reached for the remote, turning up the volume on one of the many
televisions broadcasting the latest news. Excellent. His death had already hit
the news.
‘…can confirm now that this was an
act of terrorism from none other than the Jericho Liberation. This is the sixth
killing this month and Government officials say they are eager to finally put a
stop this groups particular reign of terror.’
Bobby
gave a hearty laugh at that, ‘Jesus, the shit they come out with nowadays.’ He
turned back and resumed his position at the desk, picking up his sweet, sweet
Marie and holding her close, spitting on a cloth as he did so and rubbing her
gently.
‘…ohn McCain had this to say. ‘We
are urging people with any information to come forward, \Robert Singway was a
loved member of the community and the panel. It’s such a shame to lose such a
loyal member to his Jericho. KEEP THE UKB PURE. BLESS YOU ALL.’
‘Fucking
lunatics. Don’t they know we’re all on the same side ‘ere? What a crock of-’
Bobby turned when another screen caught his eye. This particular screen was one
they watched closely, very closely, to the point that the Liberation had three
informants on the inside and surveillance on the screen for this particular
screen. Putting Marie down again and grasping out for the remote he shut of the
UKB Working News off and switched to turned up the volume to Screen 999 as they
called this. This one controlled the broadcasting of the UKB’s political
network, anything that was broadcast on any news reel anywhere in the country
had to come through this one first and currently, they were playing a rather
interesting tune.
‘High Chancellor Bennet, what do
you have to say on the matter?’ Bennet turned to the camera, a frown adorning
his elderly features.
‘Well all I can say is that the
loss of Singway is incredibly painful and we can guarantee that we will bring
the Liberation down however, from this moment, all cases involving the Jericho
Liberation will be closed effective immediately and until time that our great
Minister Jericho, sees fit to restart trial.’
Bobby leaned closer to the screen,
as though that would somehow lead him in to the mind of Chancellor. ‘What the
eff’ are you thinkin’ Bennet? What are you up to?’ He turned up the volume even
higher.
‘Chancellor, can you tell us why this is
happening? Is there something wrong within our loyal Government? Is the
Minister giving in to the Liberation?’
‘At this present time we cannot release
any of the Serves of Justice plans concerning the Liberation, however I can
confirm to you now that the Republic of Jericho will NOT be making deals nor
accepting any sort of benefactor from the Liberation. Neither will we be giving
in to any of their demands. They are a group with the intention of promoting
terrorism and war into out country and we will not stand of it. Nor will any
more of our people die today. However, all cases referring to the recent deaths
have been terminated at this present time until which the minister sees fit to
reinstate them. That’s all I have to say. Thank you.’
‘Chancellor! Chancellor!’
Bobby stood almost stupefied. If
that wasn’t setting off warning bells in his head he didn’t know what would.
They weren’t falling for it, they weren’t taking the bait. Killing all these
politicians wasn’t doing anything more than slightly pissing the Minister off.
Of course, he could pull more politicians out of his arse than Bobby could eat
hot dinners. This was a sure fire way to fuck up all of Bobby’s plans though.
‘Well.
Shit.’ The man couldn’t remember a time when he had been this frustrated, well,
there was that trial. The one he’d rather not remember, but there was no way on
this god green Earth that he was going to think about that now. The door behind
him clicked and he turned to see one of his youngest and most prized
possessions. The boy looked at him curiously, his shaggy brown hair fell limply
in his eyes and he clutched a paper tightly in his left hand.
‘It’s
not looking good, sir.’
‘Not
exactly fuckin’ news to me boy, is that what I think it is?’ The boy nodded,
holding one hand out and approaching Bobby, handing him the crinkled sheet with
a smirk.
‘Get
that bollockin’ look off your face kid.’ Immediately the look was gone and
replaced with one of mild indifference. ‘Better.’ Bobby read through the paper,
his eyebrows rising slightly.
‘You
read this?’
‘Yes
sir.’ Bobby folded his arms, crunching the paper into a ball as he did so. ‘And
what do you think of it?’ The kid, who was no more than sixteen, stared
passively.
‘What
do I think sir? The man’s an idiot. Harmless, but dangerous. I would suggest a
take out. Quick and clean.’ Bobby turned away from him, looking up to the
ceiling as he did so. Adderson would kill him if this got out. Arguments about
the boys’ age were always the cause of constant conflictions between the two of
them. But the kid needed a serious mission. Tag along missions and
reconnaissance weren’t good enough anymore. He had been trained to kill, and while
his kill was in the low fifties, he really needed to get out more.
‘You
got yourself a new target. You have one week. I expect a report upon your
return.’ The boys eyes lit up and for a second Bobby thought he had made the
wrong choice in sending him out, but then his face back to its usual impassive
state and once again the personality of a lonely assassin sunk back in.
Perfect.
‘Thank
you sir.’ Bobby waved him away as he turned his concentration back to the
screens. This whole thing really wasn’t going to work though was it?
‘Gareth.’ Bobby turned
to him, the boy stopped mid step and raised and eyebrow. The elder had one arm
slightly outstretched toward the television screen to which he motioned to.
‘Call a fuckin’ meeting and find me Adderson. We got a helluva problem.’
