Basic Instincts
 Race Keneally
· Hitman
Posts: 60
(4/7/06 8:21 am)
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A Small Hitch [Alicia]
Another job was almost over, that was all he could think as the morning had broken on him. Race had lain in bed alone thinking about how he’d finally got this particular targets patterns right, knew where to strike, when to strike and in which way it would be better. Plus the man was going to leave a nice wad of cash for him, well the man’s death was. It was the person who ordered the hit which would leave Race with a fair bit of money. Probably one of the best pays he had been offered in a while, this bloke had seriously pissed off all the wrong people and was going to pay for it in blood, his own blood. Did this man know what fate was waiting for him? And if he knew did he think he could out run it that whatever offence he had caused would go without someone coming after him for it? Had this been any other city, even in the same state he probably could have done so, maybe with only the police coming after him or a good beating to make him cough up. But not here in Savage, here, you pissed someone off they’d rather have you dead than running around anywhere in the world. It was probably one of the reasons why Race hung about in such a dark city, death was his trade and in Savage death could be charged at a high price. Perhaps it was cold to think off it all in such a way, but the British hit man couldn’t have cared less really, they all had there own trades in life and he just happened to be a hired killer. A hired killer who always delivered the goods he promised. Then again he had a few people who tried to swindle him as well, after he’d done the hit make up some imagerinary reason why they couldn’t pay up. They didn’t last long after that, which went without saying.
So the brown haired man hoped that this job didn’t turn out anything like that, hoping that he could go in kill the man, then collect his pay and be on his way with dealing with the next job which always seemed to come without much, if any, delay. Then again he was in the business that was most called about in Jones City, more affectionately dubbed Savage City by the locals. Something which Race was not, a local. He was an outsider living on the inside of something that surpassed everyone involved. He had no ties to any of three main driving forces behind the city, he knew off and maybe had passed by a conversation with the Old Town Girls, and yes occasionally had taken a job out on one or two of them or they happened to get in the way if he was going after their john of the moment. He didn’t avoid the law enforcement he just didn’t make himself overly known to them, a reappearing face of a stranger was what he tried to remain. He dealt with only the don of the mafia, the rest of the mafia were just like everyone else to him; fair game. Though as of late the don had only called upon him a few times which meant a lot of what was going on with them was inside jobs stuff he was not needed for. Nothing he was complaining about since it left him open to do other jobs.
Like this one he’d been laying in bed thinking about for so long before getting up and showering then pottering on with his day, collecting some papers and information for the job that would proceed this one, this one which would be ended tonight. The next job he had to do absorb him for a few hours, thinking it was a rather interesting case and something he could do with little planning really. It was straight foreword. He liked them like that. After reading through this information he’d gone about more mundane activities for the rest of the day making dinner for him and Norma, since apparently it was his turn. Making sure the washing was done correctly since she had started to form a habit of just shoving everything in at the same time, making him loose count of how many of his white shirts had come out the wash pink and every colour of the rainbow possible. It had been funny the first time, but by the eighth time it happened he figured he’d have to start doing the washing. Though still couldn’t quite stop getting slightly flustered and embarrassed when he pulled out a pair of practically see through thongs from a pile of her washing. She was in her sixties and there was no a pair of floral huge ‘granny’ knickers in sight that he knew off, and if there were she did a good job of hiding them. In fact, where most women her age would be carrying around a packet of hard boiled sweets and making tea. Norma seemed to possess a packet of extra pleasure, flavoured condoms and using a leather whip.
This quirk of the woman he lodged for made him smile as he climbed in his car, the only gun he needed tucked in it’s holster that was hidden on the inside of his leather jacket, a most useful thing. The entire process of tonight was already burned into his mind, finding the man, killing him, going home and receiving the money, though that took a few days to come through for obvious reasons. The night had descended on the city almost suddenly making it easier for Race to move about without being noticed, especially since he always wore black clothes when out on a job. Though as he pulled up just around the corner from his hits apartment in the slums off all places, he noticed that the lights were off making it seem as if the man was out, though it could be a trick maybe he had a warning or a tip off. Maybe. Race tried to weight up whether it was a good idea to go and check just encase someone saw him and reported his appearance once the man turned up dead. It wasn’t worth the risk, plus Race knew there was another place this particular man was known to hang around at. Saint Anne’s. The abandoned catholic church that everyone believed was haunted and overly superstitious people would not go there, though Race couldn’t have cared less really, if that’s were this man was when he found him then that’s where he would die. Oddly fitting, now that he thought about it as he turned on the engine threw his car into drive and burnt off towards the church.
A slow relaxing song played from his car radio though it was rare to hear something like that on the radio, Race listened to radio on a regular basis, listened mainly to find out what was going on in the city and when he was waiting for something about one of his jobs to be done, normally they were on the day after he’d taken them out. Another case the police got to throw in the unsolved pile. That thought made a smile curve onto his lips as he grew closer to the church before rolling up by the side of it turning off his lights and coming to a pause then turning off the engine, the sounds from the radio dying. There he sat covered in darkness listening and waiting for his prey to come.
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