| A House of Cards |
John Huckson stood at his friend's funeral. He had known Miles Johnson for ten years, the man had been his mentor, like a father, and he had been killed by the man John had been tracking for three years. Miles's wife was not present, nobody had been able to find her, she was presumed dead. A flag was draped over the coffin, and Francis Garwin, Miles's best friend of forty years and fellow agent, was speaking. After the funeral, John got into his car and took out his cell phone. He selected "Carl Wilson" from his phonebook and waited.
"Carl, has he talked yet?" asked John.
"Bastard hasn't said much of anything, we got him damn near mummified, he just keeps trying to kill himself," said Carl.
"Let me know if he talks, have you even found out his name?" asked John.
"No," said Carl.
The mysterious Ten of Spades had no identity, his fingerprints weren't even in the system, he was a shadow, just like the recently killed Jack of Spades.
"I doubt he has one," said John, "I'll talk to you later Carl."
John pressed "End" and put his phone into his pocket. Greston City was four hours away, he had a lot of driving to do. John turned the key in the ignition, drove out of the parking lot, and drove off towards Greston.
|
A white journalist ran towards a woman walking across the street. She was around fifty, her hair streaked with gray, and her face displayed only distaste for the man approaching her.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Cew, but I have something that may be interesting..." said the journalist.
"What do you have that could interest me in any way?" asked Cew.
"Well, take a look at this..." said the journalist, handing her a picture.
Cew's face became pale, her eyes widened, and her face displayed utter fear.
"Wh-where did you get these?!" she sputtered.
"That is information that I will not give, and don't think about having me killed. I have given a few more of those pictures to a lawyer, in an envelope, with orders to open them and show them to the media if my death were to occur. If you want to talk, go to the diner on the corner of fourth and Frenson at four-thirty sharp, no bodyguards, don't be late..." said the journalist before walking off.
A tear slid down the woman's cheek, she had hoped that her affair was over.
***
"So...you decided to show up?" asked the journalist, "And no guards..."
"Now, we can be reasonable, I don't have a million to give!" said the woman.
"Really? According to my sources you have three billion dollars that the United States government knows about, so hold the lies, I'm not stupid..." said the journalist.
The woman didn't speak, that was her plan, to lie, and she knew it wouldn't work.
"One million dollars for a good public image is nothing," said the journalist.
"Fine...I'll have it wired to your account, but as soon as those pictures see the light of day, you're dead..." said the woman.
The man held up a tape recorder and played it, it copied her words to her.
"I want an extra two million a year for that little comment," said the journalist.
The woman, angered, got up and spit in the journalist's face.
"You'll have your money you greedy bastard!" yelled the woman, and without another word she got up and walked out the door. She got into her car, turned the key in the ignition, and the car exploded. The journalist got up and walked outside to the car, swiftly dropping a playing card onto the sidewalk, he quickly turned into an alleyway, and then into another, and when the cops would arrive three minutes later, they would find the CEO of Cew Industries burnt to a crisp and the calling card of the greatest assassin in the world on the corner of fourth and Frenson.
|
John Huckson sat stuck in the traffic a mile away from Greston City. He was bored, very bored. At this time all of Greston got off work and commuted to the suburbs and other cities, at this time it took half an hour for the traffic to move a mile. He had tried to beat the traffic, but he didn't due to a very large wreck on the highway fifty miles back. His phone rang in his pocket and he smiled. A phone ringing in this madness would give him something to do, somebody to talk to. John looked and saw that Carl was calling, he answered it, hoping to hear that Ten had talked.
"Hello?" asked John.
"John, Ace has killed again, he killed Angela Cew down in Wesnock, it was a mess. He used an undectable ignition carbomb, it injured a few bystanders as well. Cew was burnt to a crisp, her son, James Cew, has taken up the company, he recieved it as if he knew he would and immediately fired around five hundred people. I have a feeling that he's the client, but we can't touch him, there isn't any evidence," said Carl.
"Alright, I'm heading up to Illinois to ask Mr. Cew a few questions tomorrow, I'm heading over to HQ as soon as I get through the traffic," said John, "See ya soon..."
|
John walked through a door in a back alleyway behind the Pole Demon, a local strip club. The stairs were made of wood, but the wood had never been treated in any way. John walked up the stairs carefully, on his first day he had accidentally broken a stair and the landlord had mercilessly charged John twice the amount the stair was worth. John reached the top, knocked ten times, and Carl opened the door.
"John, come in," said Carl.
John walked into the room. Every corner had a mirror on it so that one person could see the whole house from one spot, there was also a small *beep*nal on the wall consisting of a few shotguns and five MP5s. Spare clips for all of them rested on a small table next to them. John walked straight through and walked into a small room where Ten sat under the watch of George. The small task force was underfunded and had little manpower as none of the top dogs thought that Ace could be caught, John planned to prove them wrong. John sat across from Ten and Ten eyed him as a tiger would eye a gazelle.
"So, Ten...what's your real name?" asked John.
"I have no name, only a number, I am Ten, the Ten of Spades," said Ten.
John suddenly punched Ten in the face.
"I am not messing around today, I am not in the mood, what's your name?" asked John.
"Name? What's that!?" asked Ten with a smile.
John got up and punched Ten in the ribs, Ten let out a howl and turned his head to look at John.
"Gonna have t-" he was cut off by another punch in the side, "DAMMIT! I have a kidney stone you ass!"
The victim had let a weakness surface.
John punched him another two times and Ten let out two cries of pain.
"Dammit! Fine, my name's John Doe!" yelled Ten with sarcasm.
John punched him again.
"Dammit! Fine, the name's Clark Kent! I used to work for the Daily Planet!" yelled Ten.
John kicked him this time.
"Ohhohohoho!" yelled Ten in pain, "I'm George-George-George of the Jungle and I've better watch out for the tree!"
John punched him.
"Ace is going to burn your wife and torture your kids!" declared Ten.
John drew his pistol and aimed it at Ten's head.
"Now, give me a reason I shouldn't blow a hole in your head," announced John.
Ten said nothing and Carl ran into the room, pushing John's hand away.
"The hell are you doing! Punching and kicking are one thing but his head has some intel!" yelled Carl.
John picked his gun up and holstered it.
"Carl, stay with him, all men can crack," said John before walking from the room, he walked outside and got into his car. He put the key into the ignition and turned it, he then put the car in drive and drove off towards the airport.
|
John walked out of the airport, his beretta safely in his pocket. He hadn't been allowed to keep it with him of course, but it was allowed in his checked bag in pieces. John held his suitcase as he hailed a cab, the cab drove up, John opened the door and got in.
"Where to buddy?" asked the cabby.
"The closest motel," said John.
The cab went off, and three minutes later John was at a decent motel. John payed the cabby and walked into the office.
"I need one room for two nights please," said John.
"Alrighty then," said the old woman at the counter.
John paid her for two nights and recieved a key.
"You're in room two-one-two," said the woman.
John nodded and walked out, he walked up a staircase and found his room. He walked in to find a typical motel room. He put his suitcase on his bed and opened it up, inside were several gun parts. John assembled his Beretta and loaded in a clip. He turned on the safety and put it in his holster. He then brushed his teeth, he then glared at his reflection. The stress of his job had added a few wrinkles to his face, and he had a few gray hairs. Bags were also growing under his brown eyes. He then walked out and put on a pair of sweat pants and a white tank top. He put his beretta under his pillow and layed down, falling asleep a half an hour later.
|
Lmao, Name stealing from Hitman !!!
COPYRIGHT BREACH!
[ Nice story btw :D ]
|
Yeah, I knew it was copying the casino one when I did it, but I really didn't have a choice...it was the best name...
|
[lol shoot ive played Hitman a lot and I didnt even think of that....I think Rev just lives to annoy you] =p
|
John walked through the sliding doors of Cew Industries and walked towards the elevator doors across the lobby, he knew that the elevator would require a keycard, but his main objective was to attract attention. If he would've approached the guard, it would've taken longer, but in taking the initiative he would take the guard by surprise, and thus give him no chance to warn his boss of a questioning, that way he would have little time to come up with a web of lies. His objective worked, the guard ran across the lobby towards John.
"Sir! Sir! What is your business here?" asked the guard.
John took out his badge and showed it to the guard.
"I'm Agent Huckson, I'm here to ask Mr. Cew a few questions," said John.
"One moment please," said the guard, reaching for his radio.
"If you ever want to get a job that pays more than ten thousand a year, you'd better let me through, because I'm an impatient man," said John.
His hand stopped, "Fine sir, right this way."
The security guard led John across the lobby to the elevator, inside was a keypad with a slot. The guard put his keycard into the slot and pressed the numbers "36270" into the keypad. The elevator began it's ascension and the guard turned his head to look at John.
"So what're you going to ask him?" asked the guard.
"It's none of your business," said John.
"I guess it's not," said the guard.
The doors opened and the guard led John down the hall and through a set of double doors. Inside was a man of roughly twenty-five years, he looked up to see John and dismissed the guard.
"You have the look of somebody I don't want to talk to," said James Cew.
"I am somebody you really don't want to talk to," said John, "Why'd you have your mother killed?"
Cew's face went white, his expression a mixture of surprise and shock.
"If you tell anybody, you'll be next, you hear me?" asked Cew.
"Next?" asked John.
"If you ruin my life, I'll end yours, and your wife, and your kids!" yelled Cew.
"All I want is money, a half a million a year," said John.
"Done!" yelled Cew.
"And, I want to know how you contacted your assassin," said John.
"I dialed...I dialed a number, here, take it," said James, throwing an index card at John. John picked it up and walked out of the room.
***
Reporter Robert Anderson sat in his office at the American Network News building in Chicago, a package on his desk from an unknown man. He opened it to find a tape recorder, he pressed play and a conversation between an unkown person and James Cew played. Robert reached for his phone in a rush...
***
The security guard reached the bottom in the elevator and ran out, he ran to the desk and grabbed his cell phone from it.
"Arthur, this is Stephen, we've got a problem," he started.
"What kind of problem...Stephen," said a masked voice.
"A very nasty salesman showed up in Cew's office, I think he's going to sell it to him," said the guard.
"That's fine, what was his name?" asked the man.
"Huckson," said the guard.
"Thank you Stephen," said the man before hanging up.
|
Outside of Cew Industries, hundreds of reporters gatherered. The doors to Cew Industries locked down. On the top floor, James Cew watched the mob with fear. He heard footsteps and turned to see a man wearing a blue suit, a blue tie, and a black shirt. He looked up to see that the man's face matched that of the agent that had visited him earlier.
"What do you want?" asked Cew, "We have a deal, get lost."
The man drew a silenced pistol from inside his coat, it was a beretta. He aimed it at Cew and fired three times, missing the first time on purpose to match the accuracy of a certain government agent. Cew fell to the floor with two bullet wounds in his chest. The man walked towards Cew and shot him in the head. He took a piece of what looked like tape from his pocket and planted a set of prints on the door to Cew's office. He then ran to the elevator and on the way down, did the same to the elevator's button. He started walking out towards the front doors, but the lobby security guard blocked him.
"Mr. Huckson," said the security guard, "What are you doing here? Well, go out through the parking garage..."
The man was taken into the parking garage, and when Cew's security guard would discover the body five minutes later, he would call the police. And they would discover, based on the fingerprints and the security guard spotting him leaving, that he was murdered by a Mr. John Huckson.
|
The ceiling fan went around and around as John laid in bed, his gun was at the nightstand, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed the number Cew gave him. It rang, and a female voice answered.
"Hello, did you find us by referral or advertisement?" asked the woman.
"Referral," responded John.
Suddenly, the phone clicked, and a man answered.
"Huckson, how many men have you put away?" asked the man.
"What? How do you know my name?" asked John.
"Well, you were a police officer for three years before quitting and working on becoming an agent, how many men did you put away?" asked the man, "Because, you're going to meet them..."
Suddenly, John heard footsteps outside his window. He ran to see that four black sedans were outside with a large van that said SWAT on the side. The hotel door broke open and a metal object landed in the room, a flash of light followed. He fell to the ground and felt a hard object hit his head...
[[OOC: Yay cliffhangers, don't worry, he isn't dead. Going to work on a a story of my make believe ancestor, Gavis Cidellus, before doing the next one in this series.]]
|
| [Top] Pages: 1 |
