All You Need Is Kill

[Dan Donovan]

Dan had just opened his mouth to talk when Karl started yelling. His eyes flared with an intensity of their own, of the The f*ck are you trying to do? sort. He heard the whine of the camera's mechanism and the improvised plan clicked.

"Hey, chill the f*ck out!" he exclaimed, raising his hands defensively. "It's not- I mean, that can't be right, can it?" he looked pleadingly toward the concierge.

Donovan put his hands on Karl's shoulder. "Hold a sec, man, I got this, alright?" He brushed invisible lint off Hathaway's shoulder, servile and craven. He nodded emphatically toward Karl as he approached the desk. "Listen, can you check that again?" he said, putting on a sweaty and pathetic grin. "I know that can't be right." He leaned in closer, dropping his voice. "Please check again. This guy..." Dan shook his head. "Man, please!"

[valadaar]

Eddy sighed silently as Kate burst into action. She was going too fast to change anything.  Another one would not have time to repent.

He casually stepped to the side, his hand closing on his own blade.  The "Snick" corresponding with Kates impact.

In an almost unhurried motion, he stepped behind The Bouncer as Kate consumed his focus.

He brought the sharp blade across the back of The bouncer's leg, low and aiming for tendons.

Thou shall not kill

[Murometz]

Outside

The Bouncer stared at her as she lunged, a blinking ox in the way of a speeding chainsaw.

She missed the bulging adam's apple but didn't miss the behemoth's  throat, plunging the blade deep.

The Bouncer's eyes bulged cartoon-like, as he brought one meaty paw toward his throat feebly trying to staunch the red fountain erupting from his neck.

He gurgled something as his kneecap popped and he toppled, but not before the third attack, a tendon-severing slice by Eddy.

As he fell, a clenched fist sought Kate and he managed to connect, striking her awkwardly in the face with a glancing blow. Good thing too, a non-awkward, non-glancing blow from The Bouncer would have killed her, or pretty much anyone. As is, the punch sent her sprawling, and knocked out a tooth, to go along with a broken nose. She sat there, spitting up some blood.

Eddy looked around. All clear. Just the three of them.

The Bouncer made sickening, garbled sounds as he lay in a fetal position, bleeding out like a giant stuck hog. Not dead yet though. The Bouncer could take a lot of damage. Eddy had once seen him walk away from a head on car collision at 60 mph.

Yes, there was a knife in his throat, but still.

[Murometz]

Inside

The mirror-shaded man stared at the pair without any hint of emotion. Then he spoke into a tiny mouthpiece connected to a tiny earpiece, attached to the side of his head.

"There is a Mr. Philip Brill here with an unauthorized guest" He said to himself and waited. Brill, thought Dan, heh, Brill the Thrill. Dan had some second thoughts on the whole trap theory at that moment. So a phone call was made from here by some bad-ass...so what? Maybe no one gave a s**t. The concierge had assumed Dan to be the original card-holder, and that was that...apparently.

"Very well, sir" He then said to Dan, after seemingly receiving some kind of confirmation or instruction.

"Club? Spa? Special floor?" He asked the pair.

[Dan Donovan]

A relieved smile spread across Dan's face. "Hey, thanks, man. You're a big help."

He turned and looked at Karl, making sure his back was to the cameras. "So whaddya say? You wanna go up to the club first? Chat with some of the guys, see what's what?" He waggled his brow for emphasis, hoping Hathaway understood what he was getting at.

[Karl Hathaway]

Karl lets his anger ease off, calming down. Inwardly, he's now more certain this is a trap. All these cameras, and they don't know what this Brill guy looks like? Like there ain't a monitor right there for the concierge to see a picture? Like whoever's on the other end of that phone ain't loadin' up the weapons? Just get the two yokels into the killbox you call an elevator and it's done.

Karl wishes he'd blown the door and gone in hot. Then everyone with a gun would have it out and he'd know who to shoot.

He nods at 'Phil.' "Whatever you think'll be most fun to start.  An' if it don't work, we can always go back to Plan B." A veteran cop like The Bloodhound has to know what Plan B is in military parlance, and though people use the phrase all the time, it can only have one meaning from Karl's lips. When the plan fails, just start shooting.

Karl's eyes move to the staircase, subtly suggesting 'Phil' lead the way away from the killboxes you call elevators, and up to the doors.

[Dan Donovan]

"Yeah, sure," he said, his smile flattening into a thin line. It smelled even worse like a trap now. Whatever kind of club this was, Phil the Thrill would stick out like a sore thumb; the concierge surely knew Donovan wasn't "Mr. Brill." But they were in knee-deep now. No turning back.

"We'll take it from here, bro," he said with a nod. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a Grant, sliding it onto the desk with a wink as he passed by it. "Thanks again."

Walking up the staircase, he put the wallet back into his trench coat pocket and felt for the safety of his pistol. There was surely a metal detector around here somewhere, but a place this swanky didn't strip a man of his firearm and embarrass him. At least at the entrance. Hathaway close behind, Dan climbed the stairs and reached for the handles of the double-doors.

[Kate Hammerhill]

Kate shook her head to clear away the blur, sending a spray of blood across the ground, slightly surprised her target was still clinging to life, but doubtful he'd do so for much longer. She held up a reassuring hand to Eddy, letting him know she was still in the fight. "I've had worse." She manged through say to split lips, wondering briefly about the possibility of a concussion as well, but grateful nothing serious had been broken. Seems he was faster than those muscles suggested, fortunately for her she'd been quicker; this time.

"I just need an injection and a a few minutes." One of the advantages of being able to kick her metabolism into hyper-drive Kate mused,  was an equally increased rate of regeneration. The downside however was a caloric intake requirement during and immediately after those bouts of self healing that rivaled that of The Bouncers. "Keep an eye out while I deal with this." She glanced around her immediate surroundings, spitting a thick thread of blood in the direction of her canceled contract before spotting her tooth next to some discarded fastfood wrappers.

With a wince of pain she inserted the tooth back in its missing socket, grateful the black jacket hid the majority of blood soaking her collar . Now for the needle before her jacked up metabolism called on reserves her body didn't have and sent her into a hypoglycemic coma.

She fumbled with a small plastic case in her left inner coat pocket, withdrawing a short ugly looking needle filled with a thick cloudy syrup. Glucagon, used by diabetics for dangerously low blood sugars, it worked pretty well to keep her conscious while her body went through a state of self restoration. She let out a soft grunt and she jammed it into her side, aiming roughly for her liver and closing her eyes against the swell of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her.

Judging by the lack of gunfire erupting from inside she had a bit of time, time to at least let her body halt the stream of blood down her face and secure her tooth so she could talk again without spitting it across the ground like some victim of end stage radiation poisoning.

[Eddy Stringer]

"Don't take too long. This fellow's not normal. Like us. This might only be an inconvenience."

Don't make Me do it...

[Murometz]

NOW

"Welcome. Be comfortable. Voice-over will pour you a drink. Vodka, Dan? Prune juice for your friend?

THEN

Dan opened the doors and the pair made their way along another corridor, this one wider, the walls adorned with post-modern art and weird sculptures. Soft music playing. Brahms, or one of those guys.

Another door. This one opened up on its own. A beautiful woman dressed in camo fatigues and black beret faced them. Sub machine gun in hand, but calm.

"Mr. Cellophane inquired if you would join him in the library?" She said with an indeterminable accent.

Inside was what appeared to be an upscale gentlemen club's from Victorian era London. Seated in a plush velvet armchair, around a table carved of onyx was Mr. Cellophane.


I didn't know there would be this much talking--Korgoth the Barbarian


A blonde-haired youth, with a horrendous acne problem, got up and shuffled over to the mahogany bar to fix drinks.

"Mr. Cellophane doesn't really suit me anymore, you know. I've long since moved on from wrapping people alive in cellophane. Just yesterday, I sat a guy down in front of a mirror and had the boys peel his face off. Lids and all, couldn't close his eyes. Had to watch himself scream. But I can't exactly rename myself, Mr. Skin-people-in-front-of-mirrors, now can I?"

Mr. Cellophane was an androgynous-looking "fellow" of indeterminable age, dressed in an ebon pantsuit worth more than Dan's car. His features were smooth, snake-like. His long elegant fingers sported the perfect manicure.

Sitting at his table, and standing all around the dining room were gorgeous women dressed in camo fatigues and sporting black berets. Each one held aloft a state-of-the-art sub machine-gun. Could spray a room as quick as they'd look at you.

Apparently Mr. Cellophane was a fan of Ghadafy. Or Borat. Or Both.

"Yes, that was me." Mr. Cellophane answered an unasked question, without a hint of guile in his husky yet feminine voice.

"Phil had overheard things he should not have, and asked me if I'd pay him to whack you...I said, 'yeah sure, why not', and off he went. But, here you are, using his temporary club pass, and you have the old-timer in tow, saving me the trouble, so I thought, what the hell, let's talk."

"There is a madman on the loose. I met him. And I never wish too again. I don't understand his plan but a small part of it seems to be the complete eradication of all the "freaks"...that is, people like you two, in case you're unsure."

He paused in his soliloquy.

Mr. Cellophane studied Karl casually.

"It's true the woman you're looking for, Dr. Phong, is currently, well, *with* the Doctor. His name is Dr. Insano, if you can believe it. Used to be a brilliant scientist blah blah blah blah blah blah...now he is simply insane. Disgusting to look at, impossible to deal with.

His is a madness beyond description. Like the Joker from Batman, but a lot smarter and infinitely more crazy. Even I couldn't wait to get the hell away from him. I even promised I'd help him out..."

"...And that's where you come in, I suppose. In a rare moment of lucidity, the Doctor mentioned that the father of one his--associates--happened to be a freak. The rest you can guess. I told him I would get you here. The Doctor is collecting all freaks, you see...Dr. Phong never stepped foot in Sanctum however, that was Voice-over on the line." Mr. Cellophane tousled the blonde youth's locks, and smiled sensually.

"Since you seem to be missing "muscle" in your little group, what with you two, and your other friends,  I took the liberty of recruiting The Bouncer to join forces with you." Cellophane laughed a little girl's laugh. "He's downstairs somewhere right now, in the Fighting Arena, smashing skulls."

"So what I'm saying is", he summarized, "I may as well help you find the crazy Insano. He's looking for all you anyway. I can simply pass you along to the One. The King in Yellow. He who dreams in Carcosa."



Finally he shut up. He was chatty, this Cellophane, but at least it sped things up. You had to give him that. Of course he left way more unsaid then said.

[Karl Hathaway]

Karl ain't drinking.

Karl listens to the man as he stands, eyes studying everything. Then when the man finishes... Karl starts laughing.

It's a small laugh at first, just a chuckle. Just a tickle of amusement. But it builds, quickly, into a full-throated, down home, kneeslapping guffaw. It's like you just told a good joke while getting hit in the groin by a small child wielding a hammer. It's obviously just the funniest godd**n thing Karl's ever heard. He belts out the laughter until tears roll down his face. Then he spends half a minute recovering, the laughing winding down, little chuckles again, between deep breaths.

"That's all? That's @!#$ing all he wants? Me, dead?" Karl shakes his head. "@!#$. All he hadta to was wait a little longer. I was fixin' to do the job for him!"

[Dan Donovan]

"You know, you coulda called. On the phone?" Dan grumbled, shaking his head at Mr. Cellophane. "A lot less messy. Not that I mind Phil being dead and all, but my upholstery's all shot to hell now."

He looked a little uneasy at Karl's sudden humor. Donovan knew Cellophane enough to know his limits, what buttons not to push, but he wasn't sure Karl did. "Speak for yourself. I ain't gonna grab my ankles for this guy." He nodded to Mr. Cellophane. "I appreciate the warning, as it is. Where do we go from here exactly? And where's Bouncer?" It occurred to him that Kate and Eddy were still unaccounted for, but given what he knew about Cellophane, he already knew exactly where they were and what they were doing.

[Karl Hathaway]

Karl looks at Dan.

"Well, 'course not NOW. I'm talking about before, when all I had was a house filled with regret and guns. Lonely old man, broken inside, lost everything he ever cared about. Can't even compete anymore, on account of it's cheatin' when I shoot now. Not a d**n thing left, the easy way out gets mighty hard to resist."

For a sec, Karl's older again, living that regret. But he shakes it loose.

"But them some stupid mother@!#$er threatens my little girl. 'Course I'm gonna kill his ass dead." Karl smiles. "Then, maybe after, I still eat a bullet, and I find this piece of s**t in hell and kill him all over again."

He looks at this windowpane fella. Soon kill him as look at him, but not even Karl is gung ho enough to draw on a man while surrounded by so much hot iron. Not while there's Katie to think about.

"It's time to do what I do." Karl looks at Dan. "I need me a spotter. You busy?" To Mr. Windowpane, he says, "Where is he?"

[Murometz]

The man(?) simply sat there, his fingers steepled in front of his mouth, and watched Karl laugh with a twinkle in his eye...

"Would that be irony, then, Mr. Old Timer, or something else? Heh, you thought there was a big ol' hullabaloo about *you*?" Now Cellophane laughed his girlish giggle again. "No, nothing to do with you. You just happen to be---what the heck is your "thing" anyway?" Do you shoot arthritic bolts? Pass a lot of deadly gas? I'll tell you this, however, Mr. not from around here," Cellophane's voice was now a dangerous whisper, "Your "girl" is @!#$ed. At least figuratively, not sure about literally, but use your imagination."

Donovan could read Cellophane well---By the way, what the @!#$? Was Cellophane in the midst of a sex-change? He looked different---Mr. Cellophane did indeed have his limits, and was a psycho's psycho when pushed.

"Go from here? s**t, I don't know. You two can leave, if I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have sent Phil the cheap thrill."

Where is he?

"He's usually mobile, but you're in luck..." Cellophane leaned in dramatically "...I heard that two hours ago, he took over a @!#$ing prison. How do you like them apples? Carcosa Super-Max, Long Island. Get this, media has no @!#$ing clue yet. Those whose job it is to deal with this type of s**t haven't mobilized yet. No one wants to, everyone afraid of Dr. Insano. Has a s**t-load of innocent people in tow too, including your *girl*. So from what I'm hearing carpet-bombing the place is not yet an option."

And where's Bouncer?

"I told you, downstairs somewhere. I'm not his momma. You want him to help you out, you talk to him. He's currently fighting in the arenas...downstairs. I mentioned to him that Insano is gunning for "supes", he mumbled 'bring it on', or something."

Maybe Cellophane didn't know about Eddy and Kate yet.

"Now, get the @!#$ out. Your time's up."

[Murometz]

Outside

By the time Kate recovered, The Bouncer was up on one knee. Still clutching his throat, still somewhat helpless, but recovering?! Eddy got more than the glimpse he wanted, as he looked at Kate's long legs and nearly hiked up mini-skirt.

The Bouncer's entire body was coated red with quickly cooling blood. He coughed, and another stream of blood, phlegm, and bile, poured out of his mouth and throat. He still couldn't speak.

Eddy noticed a car screech to a stop outside the alley. Sedan. Tinted windows. It idled, with a view of events.

[Kate Hammerhill]

Kate sighed as the world resumed a speed that approximated normal, eye her target with new found respect; normally people didn't get up after a Halo induced tracheotomy, but here he was on one, knee and possibly even winning his battle against the reapers siren call.

She gave Eddy a small sigh,  noticing his eyes straining to catch a glimpse up her skirt, she found it convenient how going commando could distract most guys at the d**nedest of times, a distraction that often proved fatal to targets, not so convenient when it distracted the person who was supposed to be watching your back however...

She began calculating the best way to finish cancelling the target quietly so her and Eddy could move into support Bloodhound and One Shot, turning to eye the car with annoyance as it pulled up, another unknown equation to an already complicated mathematical problem.

"Do you want to take the new arrivals or finish off the door stop?" Aside from a keen knowledge of anatomy and the ability to go unnoticed she didn't have a clue what Eddy's evolutionary specialty was, but she hoped it was something that could cancel a lot of targets in a hurry, because her target and a car load of potential contracts was more then she could readily handle, especially in her current condition.

[Eddy Stringer]

"You deal with the car," said Eddy as he pulled out the sig and fired at The Bouncer.

He was no marksman. He was counting on it.

Pum! Pum! Pum!

Thou shall not kill...

[Murometz]

Shoulder. Shoulder. Head.

Eddy's last shot blew off The Bouncer's ear, along with a chunk of skull and brain. The big man went down again. Wasn't moving this time.

Was he dead?

[Kate Hammerhill]

Kate blinked as Eddy produced a handgun and began to empty the magazine into the target, not the computational outcome to this particular problem she anticipated, but it had a pleasing finality to it, she had to admit.

She turned instead to focus on the vehicle in front of her, tinted windows, likely armored, unknown number of occupants that were now witness to the cancellation of her target, making them loose ends and potentially marked for cancellation themselves, if they stuck around anyway.

She slipped a hand under her jacket and produced a firearm of her own, a Sig 226 chambered for .40 caliber, the world slipped into slow motion once more as she sighted in on the vehicle, waiting for her opening, the parting of a window or cracking of a door that would present the opportunity for a hollow point cancellation.

[Murometz]

No window or door opened up. The car sat there another few long seconds then slowly began pulling out. Kate could take a shot at the sedan, if she wanted.

Eddy looked at The Bouncer again, just to make sure he still wasn't moving. He wasn't at the moment.

But it wouldn't be long before that back door opened up again and someone would come checking on The Bouncer's extraordinarily long piss break.

A further look around. No one.

Meanwhile Karl and Dan exited the building out front.

On the street. 3AM.

Yellow cabs  flew up and down the avenue, transporting drunken revelers.

[Kate Hammerhill]

Kate covered the sedans departure with her pistol, seeing no reason to waste ammunition and provoke a needless conflict. Her canceled target, he was part of the slime holding some little girl prisoner, not worth any hesitation or mercy on that note alone.

She holstered her handgun as the Sedan was swallowed by shadow and streetlights, pausing long enough to take note of its license plate, it could be worth running down later through some contacts. Turning back she gave Eddy an approving nod, "Nice cancellation,"cautiously kneeling down to retrieve her blade, wiping the blood and bile on the targets clothes almost as an after thought.

"Do you know if your boyfriend and One Shot had suppressed weapons?" She knew darned well Blood Hound didn't have a boyfriend, and if he did it certainly wouldn't be Eddy, but the out of left field joke/comment would make him squirm, and hopefully take his mind off the cancelled target in front of him before he blew chunks or passed out at least.

"Either the place has top class sound proofing or they're canceling targets discreetly, Hound's got my contact number too so he'll send us a text if he needs us to do anything specific." She continued, giving Eddy a reassuring nod, casually going through the targets pockets for anything of relevance. Access cards, keys, cash, whatever might come in handy for the immediate future.

A gust of icy wind reminded her tights and a longer skirt might have been a better choice of attire, but she hadn't exactly had time to go home and kit up for this escapade, not that it mattered now anyway, another few seconds and they'd be out of the cold and into whatever hot mess Blood Hound and One Shot were cooking up.

[Karl Hathaway]

NOW

Karl leaves, knowing he’ll be back. This guy’s involved. Karl will find out how. Why don’t matter. Just how. But he ain’t the mission today. Karl glances toward another door and says, “Hang on a sec. Need to hit the head.” He heads for the restroom without waiting for a reply, duffell still in tow.

When Karl emerges a few minutes later, the thrift store flasher coat and denim are gone. In their place, fatigues and body armor, gray urban camouflage, tactical vest slung with his Kabar - sharp enough to shave a snake - Colt at his hip, tied down. Slung on his shoulder is the unmistakable form of a canvas rifle case, and a smaller pack with the last of his gear. The clothes he was wearing he donated to whatever perverts should make his way into that restroom. He won't need them again. His helmet rests in the crook of one arm.

Most of Karl’s grey is gone. The lines have disappeared from his face, leaving only a few around his eyes. Maybe it’s the uniform, but Karl stands straight, tall, looking fitter than he has in years. Even when he was helping the FBI he didn’t look this good. Never had this much motivation, maybe, past maybe gettin' to hunt again. Tonight he's hunting with purpose, and it shows.

There’s no insignia, no rank, no ribbons, no name. It’s not a uniform. ‘cept it is.

“Let’s go.”


Outside, Karl pauses to look around. Seeing no sign of the other two, he cautiously moves around back, looking for them. He pauses at the sight of the walking warning for steroid abuse nursing wounds and pair who dropped him.

"Katie ain't in there, never was, accordin' to some guy named... Windowpane or somethin'. Says the call was routed through the club, but she's out with some feller calls himself Dr. Insano." Karl shakes his head. This ain't the godd**n comics.

"Man says he's taken over a prison. Location's near the hit Bloodhound got, so I'm headin' out. I could use a spotter."

[Dan Donovan]

Dan smelled blood even as he opened the club's doors to leave. Blood meant trouble.

He rounded the corner and saw a pile of bloodied steroids lying in front of Kate and Eddy. "G*dd*mnit!" he swore, kicking a piece of trash angrily. "Did you kill him?! Sh*t!" He knelt down and checked for a pulse. "Did you even talk to the f*cker? He's supposed to be our muscle. Ain't gonna want to help us now, is he?" Donovan wiped blood off of his fingers on Bouncer's shirt, then off the man's neck. He fumbled around for the carotid, hoping and not hoping to find his heart still beating.

[Eddy Stringer]

"Thanks," Eddy trailed off.  "I didn't see a silencer on the Bloodhounds gun. No idea about the other.  He could have put one on."

Eddy ignored the barb.  He had hoped things might be different, but no. Another one of those.

He had not meant to kill the bastard, but bullets really didn't have a 'stun' setting. 

He stood there silently, his thoughts his own, until he was brought back by Dan's cursing.

"I think .. so.  Not sure, he's really, really tough."

Could he not be dead?

"Your brain is never the same once air touches it. Lets part of your soul out."

[Murometz]

Ever so slight. Almost non-existent, but still there...a weak pulse. Unreal!

Regardless, Bouncer wasn't jumping up and lending "muscle" to anyone for a long while, if ever. And if Eddy was right, he'd rise soulless anyway.

Pockets: A small vial of yellowish powder (marked "King in Yellow"), parking garage ticket (Escalade), cash--4 c-notes, piece of paper with an address on it (somewhere in Queens), another scrap of paper, this one saying, "Wingman"-347-555-3714.

3:15 AM.

City nightlife winding down. They were way uptown at this point, not far from the bridge that would take them into the Southern Bronx, Quicksilver's territory. Or a quick cab ride back downtown to Dan's loft. Or, off to Long Island...

Karl stood there, waiting on a spotter. He didn't look sleepy.