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“So will you proceed unarmed, Officer Rico?”
Dip had started calling me “officer.” I decided to ignore it. “What do you think?”
“You seem to dislike being without guns. I also think that, if you are found to have weapons, you’ll probably kill the witnesses. That won’t be very police officer like of you.”
I was about to give Dip an odd glance, but then I remembered he was just a voice in my ear. I was taking a few armaments with me – guns, explosives – and, yes, I would kill the Detective and any other officers around if my weapons were discovered. But, they would only be discovered if I had to use them, which meant I had been placed in a dangerous position where I had no option but to shoot back at some criminals. So, if I had to kill the Detective on that matter, it would be for her own incompetence.
“Officer Rico, this seems like a lot of effort to get a little information.”
“I just think I’m going to be needing that information, Dip. I have the feeling Gredler is involved in something big, and things just aren’t adding up.”
“Maybe you should have me do the adding; I’m very good with math.”
That was enough. “Dip, are you being stupid, or are you trying to make jokes?”
“The latter. I took what you meant metaphorically and treated it literally. I understand with some jokes…”
“Why are you trying to be funny, Dip?”
“You have been very hard to get input from, thus, using a random number generator, I’ve decided to try different things to see if they suit you better. It does seem like you could use more humor, Rico.”
I just grunted in response as I picked out a coat. It had been warm out, so I needed one I could conceal everything with while not making myself too hot. “Dip, how is the extraction plan going?”
“I have a new plan which I rate to have approximately a 23.847% chance of success. Do you like the number? I made it more computer like instead of a nice round number.”
“I don’t care how many decimal spaces you give me, Dip; I need a much better plan.”
“As for your own plan, what happens if you are unable to gain Detective Thompson’s trust to get the information from her?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you will drag her into a dark alley, beat the information out of her, and then kill her – probably with a blaster so you won’t get a mess on yourself.”
That was almost eerie. Dip really did seem to be making an effort to understand me. “You’re beginning to think like a hitman, Dip.”
“That makes an interesting irony: for the Detective to live, she has to be naive enough to trust a psychopath.”
I put on a nice light jacket. “Live longer, at least.”
“I think you should revisit my conclusion that you are evil, Rico.”
“I told you I don’t have time for that; too much work to do to indulge your learning algorithms.”
“Do you really think you’ll be able to find the terrorists, Officer Rico?”
“A killer in search of killers – it just might work.” I had a keen eye – that’s how I survive – and it seemed I should be able to do this… or at least impress the Detective enough in the attempt. Then maybe she could help me find out why this hit seemed so odd. I still couldn’t quite place my finger on exactly what disturbed me so much, but I think I might actually be… scared.
Is that possible?
“Rico! Knock. Knock.”
“Shut up, Dip.”
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All Dip could turn up about Senator Gredler was rumors of all the sleazy things you’d expect a politician to be involved in (the wise man is distrustful of anyone who seeks power). The guy was a real power player – planets moved at his beckoning – but that still made him a relative small fry compared to intergalactic criminal syndicates (our power isn’t limited by who we have treaties with; we go wherever our weaponry allows us). Still the Galactic Alliance was the largest political movement I’ve seen, and it could be a threat to organized crime were it to grow – something I would think would be encouraged by us publicly killing one of their highest ranking politicians.
A piece was missing. It was Diane’s job to fill it in. In my hotel room, I rearmed (smaller, even more concealable pieces) and dressed casual for our “date.” It was not going to be my goal to woo the Detective – for all I know, she could be a dyke (call me sexist for suspecting a woman who has a 78% percent chance of being attractive who isn’t married at her age, but I just say I’m being observational; my guess is she’s too tied up with her job for much of a personal life, though). I just wanted to get her to trust me as a fellow cop so I can get more information out of her. That was a new challenge for this psychopath, but I’m all for broadening my horizon.
Our meeting place was at a pizzeria. She was seated at a table wearing the same clothes she had on while on duty; apparently she was making this just a meeting between two fellow officers of the law – except, I knew she was suspicious of me. Plus, if she assumed I had any intelligence, she knew I knew she was suspicious of me. This worked well for me because it meant I wasn’t the only one who was going to be trying to act normal.
She smiled when she spotted me – somewhat perfunctorily – and asked, “How’s the leg?”
I took a seat across from her. “Little stiff, but it seems to be in working order. Still haven’t found anyone to fix the hole in my pants, though.”
We laughed at my joke. I scanned her face to better see her true feelings, and noticed she was doing the same to me. This could be awkward.
“You seem to be in good spirits after all that’s happened today,” she stated, trying to sound complementary.
“I wish I can say that was the worse I’ve been through.”
Her response was stopped by the waiter – some gray alien type I’d never seen before. He seemed to be familiar with the Detective and curious about her company. She told him I’m a police officer from another planet and left it there. “So what do you want on the pizza?” she asked me.
“Whatever you recommend.” I couldn’t care less. I usually eat the blandest things that give me the needed nutrients; eating is a functional thing for me. On occasion, I spoil myself just to keep my stomach used to rich foods and preservatives for situations such as this.
She ordered a “supreme” and a Coke to drink while I asked for bottled water for myself. I was somewhat wary of a restaurant meant to make human cuisine but run by aliens; what’s poison for some is yummy for others. Still, I decide I could trust the Detective on her choice in pizza joints.
“Sorry that a pizza is about all you’re getting for your heroism,” she told me with a slight smile, “It really is best to keep things quiet about you; we are certain more terrorists are lurking around the city.”
“And are you out to find them right now?”
“Now I’m eating dinner. Then I’ll be heading to the outskirts where our best leads say the terrorists are hiding. It looks like some more of these smaller attacks are to come and then something big planned for the main day of the conference.”
“And then you have an assassin after that Senator on top of all that. Seems like your plate is full.”
“I’m not on that case,” she told me, and I could detect the disappointment. Interesting.
“Why do you think an assassin is after that man?”
“I can’t really go into those details, Rico.”
I decided to look a little offended. If there was any information I needed, it was that. If this hit by the syndicate had been ratted to the police, that meant big trouble. “Well, any idea why someone would want that politician dead.” I cracked a smile. “Is he too honest?”
The Detective laughed heartily at that one. “Definitely a ‘No’ to that one.”
“So he’s extra-crooked?”
“I don’t know.” But she suspects something. I could tell it. “So, things sound pretty rough on Rikar. Are they going to get along without you?”
“There are a lot of people I trust on the police force, and I just needed a break from all the violence.” I then chuckled, because that was ironic. “Was hoping to find some more civilized means of police work to bring back there. We don’t need detectives as much most of the time because sentients will not even try to hide their crimes. Whether we apprehend the perp is a matter of whether we feel we have enough people and arms to do it.”
“Any chance of your planet joining the Galactic Alliance?”
“We’d need to organize ourselves more, first. How does that work out for you?”
She shrugged. “It needs work. It at least allows us to pursue criminals to other Alliance planets.”
I laughed. “How often are fugitives dumb enough to flee to an Alliance planet?”
She didn’t laugh. “Not often enough. At least with this current case I’m looking for people I’m pretty sure to be on planet.”
I decided to look more serious. “Such a stupid thing. These terrorist murdering people because they think some giant robot is a god. Religion can lead people to the dumbest behavior.”
Oops. Looks like I offended her, though she tried to hide it. “Are you religious, Rico?”
“No, not really, Detective.”
“What keeps you going then?”
Great. Now we’re down conversation paths I hadn’t planned for. “What?”
“Sounds like it can be rough on Rikar. What motivates you to keep at it?”
It was a somewhat philosophical question, so I let my self pause to think which I thought would not appear odd. “I guess… because people need me. Never really thought about that too much.” Seemed like a good answer.
The Detective considered my response for a moment. She then chuckled nervously. “Sorry; I guess I’m asking a lot of questions; hard habit to break.”
I smiled; I’m good with convincing smiles – I can even get the eyes right. “I’m asking questions, too. I’m really curious in all this. You have terrorists plus an assassination plot, and I’d love to see how an organized police department handles that. Is there any chance I could tag along with you as you try to find these terrorists?”
“I don’t know…”
“I might be of some help. I got a good look at the terrorists and their demeanor.”
“Demeanor?”
“Yeah, there was a way to them… a way to all sorts of killers. The terrorists all had a certain look to them… in their eyes. It’ll be visible in terrorists planning to attack later… even if they try to hide it.”
The Detective laughed. “Really?” She didn’t think I was serious, and I really was.
“Hey, I don’t know the area, but I know criminals. I think I can help. If I get in the way, tell me; I won’t be offended.” I smiled. “Anyway, I should be able to avenge my ruined pants.” I decided that was too cheeky since people died and thus quickly became more serious. “And it’s hard to see people gunned down like that and not try and help.”
She was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay, Rico. I’m afraid you’ll still have to be unarmed.”
“Then don’t make me enter anywhere first,” I laughed.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. If the terrorist have marked you, you’ll be safer among us anyway.”
I smiled, and then came the pizza and drinks. If I could really help her, then she’d have to trust me and I could get the info I needed – maybe get in close with Senator Gredler’s defense even. And, ironically, I might even actually for once save more people on a planet than I kill.
Considering the defenses I’d have to fight through to get Gredler and get out, not likely though.
“You like the pizza?” the Detective asked as she finished chewing a bite.
“Yes.” I truly did.
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My leg was stiff, and, to add to it, the air whistling through the entrance and exit bullet holes on my pants’ leg was a bit annoying. Still, I stumbled quickly through the streets to get back to my hotel room to get some unperforated pants among other things. There wasn’t time to waste.
I casually looked around to make sure I wasn’t being followed – maybe a little paranoid but I’d just call it cautious. I then clicked on my communicator. “Dip, I need you to find any juicy rumors about Senator Gredler that are circulating.”
“Interesting. You usually don’t care much about who you are contracted to kill.”
“Well, this one was different to begin with and getting… more different.”
“I have information about Diane Thompson if you want it.”
“Yeah. Read off to me the main points.”
“Please clarify.”
“Where is she from, how old is she, long as she been in the police force, any cases she has worked on that stick out…”
“Stick out how?”
“Arrested someone of a high profile, any shoot outs. Dip, can’t you figure out what data sticks out?” The sentients I passed by didn’t pay me any attention; it’s common for people to walk around talking to no one. It’s really hard to act insane enough for people to notice in a modern city.
“She is from Nar Valdum city. She is thirty-four years old. She has been a part of the police for more than twelve years, and she has been involved in four shootouts I have found out about. Killed a sentient in one, killed one sentient and wounded a second in another. Inflicted no injuries in the others, but received a bullet to the shoulder in one while her partner was shot multiple times and killed.”
Hadn’t seen her with a partner. “How long ago was that?”
“About two years. The assailants were caught and are currently serving life sentences in prison.”
Wow. Dip answered my next question before I could ask it. Maybe he was getting smarter. “Send me all her case data so I can look over it.”
“There is something else that seems to stand out though it does not have to do with her police work, Rico.”
“What?”
“When she was thirteen, her parents were murdered in front of her.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Now that’s juicy. Tell me more.”
“Suspects were never caught. Suspicion they were killed on the orders of the Randatti criminal syndicate. They are the rival of your employers, correct?”
I ignored the question; this was just too good. “Send me all the information on that.” I figured I’d be spending all my time in my hotel room reading until my date with the emotionally scarred detective with a long time chip on her shoulder. “Good find, Dip. Having one’s parent killed in front of you tends to be a defining moment.”
“Were your parents killed in front of you, Rico?”
“One of them.” Whoops.
“Did you kill that parent?”
I just laughed. “I’m starting to like you, Dip.”
“I am glad, Rico. I have some new conclusions to ask you about.”
“Don’t have time for it, Dip. Too much going on with this job. Come to think of it, I have another task for you. Keep watch for mentions of an assassination attempt on Senator Gredler… outside of a terrorist attack, that is. You’ll probably have to hack into some official channels for it.”
“Are you suspected, Rico?”
“They seem to know something is coming.”
“I will need to factor that into the probability of escape plans being successful.”
“Yes you will.” Didn’t look like this was going to be a run in, shoot everybody, and run away type of job… not if I cared to live.
Which I do.
“Rico, why the interest in the detective? Based on data of celebrities known to be attractive, I have given Diane Thompson a 78% chance of being considered attractive.”
“Thanks, but I think I can determine that myself.” Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw someone watching me. I really did not like this situation I had been put in. Not having any weapons really made it worse, but I was almost to my hotel. “I’m meeting her for dinner, Dip.”
“Since they may be looking for an assassin, is it safe to have close contact with a police officer?”
“Not for her.”
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“Not watching the news?” Detective Thompson was looking towards the TV where two lizard-like delpings were getting it on.
I turned the TV off; it would take my full concentration to pull off this act. “No. Too much speculation right after these things happens. I’d rather wait a while then find the facts.”
“So you watch nature shows instead?” she smiled, either interested or feigning interest. She was pretty – that was for sure – though her clothing was pretty functional and only vaguely feminine. Only thing outwardly threatening about her was her blue eyes – I could tell they were hard at work assessing me. And I would guess she’s killed in the line of duty – or at least been in numerous gunfights.
Yes, I can sorta tell that from someone’s eyes. Hey, I’m an expert on killing.
I figured I might as well use the truth when I could to keep things less complicated. “Yeah, I love learning about new animals. So many different animals on so many different planets, yet each one has something unique to it.” That seemed like some good banter, but something tragic happened and I needed to act concerned. “So… uh… how bad was it?”
“Eleven dead.” I could see a little fire in her eyes. “About three times that many injured.”
“At least they were using bullet weapons,” I observed, “Could have been a lot worse.”
She came a little closer, and I could now smell her perfume. Made me wonder if she put thought into what kinds and how much perfume you could wear and still be intimidating when interrogating a suspect. “Like with your firearm?” she asked. Okay, she was suspicious of me. Nothing to panic about.
“Don’t think I’d be alive today if I didn’t have that stopping power.” That was the truth. “Never seen anyone take a bolt anywhere to the body and not drop.” Expensive gun, if I were just a cop. “Any chance I’ll be getting it back?” I only own eight others. I wondered what gun she preferred. It must have been small, because I couldn’t see any bulge in her coat. It was obviously under her right arm from the way she folded her arms. That made her left handed.
Freak.
“We’ll see. It was illegal for you have it here, Rico. That’s your name, right?”
“Yeah, just Rico. Officer Rico of Rikar, to be precise.” Used my affable smile, but a more subdued version. “Sorry about that, but I never pay attention to gun laws when going to new planets. Figure if I have to draw and reveal I’m armed, it’s better to be arrested than dead.” Common line I’ve heard from pro-gun sentients.
“Can’t blame you – certainly under these circumstances. I can probably get your gun back when you’re leaving the city. How much longer are you going to be in the hospital?”
“Should just be an hour or two.”
“You set up somewhere?”
“Yeah.” Please don’t ask me where.
“Where you staying?”
“The Lux.” I didn’t know I was going to pretend to be a cop when I got my hotel.
“That’s a nice place,” she chuckled, “You’re really living it up.”
I smiled wryly. “I treat myself every now and then. You invest your money wisely, you can save up a bit on a police officer’s salary… even without being crooked.” I laughed at my lame joke, and she did too. Good.
“I don’t think you’ll find this conference too worthwhile, though. These always end with a lot of bickering between all the different species.”
“What would you want to happen, Detective?”
“Just some more treaties between planets,” she said, looking like she felt quite strongly on the issue. “Someone commits a crime here and get off planet, that’s it! We can’t follow him. If someone wants justice, he has to go to a bounty hunter – and they certainly aren’t the most honest type.”
I shook my head. “Yeah, I dealt with more than a few of those types.” I sorta am one – more of a bounty killer than a bounty hunter, though.
“Anyway, Officer Rico, sorry about your experience here on Nar Valdum so far; certainly doesn’t make for a great vacation. I want to thank you again for what you did, though.”
“Someone had to. You expect more attacks like that?”
“We weren’t, but now we are. We initially thought the terrorists were plotting for the main event when Senator Gredler arrives, but it seems they’re happy to do some killing beforehand to scare people away.”
“Still expect an attack at the main event, though?”
She smiled. “They’d have to be pretty dumb to try. Security is so tight, I don’t see how they could do anything. Everything has been increased to accommodate Senator Gredler, especially after we got some chatter about a possible assassination attempt.”
It took some force of will to not look startled, and I could tell the Detective was looking for my reaction. I hope she was just this naturally suspicious of everyone. “Why assassinate that guy?”
She shrugged her shoulders. She was hiding something, though. Seemed like I should be finding out what.
“So what are your plans for the rest of the day?” she asked. More suspicion.
“Get something to eat. My face isn’t all over the news, right?”
“A few people involved talked to reporters about what happened, but no one has identified you. By the way, if you want some good food, I know just the place. I get off in a couple hours, and it will be my treat. Least I can do for the hero.”
I smiled, trying to not reveal how much was going on in my head right now. “Sounds good.”
So my hit was starting to look like a suicide mission, and the best option I seemed to have was getting close to a Detective who was apparently suspecting me of being a hitman. This was going to be an interesting “vacation.”
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Patching my leg was a simple enough procedure. They had it held still in a regenerator, and I just had to wait an hour or so. After that, I’d be back to my full-self and ready for a killing (after getting back to my hotel room to rearm). I had a TV in the hospital room, so I flipped around the channels.
“The delping waits in the river, its gray coloration blending itself with the rocks. When prey comes into view, it strikes by kicking forward with its strong rear legs and expelling all the air in its lungs out of two reverse facing nostrils on the sides of its heads. Using this jet propulsion, with blinding speed it snatches the…”
“Rico, how are you doing?”
It was Dip talking into the hidden communicator in my ear.
“Why do you ask?”
“I saw in the news that there was violence near where you should be. Then I saw that further violence ended the initial violence. I conjectured you were involved with one of those violences based on my knowledge base about your behavior.”
“Really? Which one would you think was me?”
“Usually violence you do is reflected negatively in the press, but the disliked violence involves multiple sentients, and you have always worked alone since I’ve known you. On the other hand, the second act of violence seems to be thought of favorably, and I’ve never known what you do to be thought of favorably by the general public, Rico.”
“I’ve killed a few people the general public were happy to be gone.”
“Still, it has always been looked at as criminal. This act of violence is referred to as ‘heroic.'”
“I killed five murderers – preventing the death of others – and took a bullet through my leg in the process. Would you call that ‘heroic,’ Dip?”
That took him a second.
“I would assume you had ulterior motives, Rico.”
That made me laugh. “Dip, I have another job for you. I want you to connect to any databases you can on this planet and find information on a Nar Valdum City’s Detective named Diane Thompson.”
“Certainly, Rico. I have progress on the previous job you assigned. I have a plan to extract you from Nar Valdum’s capital which I rate as having a 20% chance of success.”
“That a nice round number.”
“There are many unknowns I had to assign some value to, so I went with inexact figures.”
“Whatever. I need a better number that 20%.”
Dip was silent again. “When calculating the chance of success, I could give a greater weight to the ship’s maneuverability which would…”
“I don’t mean fudge the numbers, Dip; I mean come up with a better plan.”
“I will try, Rico. By the way, you never answered my initial question: How are you doing?”
I never answers his questions, something I’m sure Dip was wise to. “How do you think I’m doing?”
“You seem fine.”
“Get to work. Dip.”
I looked back to the TV. The mating habits of the delping was being discussed now. I don’t usually find that part as informative, but I didn’t have a chance to watch it either as I now had a visitor.
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I don’t get attached to my weapons like some people, but I hate wasting them. Still, it seemed prudent to hit the disintegration sequence on the other two I carried. When the authorities came, there was just me with my wounded leg and my one gun lying next to me.
“How are you doing?” asked one cop.
“Stopped the bleeding.” I looked to my gun. “I assume you want to take that.”
“Yeah,” answered one as he picked up the gun, “Medical will be with you soon; there are a number of others in greater need. Seems pretty clear cut what happened here, but you’ll have to answer some questions… especially why you had the gun. That was a great thing you did, though… and some great shooting.”
I cradled my wounded leg acting like it hurt more than it did. “Got lucky.” Looked to some of the “innocent” people being put in body bags. “Others not so lucky.” Nice addition, I have to say so myself.
“Any chance you could answer questions now?” asked a woman. Standing above me was a blond, thirty-something, plain-clothes detective. No ring.
Hello, human female.
Well, she wasn’t some knockout looks-wise, but the way she held herself – the authority to it – very strong and I guess a turn on to me. She smiled at me – I was the hero – but the suspicion was obvious in her eyes. I can assess people quick, and this was a smart woman – hopefully not smart enough to get herself killed by me.
“I’m Detective Thompson. Our main concern is these terrorists and possible further attacks, so I’d like to get the issue of your involvement out of the way as quickly as possible.”
“Can you make sure my name and picture don’t get in the news? I don’t want to sound wussy, but I’d rather not have all the CyberIslamists freaks targeting me while I’m on vacation.”
“We’re not letting anyone know you’re the one you ended the attack,” Detective Thompson assured me. “So why did you have the gun?”
“I’m a police officer from a planet called Rikar.” The planet was in a galaxy red-shifting away near the speed of light; good luck contacting it. “I carry out of habit, and, to be honest, I didn’t really look into the gun laws here.”
“How are things on Rikar?”
“Pretty violent.” True, if I was thinking of the right planet. “Not my first gun fight or bullet wound.” Certainly true. “Decided to take a break from it all and see the universe. Was hoping I could find some things to help us back on Rikar. Ended up here for the conference.”
“Not to burst your bubble, but I don’t think you’ll find much useful from that.” She had a wry smile.
“Maybe not.” I think I liked her. Now what would someone be concerned about now? “So, am I in trouble?”
“You’re a hero – I don’t think the prosecutors are going to want to pursue the minor infraction of illegal possession of small arms. I need to do my job, though.”
“I understand.” Doing my job is what I’m all about.
A medical guy came up to me – a green one. I’m not one of those who only trust human doctors, though. “We can look at that leg now. We’ll get you to the hospital and should be able to patch you up quick.”
“Sorry your vacation got ruined,” Detective Thompson told me, patting me on the shoulder, “Lucky for everyone you were here, though. From the sounds of it, you saved a lot of lives.”
I was placed on a gurney. “Small compensation when you see people gunned down like that.” I’m good at this.
“I’ll check on you at the hospital.”
I used my affable smile. “Good; I would enjoy the company.” No I wouldn’t, but a plan was forming. “What’s your name again?”
She smiled. Didn’t look forced at all. “Detective Diane Thompson.”
I smiled back – also not forced. Hope it didn’t look too sinister, though.
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I was being shot at.
Actually, everyone was being shot at by five sentients screaming what my translator was interpreting as, “Mechanized Allah is great!” People were falling dead or wounded all around me from the rapid, slug-firing guns the attackers were using with a crazed zeal.
My luck: A terrorist attack. I had heard of these guys. They were a number of humans and aliens that worshiped a gigantic city destroying robot – Mecha-Allah – that they believed to be their god taken corporal form. Since so many people were out to destroy Mecha-Allah based on him commanding his supporters to kill unbelievers, they hid him. This made the CyberIslamists even more crazed because they were supposed to pray five times a day towards Mecha-Allah but didn’t know where he was. This meant lots of praying in random directions.
Yeah, it’s really stupid, but you don’t know how much I sometimes wish I was able to have religious faith.
The scene at the cafe was pure random mayhem and it annoyed me to no end. I mean, I have little regard for “innocents” when converging on a target, but to go out of one’s way to kill them seemed so silly. As soon as I grasped the situation, I was about to pull out two guns and take the terrorists down in a seconds time.
But that puts all my cards on the table. No question I’m a great killer then, and then many questions follow from the authorities.
So what now? Inaction could get me shot and almost had already, so I quickly pretend I’m someone else. Decided I’m a police officer on vacation who brought one gun with him out of habit. Killing five would be a feat, but I could make it look lucky – be skilled but not too skilled.
I drew a gun with my right hand and fired twice at one, the first missing on purpose and second burning the terrorist, the lizard like creature letting out a dying shriek to his robotic master.
Three more shots as I went for cover (cop would only use inanimate objects and not other people as cover, so I had to watch myself). Two of those three struck a human terrorist, and the remaining three attackers now focused on me (I was really the only one in the crowd with a gun? That’s sad when a criminal is the first defense). I partially hid behind a lamppost and fired back.
These guys weren’t aiming. They were just doing automatic fire in my direction and were quite pathetic about it. I fired two more close but missing shots before killing a third. I then noticed some bullets hitting near my feet and decided to commit to the part I was playing by sticking out my leg.
After the bullet ripped through my calf muscle, I let myself fall to the ground. As I fell, I ended the fight with two shots that got two kills. One hand on my leg and the other on my gun, I looked around the fire of the former cafe and the panic around it to see there were no more “bad guys” left to shoot. I set down my gun and began bandaging my leg with a cloth napkin.
“You saved us!” gasped a middle-aged woman clutch a child.
False modesty – that seemed to be the norm for this sort of thing. “In the end, I was just saving my self.” (completely true). Would I get in the news for this? That would not be helpful.
“Can I help you with…”
“I’m fine,” I interrupted the woman as I tightened the bandage, “Keep watch on your son.” Others were gathered around me. “Look for the wounded to help the authorities when they get here,” I commanded calmly, “I can handle myself.” This role-playing was kinda fun… other than how much the bullet hurt.
I thought it was a good acting all in all and the wounded leg sealed the deal, but I knew the real police would be there any moment to test how great my “vacationing cop” act really was.
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I had to land my ship 17,000 miles away from the capital city. For an emergency escape plan, I guess I could just tunnel straight through the planet back to my ship (look at me; I made a joke). From what Dip was able to read out of the air, he wouldn’t be able to take the ship anywhere near the sentient species diversity conference without most certainly being shot down. I told him to work on a plan to extract me from the capital anyway. If I didn’t know he was only a bundle of computer algorithms, I would swear Dip was gleeful at being entrusted with something useful to do.
Before getting on the transit to Nar Valdum’s capital, there was some sort of scanning of each passenger and baggage. They seemed to be more interested in stopping nuclear bombs, because I had no trouble getting through with my regular armaments (firearms come in too many varieties to be reliably scanned for anyway).
Small talk on the transit was about hope that this conference would lead to an enhanced galactic government to unite all species. I just repeated the sentiments back at them, and, before I could tire too much of the inanity, the destination was reached.
Nar Valdum’s capital (Nar Valdum City is the name, I think) is like plenty of other cities I’ve seen on more developed planets. You pass through slums where you have all the species diversity you want and plenty of violent crime and then reach the nice and sparkly downtown with its shiny skyscrapers and only a few different species in sight. The preferred race here seemed to be human (good and bad for me; I stick out less but other humans are more likely to notice that I’m… well… odd) with a large mix of Corridians like Senator Bull’s-eye. There didn’t seem to be as much variation in the Corridians’ color or features as humans. There could be a number of reasons for that. They vary in ways I’m just not observant to, they never evolved many variations, or, most likely, they were more successful than humans in ethnic cleansing back in their dark ages.
Almost every sentient species I’ve bother to look into had racial battles before they advanced to the point of interstellar travel. Then comes the even bigger and not even closed to being solved problem of inter-species animosity. I can’t even keep track of which species generally hate which species (I even forget who I’m supposed to hate).
While most sentient species reached a point where they agreed that ethnic differences within them were superficial, it just goes against all logic to say that all sentient creatures who developed separately on different planets must be equal. It’s always being said that this and that species is more violent prone or this one is more dumb (“How long did your species exist before it was able to travel into space?”), but genetics differ so much between planets, how can anything like that be proven?
Then there are those who feel that all sentients are equal – I guess because it’s nice to think that everyone is equal. I figure this conference will be full of those people. Others have expanded religious views started from their own planet to say that God (or whatever you would call the supposed supreme being) has made all sentients equal.
Now let’s say you just believe all sentients are equal for whatever reason (none based on logic I’ve seen) you choose. What defines some species as being sentient then? It’s not trivial. There are plenty of smart animals that just aren’t smart enough to make developing civilization.
And, quick tip for you: Just because some creature is wearing clothes, that doesn’t make it sentient. Had a long conversation with a type of creature I had never seen before to later find out it had the intelligence of a canine and its owner had just put a sweater on it. Thought I meant someone interesting – so quiet and reserved – only to get laughed at by the natives (lucky for them I’m a psychopath and don’t have any feelings to hurt).
I’ve really digressed, haven’t I? Lacking normal emotions and feelings, I’m often quite detached from the world and tend to over analyze everything – I need to understand a lot for my job. If I don’t die from my work (and, to be honest, odds are I will), I could probably write lots of books on philosophy for retirement.
Anyway, I get to the pretty downtown of Nar Valdum City, buy a paper written in basic human, and sit at an outdoor cafe to order a bottle of water. This hit was starting to make me curious, and, when given orders to kill, I’m not usually the curious sort. This whole diversity conference was a bunch of fluff that the syndicate wouldn’t care about (if you can do work for them, they don’t care what you are. I don’t care either other than if you’re living and I’m paid to kill you; personally, I don’t particular like my own species or any other). Senator Gredler must be of interest outside of this, and what he’s done must be quite special to deserve the Rico treatment. Either he’s too good a man that he has to be struck down harshly to scare others, or he’s such a horrible corrupt man that he must be struck down harshly to scare others. Since he’s a politician, I bet the latter.
But how was he corrupt in so special a way? Was he under the thumb of my criminal syndicate and then turned against it? And was he expecting retaliation.
I decided it was time to try this new thing I had been working on. My brain being split worked mainly just for taking on two targets at once, but I found I could also have the split off part do simple tasks while I focused elsewhere (I can pat my head and rub my tummy with the best of them). What I had tried to break down into a simple task was the appearance of reading a newspaper. A newspaper is more difficult than a book because no one reads it cover to cover, so I have to imitate scanning and then slow down to have more interest in certain parts. I think I had the illusion down pretty well, though, so I sat at the cafe and, while my eyes and hands pretended to read a newspaper, my ears and perception were concentrating on the voices around me and my universal translator trying to see if there was any mention of my target or anything else that might be of interest. Every time I drank from my water, I’d have to break concentration on hearing, though. Still, if anyone was watching me, I appeared to be drinking a water and reading a newspaper while all the while I was really spying on everyone around me. It was a great illusion, but I made one mistake that revealed my lack of normality.
When the cafe exploded and men came out screaming and firing guns into the crowd, I neatly folded my paper and placed it on the table instead of dropping it in surprise – which actually was my first instinct since I was… well… surprised.
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Being so civilized, Nar Valdum had full monitoring of all traffic coming onto the planet. Frankly, I don’t like civilization.
“Dip, I am growing impatient.”
“Would you like to play twenty questions, Rico? You think of something, and then I’ll try to guess it. It will help me learn.”
“No, Dip, I want ground control. Any indication of how much longer we have to wait?”
“They simply say we are in a queue and will get to us soon. So, do you want to play twenty questions?”
Didn’t have much else to do. “Fine. I thought of something.”
“Is it animal, vegetable, mineral, or other?”
“Other.”
“Is it violence?”
“Yes.”
Dip processed silently for a moment. “That game did not help me learn anything.”
“Life is full of disappointment, Dip. Perhaps you learned that.”
“I already derived that knowledge, Rico. I have good news for you, though: ground control is hailing us.”
“This is Nar Valdum ground control,” came a voice over the ship’s speakers, “What is your business here?”
My guess is that a normal person would be a little irate at this point, so I decided to go with that. “Landing– not just floating here all day.”
“We are sorry for the wait, but security measures have been increased because of the sentient species diversity conference. Are you here for that?”
“Yes.” Increased security measures? This job kept looking like more and more fun.
“How long is your planned stay?”
Five days. “Seven days.”
“How many sentients are aboard your vessel?”
“Just me.”
“Species?”
“Human. Haven’t you scanned my ship?”
“Just confirming data. Does your ship have weaponry?”
None you’ll find. “Just basic defensive measures… if you’d call them weapons.”
“Your course for landing and ship identification are being sent to you. Please keep the ship identification in your memory banks for the length of your stay.”
I checked the onscreen map. “That’s a completely different continent than the conference!”
“Security measures,” ground control answered. He sounded weary.
“Good to know I’ll be safe, at least.” I ended the communication. “Dip, take her down.” Hopefully they wouldn’t try searching my ship when I landed, or my initial stay would be short and bloody.
“While we’re landing, I have something for you to try guessing in twenty questions, Rico.”
I manually accessed Dip’s memory buffer and looked for an unusual sequence repeated over and over. “Is it a shoe?”
“You cheated.”
“Hope you learned something from that.”
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I went to my ship and headed out of orbit of planet something-or-other to have a little privacy for the call. Dip would be listening in, but Dip is usually listening in. If you can’t trust a computer algorithm to keep your secrets, then who can you trust?
“Rico, how’s your vacation been?”
This is where a video hookup would be nice, because I have the perfect scowl for him that would communicate exactly how much I do not want to do chit-chat with this idiot. With only voice, my options are sarcasm or some harsh response border-lining on a growl. I decided to go with sarcasm for the added challenge.
“Super-duper, Vito. So how’s your week been? Seen any movies lately? How has the weather been where you are?”
There was a long silence. I probably imitated cheerful interest too well that he didn’t immediately catch the sarcasm. My understanding of sarcasm is you usually overdo the tone, and I didn’t quite do that.
“I… uh… guess I’ll get to business.”
“Good thinking, Vito.”
“I heard back from the higher ups. They said with your last job, it was just plain bad information. They knew the guy was there, weren’t sure who he was, and thought he’d be more obvious to spot. They’re giving you ten percent more on that one for handling it so well despite the trouble.”
“I’d rather have an assurance it won’t happen again. So, do you have a new job for me?”
“Yes I do, but it’s encoded for your eyes only. Guess I won’t be able to help you on this one.”
“And that’s different from the previous ones how?”
Vito laughed for about a second until he realized he was the only one laughing. Not a bright man. I see his future in the crime syndicate as maybe being a fall-guy one day. He’d have to smarten up to be a convincing fall-guy, though.”
“I’ll transmit the info now.” A display in front of me showed I received a file. “Did you get it?”
I answered by hanging up. I don’t particularly hate Vito; I just don’t like people in general and lately I’ve had to deal with him more than anyone else.
“Dip, can you decode that for me.”
“Certainly, Rico.” He was silent for a moment. “Interesting. You’ll be killing a Senator.”
On screen was Senator Rhyle Gredler of the Galactic Alliance – the biggest governing body in the known universe. He was a Corridian as we call them by the human tongue – a species with a reddish-orange bumpy skin and purple about the face (bleeds red, but a darker red than human blood). In five days there was going to be a summit on harmony among sentient species at the capital city of planet Nar Valdum – a long populated and well developed planet. I was to kill Senator Gredler as he gave his speech at the summit.
“This is interesting. Usually, if the syndicate wanted some big time politician dead, they’d be discreet about it. With me, it’s going to be a big show, and, from the looks of it, lots of collateral damage.”
“So the question would be why would they want a ‘big show?'” Dip offered.
“Not my concern. Going to be some repercussions from this, though. Here’s some data for you, Dip: When polled, sentients usually say they do not, in general, like politicians. Yet, they get very angry when you kill them.”
“Do you think this will be more difficult than usual for you, Rico?”
A Galactic Senator would have a large force of well-trained bodyguards standard. After killing the VIP, the news of the crime would spread far and wide leaving me with a lot of planets to avoid. “You concerned about me, Dip?”
“I’m just trying to be helpful. That is my job.”
“Then be helpful by setting a jump to Nar Valdum.” I had never voted before; it would be interesting to finally be a part of the political process.
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So Dip wakes me up when we land on good ‘ole planet something-or-other. I guess each planet is unique in its own way – like each person is unique in his own way – but I’m more concerned with what’s the same. What things can I expect no matter where I go? What behavior can I expect no matter what sort of sentient I deal with? This is how I survive. This is how I live.
As you know, my job is to kill people. There are two main parts to that job – the killing and the not getting killed. The second part is never specified in jobs I’m assigned by the syndicate, but, if I die, I don’t get paid… and I only consider a job done when I get paid.
Most of the time my jobs involve going some place I’ve never been killing people I’ve never met. But, when you’ve been so many places and killed so many people, it all starts to blend together. I can predict most cities’ layouts from all the other places I’ve been. I can predict how people react when I barge into a place shooting from all the other sentients I’ve shot down. Of course, I’m surprised every now and then (surprises make things interesting), but it’s happens less and less often.
The way I see my career as a hitman going is I’ll either end up dead or bored (guess which one I’m betting on).
Now, interacting with people gun to gun is one thing, talking to people in what most would consider a normal everyday interaction is extremely difficult for me. As I freely admit, I’m a psychopath – my mind does not work like that of normal sentients. I have very little human emotions and completely lack what people call morals or values. I’m just incapable of them. To me, killing a man is just another action – like eating, sleeping, walking, etc. I understand the concepts of “guilt” and “horror” that people might have in reaction to violent actions, I just don’t share them. I have no desire to share them. But, I still need to interact with normal sentients without them thinking (correctly) that I’m a psychopath, and that means I have to act like a normal human.
And that’s harder than you might think.
Quick question: What would be the expected reaction from a crowd of people who saw you stomp to death a child’s puppy? I bet you could answer that right away. Me, it took a couple minutes to logically deduct (and, no, I didn’t find out that hard way). What most people just “know” without effort is mentally taxing for me.
So, yes, I avoid people. First thing I did when landing on planet-something-or-other was buy a few supplies (you can usually be curt and emotionless in simple financial transaction without standing out) and then went out to some remote area to practice shooting.
I like shooting… even more since the surgery to my brain. I actually have a part of my brain separated just for targeting things with my left hand. When it works right, I’m actually perceiving and targeting two things at once – it’s really hard to describe other than to say it’s fun (and, yes, before you think I’m a total freak, I do have fun – I just don’t smile when I do). Shooting is most important, anyway, because my whole life revolves around killing people, and I do that primarily through shooting (I’m okay with hand to hand combat and know a little demolitions, but fast and accurate shooting is my bread and butter).
It’s nice to have a purpose in life. Most people – almost all – have no real focus. That basic nature they have and I lack pushes them through life with little logical analysis. I, on the other hand, always know why I’m doing something. I shoot so I can kill better. I exercise and eat right so I’m physically fit enough to run after people I want to shoot. And, because it’s needed, I talk to people, because it helps to understand people to kill them.
Oh, and I like nature shows. Always great predator/prey dynamics going on with non-sentients that I find useful. Not much else on T.V. is very interesting. I could watch the news, but that mainly just gives me insight on news anchors and news editors – not common targets. Also, dramas are nearly useless because that just gives me insight into actors, writers, cinematographers, and directors – also not common targets. I get plenty of new ideas, though, from watching non-sentients either kill or survive seemingly certain death. When you get someone to a life and death situation, there’s not much separating him from an animal.
If I weren’t so disciplined, I’d spend all day watching nature shows (Dip watches them with me; I don’t think he gets too much out of them, though, based on the question he’ll ask which usually deal with specifics about the creatures we watched). Because I am disciplined, on my downtime, I go into town and talk to people as part of my training.
I do not think you can understand how quickly this mentally drains me. I use a few rules to keep from getting into big trouble, the main being I do not use violence outside of finishing a job or defense of my own life. I don’t even kill insects; that might seem to take it to an extreme since everyone else kills them all the time, but I just know I’m going to run into some situation where killing an insect is inappropriate, and I don’t want to waste mental power on figure when that is. While in town on planet something-or-another, some alien tried to pickpocket me. I just gently swatted him away. Maybe breaking his hand would have been appropriate, but too many variables to consider there.
No violence is enough to keep me from looking like a psychopath and instead, at worst, appear as someone who is simply rude. I try to do better, though.
It’s funny (as in odd; not as in makes me laugh); what most people would consider hard sentient interactions are the easiest for me to imitate just by observation. Picking up women, for instance – so easy it’s not even a science (yes, lock up your daughters; this psychopath can seduce about any woman). My lack of an emotional investment helps, and I just follow a few routines I’ve figured out. Mainly not useful interactions, though; never been assigned to kill a bar-hopping human female.
The real challenge is what most refer to as chit-chat. Someone tells me about their life or day, and I am supposed to react and reply in some standard manner I’ve yet to fully decode. I have this slight smile I use (bad when smile not appropriate), and I have this head nodding rate for listening (too slow, not noticeable; too fast, people look at you weird). Have made up life and days I got from listening to other people to use in response (“Well, you should have heard what happened to me today…”). I’m getting very good, but I still laugh when I shouldn’t or don’t laugh when I should. I usually try to recover by blaming the fallibility of the universal translator. If I run into someone speaking basic human, then I just have to play along with that I’m intolerably rude and anger the person into storming away (rude people are quite common and not suspicious).
On top of all this, sentients are extremely boring as a rule. And, as I said, they all seem alike; I’d swear I keep running into the same people no matter what planet I go to. So it’s all this mentally taxing work for so little gain. Still, I learn a little bit each time I attempt talkee-talk, and you never know when that little bit will keep you alive or help keep someone else not alive.
After a week of training on planet something-or-another, I finally get a call back from Vito. Talking to him is easy since it’s mostly just about being threatening, and, when threatening, the complicated graces of normal conversations are thrown out the window.
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I decided to dispatch with the usual custom of hellos. “What happened here, Vito?”
“I’m not sure, see…”
“I’m sending the data on who I killed. Will you even be able to tell me if I hit the target?”
“I’ll pass along the data. It will probably take some time before I can confirm anything. The problem is…”
“I don’t like leaving a job and not knowing whether it is done.” I modulated my voice to put the implicit threat behind that statement. Anger is probably the most primal of emotions, and even I experience variations of it such as frustration. Thus, it’s the emotion I can fake the best.
I can be quite scary when I want to be… not that someone has to be scared of me to die when I pull the trigger.
“I’ll try asking about the process here. The problem is I’m new to this, and I don’t have much pull. I ask too many questions, and… well… they don’t like that.” He laughed nervously. “I get too noisy, that might even send you after me.”
That was sorta funny, but I didn’t change expression. “The day I’m assigned to do a hit on a nothing like you is the day I quit.” Not true; I’d figure out some way to make it interesting… like make sure he’s armed and blindfold myself. “Now you pass along to whomever it concerns that this is not acceptable. I need good information to do hits. If someone is so important that they’d send me to make him dead, they should at least know who the hell he is!”
“I’ll tell ’em, Rico. I’ll tell them about the problem and give you back what they say. Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t tell me what I should do, Vito. Now, you have my next job?”
“Not yet. I’ll have more coming down the pipe soon. With you, it’s no on women or children, right?”
“No, you’re thinking of someone else. You want an elementary school bombed or a salon shot up, I’ll do it. Just get me my money.” I actually don’t care much about the money, but it looks weird if you don’t at least act like you care about the money. “Vito, you’re just a pile of flesh that sends my talkee-talkee to others, and repeats that talkee-talkee to me. Is that really too much for you?”
“I’ll get whatever you want done. It’s just I’m new and…”
“Don’t contact me until you either have information on this job or my next.” I then severed the communication. I’m usually never curious about anything about the syndicate, but I was starting to wonder what happened to my last go-between and how I got stuck with the current idiot. You’d at least think he’d come in knowing my reputation and thus would try to appear a bit smarter in front of me. I mean, I almost had this sensationalist piece about me in the Laverk Times calling me the “Universe’s Deadliest Man.” Funny story: Day before it was published, I killed the entire Laverk Times editorial staff for a completely unrelated matter.
Well, at least it seemed funny to me at the time. Maybe you had to have been there.
“May I run my conclusions by you now, Rico?” Dip asked.
“Sure. What do you got?”
“I conclude that you are evil. Is this correct?”
He’s been concluding that for quite some time. It’s getting hard to come up with new answers to that one. “Ever think that maybe you’re evil, and thus your views on things are skewed by that?”
“I conclude that you are not mentally well. Is this correct?”
“How can you say that? Can you really take all the mental states of all the sentients out there and make a norm? And even if you could, wouldn’t that just be the normal mental state selected by evolution, and thus not necessarily the best?”
“I conclude that you don’t like me. Is this correct?”
“Well, do you like me?”
“Furthermore, my original programming had given me the conclusion that ‘crime doesn’t pay.’ Yet, you are often paid for crime with no discernible retribution. Should I amend that preprogrammed conclusion, Rico?”
“The key word is ‘discernible,’ Dip. Some believe there are cosmic forces that equalize the universe, and thus I will eventually have punishment for these ‘crimes’ as you call them… if those people are correct, I mean.” Me, I don’t “believe” in things. I basically just deal with the input given me– like Dip.
“I shall process your answers.”
“You do that. Now jump this vessel somewhere.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere… somewhere I haven’t been before.”
“I remind you, Rico, I work better when given more exact input.”
“Dip, you should know by now what I and this vessel usually need between jobs, so find a planet with that – one friendly to humans – and go.”
“I think the planet…”
“Don’t tell me. Just go! And wake me when we’re there.”
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I took a rocket from my pocket and tossed it in the air. It immediately took flight and headed for the nearest large heat signature. I heard a siren come nearly overhead followed by an explosion and no more siren. Fiery debris landed around me, which was nice since it was a bit chilly out.
I leaned over to speak into the com on my left shoulder. “Come pick me up, Dip.”
“I’ve noticed a correlation between increased traffic on police channels of communications and your wanting to be picked up. In the future, should I just assume that…”
“Just pick me up, Dip! And make it a quick exit.”
The sirens seemed to have slowed in their pursuit, but I didn’t know how long they’d stay smart. Luckily, my ship was fast and got to me in seconds, temporarily slowing to allow me to grab on to the side before it lifted up again. I didn’t waste any time getting into the cockpit and strapping in.
“Where are we going?”
“Up, Dip! Up!”
I never liked AI. Maybe because I can’t hurt it.
It started getting noisy.
“Are they shooting at me?” I asked as I looked at the rearview screen. You’d think me blowing up one of their vehicles would make them more wary, but some sentients just never learn.
I hit The Button. I never cared much for ship-to-ship battles, so I looked over tons of data on likely patterns in airborne fights and wrote a macro for the ship’s weapons systems and connected the activation of that macro to a big button on the ship’s console. Then I painted the button red because that seemed like the color for such a button.
There were some explosions behind me and then silence, but I had also reach space, and space is always silent.
“You are now wanted for murder on 1,418 planets,” Dip informed me, “Am I correct in saying that is quite a lot of planets, Rico?”
Dip is basically a huge algorithm that takes in data to improve its AI. In that quest, he asks me lots of questions to confirm his conclusions.
“So, Dip, that makes what percentage of planets in the known universe wants me for murder?”
My theory is he’s more likely to develop an actual intelligence if I never give him a straight answer and finally frustrate him into figuring things out on his own. Or maybe I just don’t like answering absolutes.
“Approximately one times ten to the negative six percent of the planets in my database has you wanted for murder.”
“Now, does that seem like a large percentage?”
“It is my understanding that most sentients would consider that number to be extremely small.”
“That’s the great thing about the universe, Dip. You can massacre an entire planet and still find a nearly infinite number of places to go where no one has ever heard of you.”
“Are there any other great things about the universe you could give me as input?”
I looked out the window. “It’s mainly black.” That’s my favorite color.
“I have processed this new data and reached a number of conclusions. May I run those conclusions by you, Rico, and get your feedback?”
I took out Niko and plugged him into a data port. “In a minute, Dip.” Time to finish up the job. Plus, Vito had some ‘splainin’ to do.
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I didn’t expect six to try and draw on me at once, but, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting anything. I like to be surprised.
Now I’m fast – we’re talking brain altered by top neurosurgeons fast – but I’m not usually fast enough to shoot six humanoids before any can get off a shot… especially since I didn’t have the drop on them or anything. Still, I had drawn my two blasters and shot two of them before the rest had even a full grip on their guns. Those shots panicked the rest, and only one bolt came even near me. When the noise died down, there were more than six bodies lying on the ground. I wasn’t sure if it was my shots or theirs that killed the others, but, frankly, in the past few seconds I had grown a deep-seated prejudice against purple aliens with tentacles coming out of their heads and thus didn’t really care.
Their blood was orange, if you were curious. If there’s come correlation between alien skin color and blood color, I never figured it out.
“Anyone else?” I asked as I put my guns back in their holsters. The aliens made a number of sounds, all of them variations of the word “No” according to my universal translator.
I dropped Niko out so Niko could do what Niko does – collect DNA and other info off corpses for verifying I had done my job – while I headed for the door. This was a civilized city in that I could expect police to show up at some point. In some places, the reaction time for police was so quick they’d be there half-way through the trigger pull. In others, I had enough time to play a couple hands of Solitaire before making my hasty escape. I used to look up police response time before landing on the planet, but I stopped a while ago to add a little spice to otherwise boring hits.
Niko crawled up my leg and into my pocket, his spider-like body folding back into a ball. Hopefully one of those I killed was the target, but, if not, I was still getting off this rock either way. I wasn’t the one who screwed this up.
I was just a couple yards from the bar when I heard sirens coming my way. Now, if I was after a dangerous psychopath, I’d probably be quieter about it – if I weren’t me, that is. Well, maybe the first officer on the scene could at least serve as a cautionary example to others.
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There are two main parts to organized crime: the organization and the crime. I focus pretty much exclusively on the crime half… and I’m very good at that half. But those tasked with the organization have a tendency to screw things up from time to time, and, to be frank, that sometimes makes me a little irate. And, as a certified psychopath, you think people would be more cautious about making me irate.
I took out my phone. “Vito, my instruction were to kill the purple alien with tentacles out of its head at the north most bar in Zertres, right?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“I see about three dozen purple aliens with tentacles coming out of their heads in front of me, that’s what.”
“Uh… maybe I got the instructions wrong. Maybe you’re supposed to kill the alien there that isn’t purple with tentacles coming out of its head.”
“That would be me, Vito! And I don’t get paid enough to take on someone as dangerous as me. Can you at least get me a name?”
“No, I’m afraid I’m a couple layers away from where the order originated. The target should be there, but it would probably take me hours to…”
I hung up on Vito and took a deep breath (never kill angry). One option was to kill everyone there, but I had neither the time nor the explosives for that. Since about all the patrons of the bar were looking at me and noting my lack of purpleness and tentacles, I decided to try a direct approach to locate my target. I’ve never been much for discretion anyway; I’m a hitman, not an assassin.
“Anyone here have reasons a major crime syndicate would want him dead?”
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