“You’ve rather miscalculated, you see,” the stupid guy says.
“You’re the one tied to a chair with a gun to his head,” Jake says, frustration colouring every word. Andy watches him cautiously. Jake’s got a hair-trigger temper, and he’s liable to mess things up if he loses his cool now. Not that Andy blames him. The idiot they’ve kidnapped has the sort of face you want to beat up on, just because. What’s his name? Something weird, Sher-something. Makes Andy think of Sherwood Forest. Maybe he’ll just call him Robin Hood. No, Maid Marian. Just for fun.
“Yes, and the knots are quite poorly done, really,” Maid Marian says. “Given another fifteen minutes, I imagine I could get free of them.”
“Another fifteen minutes and you’ll be dead,” Jake growls. “We’re just waiting on the boss.”
Andy circles around cautiously to check the knots. They look like they’re holding firm. Maid Marian’s just trying to psyche them out. Definitely. He’ll be glad to be rid of this one. He’s too bloody mouthy. It was lucky they’d managed to grab him when there was hardly anyone around – just that washed-up old guy coming out of the restaurant down the street. One witness isn’t gonna do jack, especially when Maid Marian’s gonna be dead in ten minutes when their employer shows up.
If they’d had a little more time, Andy would’ve planned it so there wasn’t even a single witness. They were working on a time limit, though. That was the problem with hiring out. People could get so bloody demanding when contracting murder.
Andy doesn’t try to sugar-coat what he does. It’s how he keeps his feet on the ground. He’ll never make the mistake of thinking he knows more than he does, or taking on more than he’s capable of. He’s the one who’s kept Jake out of prison so far, and he intends to keep on in this line of work just as long as he can. Retirement comes early in this profession, and he intends to have plenty to live on by the time he’s forced to quit. He’s been kicking around the idea of hiring out to the younger guys just starting out. Making the plans for them so they don’t get caught. It’s a thought, anyway.
Is Maid Marian smiling at him?
“What’s so funny?” Andy asks in a friendly voice. Always good to be friendly. It’s nothing to do with the good cop-bad cop routine some of the marks accuse them of playing. Andy just thinks it’s hilarious when they try and work out if his being friendly means they can convince him to let them go, or if it means he’s just a total psycho.
“It gives you a rush of power to think that you’re a contract killer,” Maid Marian says. “You enjoy thinking of yourself in those terms, probably to make yourself feel better about your childhood. What was it, abuse? Neglect? Yes, definitely neglect at least, your fingernails are proof of that. You want to think of yourself as stronger and more powerful than you were. Your suit is expensive but you haven’t realised your supposedly gold cuff-links are fake. A man of true taste and good bearing would know better. You’re fake, and you feel fake. You know that you’re a poor boy pretending to be rich and in control and you live in fear of the moment when it all falls apart and you realise you’re nothing.”
Andy stares at Maid Marian. Jake stares at Andy.
Their employer wants to watch as Maid Marian dies. They’ll get another five thousand for letting him shoot the bastard in the face. Then again, it’s only five thou.
“Kill him,” Andy tells Jake casually.
Maid Marian outright beams at Andy, and for a moment, Andy really wants to break his neck. Then he realises he knows the look in Maid Marian’s eyes – it’s that look that says, I know something you don’t, and it’s going to be a painful lesson for you.
Jake raises his gun.
“For fuck’s sake, Sherlock, stop getting kidnapped,” says the washed-out old guy from down the street, and then shoots twice with barely a second between shots to switch targets.
Jake’s head explodes over the floor. Andy tries to stop the blood gushing from his shoulder and dimly thinks that he was right. It’s a very painful lesson indeed.
no subject
“You’ve rather miscalculated, you see,” the stupid guy says.
“You’re the one tied to a chair with a gun to his head,” Jake says, frustration colouring every word. Andy watches him cautiously. Jake’s got a hair-trigger temper, and he’s liable to mess things up if he loses his cool now. Not that Andy blames him. The idiot they’ve kidnapped has the sort of face you want to beat up on, just because. What’s his name? Something weird, Sher-something. Makes Andy think of Sherwood Forest. Maybe he’ll just call him Robin Hood. No, Maid Marian. Just for fun.
“Yes, and the knots are quite poorly done, really,” Maid Marian says. “Given another fifteen minutes, I imagine I could get free of them.”
“Another fifteen minutes and you’ll be dead,” Jake growls. “We’re just waiting on the boss.”
Andy circles around cautiously to check the knots. They look like they’re holding firm. Maid Marian’s just trying to psyche them out. Definitely. He’ll be glad to be rid of this one. He’s too bloody mouthy. It was lucky they’d managed to grab him when there was hardly anyone around – just that washed-up old guy coming out of the restaurant down the street. One witness isn’t gonna do jack, especially when Maid Marian’s gonna be dead in ten minutes when their employer shows up.
If they’d had a little more time, Andy would’ve planned it so there wasn’t even a single witness. They were working on a time limit, though. That was the problem with hiring out. People could get so bloody demanding when contracting murder.
Andy doesn’t try to sugar-coat what he does. It’s how he keeps his feet on the ground. He’ll never make the mistake of thinking he knows more than he does, or taking on more than he’s capable of. He’s the one who’s kept Jake out of prison so far, and he intends to keep on in this line of work just as long as he can. Retirement comes early in this profession, and he intends to have plenty to live on by the time he’s forced to quit. He’s been kicking around the idea of hiring out to the younger guys just starting out. Making the plans for them so they don’t get caught. It’s a thought, anyway.
Is Maid Marian smiling at him?
“What’s so funny?” Andy asks in a friendly voice. Always good to be friendly. It’s nothing to do with the good cop-bad cop routine some of the marks accuse them of playing. Andy just thinks it’s hilarious when they try and work out if his being friendly means they can convince him to let them go, or if it means he’s just a total psycho.
“It gives you a rush of power to think that you’re a contract killer,” Maid Marian says. “You enjoy thinking of yourself in those terms, probably to make yourself feel better about your childhood. What was it, abuse? Neglect? Yes, definitely neglect at least, your fingernails are proof of that. You want to think of yourself as stronger and more powerful than you were. Your suit is expensive but you haven’t realised your supposedly gold cuff-links are fake. A man of true taste and good bearing would know better. You’re fake, and you feel fake. You know that you’re a poor boy pretending to be rich and in control and you live in fear of the moment when it all falls apart and you realise you’re nothing.”
Andy stares at Maid Marian. Jake stares at Andy.
Their employer wants to watch as Maid Marian dies. They’ll get another five thousand for letting him shoot the bastard in the face. Then again, it’s only five thou.
“Kill him,” Andy tells Jake casually.
Maid Marian outright beams at Andy, and for a moment, Andy really wants to break his neck. Then he realises he knows the look in Maid Marian’s eyes – it’s that look that says, I know something you don’t, and it’s going to be a painful lesson for you.
Jake raises his gun.
“For fuck’s sake, Sherlock, stop getting kidnapped,” says the washed-out old guy from down the street, and then shoots twice with barely a second between shots to switch targets.
Jake’s head explodes over the floor. Andy tries to stop the blood gushing from his shoulder and dimly thinks that he was right. It’s a very painful lesson indeed.