MurderMax: Part 5

This story is quickly becoming one big mess, I have no idea where it's going. Each chapter seems to be just trying to fix the mistakes that the previous chapter left behind. It's getting difficult to keep myself going but I definitely can't quit now. I can do this!

--------------------

The noise of the city never stops, people are always talking and cars are always driving. Something is always happening. David stood on the roof across from the Ontario Art Gallery, a cold breeze running through his jacket. His face was masked in a ski mask he conveniently found in his closet the previous night. He had been waiting there for a hour. A long and painful hour. He had been running the scenario through his head constantly. He knew he needed to pull the trigger.

He had told Brenda that he was needed for a business dinner, to meet his new partners. He had nearly cried as he kissed her and the children good-bye. A tear or two had leaked out, but his family, delighted and proud of him, had mistaken them for tears of happiness. That made it so much worse. He knew he had to fix this but currently it seemed hopeless.

As he waited on the roof a few thoughts ran through his head. One of the first thoughts in his head was regarding the location. He was so close to his target yet the briefcase contained a disassembled sniper rifle. He did not know which kind since he had no prior experience with guns and simply followed a booklet he found in the case, instructing him on how to assemble it. As looked out at the downtown area of Toronto he was in, he could see plenty of places that would be better suited . There were farther away and less conspicuous places, places where he could shoot and get out without being close to the carnage. The weapon and the location did not match.

Not only did the weapon and the location not match but the location was bad no matter how he thought about it. He was so close, once he fired a shot, they would be all over him. There was way he could get away without being seen. From a farther distance getting away would be much more feasible.

Also, it was a Tuesday. Who goes to an art exhibit on a Tuesday? It seemed very strange to him. The date aside, however, he knew he had to find a way out.

A black car turned around the corner and parked right in front of the main entrance. David hurriedly lifted the weapon on to the ledge of the building and looked through the scope. A large man exited the car and walked to the back seat door. He opened it, and a man walked out. The man left the car with his towards towards David, his face shielded from view. David's heart jumped with panic. He could not tell if this was his target or not. He had spent all of the previous night memorizing the face to the best of his abilities but in that moment it had all been in vain. The man walked towards the entrance. David had the gun focused on him.

“Pull the trigger.”

“But what if it's not him.”

“But what if it is.”

“I can't risk it.”

“You can and you will, his car matches the description. He's on time.”

“I can't do it.”

“You have to, he'll get away.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“SHOOT HIM.”

Blam!

The sound echoed through the streets. The screams came loudly, crying from the sidewalk below. Total chaos ensued.

David did not have time to look at the streets. The second after he pulled the trigger, he had dropped the gun. It made a thud on the roof as his feet pattered away. He jumped on to the stair way outside the building and made his quick decent, skipping steps in his haste. His heart pounded in his chest as his fear grew exponentially with each step.

Navigating the alleys ways he ran, aiming for the general direction of Kensington Market, only a few blocks away. He figured he could lose himself in the crowd there. It was a slim chance but it was the only plan he could think of. He did not know if anyone saw him and this uncertainty only made him more uneasy. Every footstep that was not his own made him want to scream.

He found a dumpster in the alley and quickly got rid of his jacket and mask, tossing them with the rest of the trash. He could only hope that it would throw any followers off his tail. Spadina Avenue was so close, all he had to do was cross the street to make it to Kensington.

Once he reached the street he dove into traffic, not bothering to take in whether or not it was safe. Horns blared loudly in his ears but he kept running and navigating his way through the vehicles. A car pulled in front of him, swerved in his way and stopped. A window opened and on the other side David saw the face of Mr. White.

“Get in,” he said.

Without a second though David opened the door and jumped in. The car took off, speeding down the streets, avoid obstacles with incredible precision.

“This is fucked,” said David, panting for breath. “How are we going to get out of this one.”

“These situations are not new to us,” said Mr. Black. “Unfortunately, you aren't allowed to know how we get away or where were going.”

“What?” Said David

The pain of a needle pierced his neck. The world began to go fuzzy. Everything began to slow and his hearing dulled. It was all fading away.

“I just want to go home,” David said before his consciousness faded to black.

MurderMax: Part 4

Everytime I start writing a new section it begins to get progressively worse. At least, that's what the writing feels like. I'm hoping that this is typical in NaNoWriMo because I'm getting constantly more ashamed of letting people read this.

-------------------------

David stood outside the restaurant, peering into the windows, looking for the men in suits. So far he saw no trace of them but he was a little bit early. He scanned the throngs of people milling about on the streets. It then dawned on him that he did not know what these men looked like. His memory of their faces was blurry and he could only remember them as looking identical to each other. It was then that two men walked up to him.

“Ah, Mr. Avery, there you are.” said one.

“Who are you?” replied David.

“You don't remember us?” Said the second, “we recruited you at the bar yesterday.”

“Huh,” said David.

Something was amiss. He recalled seeing two men who looked exactly the same but here, standing in front of him, was a white man and a black man.

“Are you sure that you are the exact exact two I talked to yesterday?” He asked.

“Yes,” said the black man. “I'm Mr. White.”

“And you are?” Asked David turning to the other man.

“Mr. Black,” he replied.

“Of course you are.”

“Well, shall we eat?” Said Mr. White.

They entered the restaurant, took a seat in one of the more secluded spaces, and ordered their food. David took in the decorations of the room while they waited, not wanting to initiate conversation. He had no idea what to say to them, another part of him did not even want to know what they had to say.

“Well Mr. Avery, we have our first job for you,” said Mr. Black.

“Uh yeah, about that, I have no idea what's going on,” said David. “You take me home and then tell my wife that I got a promotion and that we'll be making way more money now. How am I going to explain to my wife that not only am I not making more money but that I'm actually not making any money at all. I mean, thank you and everything for taking me home even though, now that I think about it, you shouldn't know where I live but you've really made a mess of things.”

The conversation paused. David waited for a reply but the looks on the faces of Mr. White and Mr. Black were not encouraging.

“So,” said Mr. White, disrupting the silence. “He doesn't remember.”

“I told you he wouldn't,” said Mr. Black. “He was way gone.”

“Regardless,” said Mr. White. “I'm going to say simply and quickly. You signed a document that basically says that you'll be a hired killer for us and if you try to disobey our orders, or quick before we decide to let you go, say no, or run away and all that then we will hunt you down and kill you.”

“What?” Exclaimed David, “Also, I'm pretty sure that that document wouldn't hold up in a court of law.”

“But we will still kill you,” insisted Mr. Black.

“This,” said David, unable to find words. “This is retarded. I'm out of here.”

He began to stand.

“Not so fast,” they said simultaneously, pulling pistols from their jackets.

David froze, he had never had a gun pointed at him before. His mood quickly deteriorated from annoyance into terror.

“We are serious people,” said Mr. White. “You're going to work for us, or you and your family are going to die.”

“Yes sirs,” said said a dejected and afraid David.

“Here's your first target,” said Mr. Black, sliding a folder towards him.

David opened it and perused the pages. Most of it was complete gibberish, jargon of a another profession. He looked at the name.

Frederick Hoffmeyer

“Frederick Hoffmeyer,” David muttered. “Should I know him?”

“Not likely,” said Mr. White. “Most of our targets are fairly unknown to the general public. However, they aren't your average person. Our targets are powerful influential people. People you typically wouldn't want to mess with.”

“So why are you making me mess with them?” Asked David.

“Because we don't want to,” said Mr. Black.

“Mr. Hoffmeyer is going to be at the A.G.O., the Ontario Art Gallery tomorrow for a special exhibit, said Mr. White. “The exhibit starts around seven at night, be sure to get there early so that you don't miss him. He's only going to be outside for a small period of time. Roughly twenty steps from his car to the doors of the building. We'll be placing a rifle on top of the building across from the A.G.O., all you need to do is gain access to the roof. Grab the weapon in the suitcase, and shoot him while he's between the car and building. He might have bodyguards but the gun could probably shoot through them or something, probably.

“What do you mean by probably?” Exclaimed David.

“Well, these things can be fickle, “said Mr. Black. “They almost never go as planned. You'll figure it out.”

“I apologize for not actually staying for lunch but we've got to go,” said Mr. White. “We are busy and serious people.”

They stood up and dropped a one hundred dollars bill on the table each.

“Wait, is that all the information you're going to give me?” Said David.

“It's all you need,” said Mr. Black. “Good bye Mr. Avery.”

Just as the exited the building a plate of food was placed in front of David.

“Where are your friends?” Asked the waiter.

“Gone, apparently,” replied David. “Could I also have a tea?”

He was left alone with his food and his thoughts. He was not sure if he could accept everything that had happened to him lately. He was going to have to kill someone. Kill someone. He imagined putting his finger on the cold, hard trigger of the gun. He pointed the barrel at his target. Mr. Hoffmeyer's head was in his cross hairs. He tried to pull the trigger. The gun would not shoot. There was no way for him to do it. He wanted to ignore it, but he had seen guns pointed at him now, his family could be in danger. It seemed like there was little other choice. He had to pull the trigger. An image of his family arrived in his head, he knew what they were doing. He imagined the gun again but this time there was an extra set of fingers on the trigger, helping him do the deed. They were making him pull the trigger.

Check it out: Part 3!

Here's the next 1000 or so words of my novel. Hopefully it doesn't suck (but it probably does).

------------------

Something was kicking his brain. David opened his eyes. He was surprised to find that the room was familiar. It was his room. He was home.

“So you're finally up, eh?” Said Brenda.

“Brenda? Oh Brenda, I'm so sorry. I should have told you,” said David

“David, it's fine. I'm proud of you. I'm willing to let this one slide because of the circumstances.”

“Circumstances?”

“Your bosses told me what happened when they showed up at our front door with you passed out in their arms. They said that, due to your great performance in the office, you've been given a promotion and you all went out to celebrate. Apparently it's difficult to politely turn down another beer.”

“Oh, uh, yeah well, you know.” said David, fumbling for words and desperately trying to remember the previous day.

“I can't believe they gave you such a large promotion. You'll be making business trips and making important business deals. We can afford a boat and you now have no reason to put off making a university savings account for the kids. Your bosses told me since you were clearly in no condition to do so and I was about to smack you conscious,” said Brenda. “There's some iced tea on your bed stand because I know that's what you like to drink when your hung over. Yes, I still remember things from our university days. I'm going to make us some bacon for breakfast, we need to celebrate somehow.”

“Uh, thanks”

Brenda left the room and David could hear her footsteps as she descended the stairs. He looked over at the clock. It said nine past eleven. He took a drink from the iced tea.

“God bless her soul,” he thought as he savoured the drink.

He stayed in his bed for a little while, thinking about the previous day. There were plenty of chunks missing from his memory. He recalled entering the bar after he was fired but definitely did not recall leaving it. Some blurry ghostly images of two men in black suits haunted his memory. He recalled talking to them. He wondered if they were the ones who took him home. If they were, why did they have to make up such a ridiculous lie to cover up the truth?

“Oh shit! How am I going to break this to Brenda? I didn't get a promotion. Oh crap.”

He jumped out of bed. He paused, holding on to his knees. Getting up so suddenly like that was not such a good idea.

Every creak of the stairs along with every explosion of the Saturday morning cartoons the kids were watching made him regret ever being born. He walked in to the kitchen to find Brenda there, tending to the bacon sizzling in the frying pan. The smell calmed him instantly.

“So you're finally out of bed?” said Brenda.

“Heh, yes,” said David. “Listen honey...”

“Here's your bacon,” interupted Brenda, tossing a some strips on to a plate and placing them in front of him.

“Thanks dear,” said David. “The terrible news could wait until after bacon.”

“Kids, come and get some bacon,” yelled Brenda into the living room.

First came Josh bounding with his seemingly near limitless energy followed shortly by Claire looking disdainfully at her younger brother's jumping antics.

“We've got some good news today. Your father got a promotion at his job. Here's your celebratory bacon,” said Brenda.

“Congratulations daddy,” said Claire, putting her arms around him. “I'm happy for you.”

“Aw thanks honey,” said David.

“This is the absolute worst,” he thought to himself.

“Yeah, good job dad,” said Josh.

“Thanks bud,” said David.

“What does this mean, though,” said Claire, inquisitive as ever.

“It means we can get new things,” said Brenda.

“Like what?”

“Like, a boat, or a new car, a new house, or maybe a cottage.”

“That sounds so cool.” yelled Josh. “I want a dirtbike.”

“Maybe when you're older, squirt,” laughed David, watching his life pass before his eyes.

Brenda and the kids continued to create long lists of every new thing they wanted to buy. Each more expensive and useless than the last and each new item mentioned caused David more and more to want the world to disappear. Erasing all his lies and mistakes as well as the lies and mistakes of others.

Gradually the conversation began to die down and the kids left to play outside and Brenda collected the dishes and placed them in the sink. The kitchen was soon silent.

“Now is the time, David. You have to tell her now. Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, I can't do it, do it, do it, Do it, Do It, DO, IT,” said his mind.

“Ah, um, listen Brenda,” he stammered.

“I know, honey, you're probably tired and sore. Just go back to bed, don't worry about a thing,” she replied.

“Augh! Don't tempt me like that!”

“No, it's not that,” he said. “It's just that...”

“Oh, before you go back to sleep, your bosses told me that they want to meet with you tomorrow for lunch.

“Really?” David almost yelled.

“Yeah, they said to be at Evergreen Thai at noon, do you know where that is?”

“Yes I do, it's right outside of St. Patrick station and it's delicious,” said David. “You know honey, I think I will take a little nap. Wake me up if you need me.”

“Sure honey.”

He expelled a sigh of relief as he turned around. He was thankful that he could, for a little while at least, put off telling the truth. Maybe these new so called bosses of his could help him out. He was curious as to what they wanted from him. He walked up the stairs.

“Make sure you thank your new deity or something, because you are getting one, and if you make it out of this ordeal alive it will be because of him.”

MurderMax Part Two

Hey, it's "chapter" two!

-----------------------------

“I love my wife, you know, love her to death. It's just that she sometimes expects so much from me. She wants this, she wants that. She always hounds me to start a university savings account for the kids, you know, for when they go to university. Because, according to her, they are going to university. Not even college, you know, university. It has to be university. Not that I have anything against university. Only an idiot would have something against higher education. It's just that I'd like for my children to choose for themselves what they want to do. Whatever makes them happy and if that means not going to university then so be it, you know?”

“Uh huh.”

“I don't know how I'm going to break the news to her. She is going to kill me. I should have been more fiscally responsible. This really is all my fault. Actually no it's the company's fault for firing me. I was a good worker. How in the god forsaken crap of a hell could possibly not be profitable to them?

“I don't know man, that's tough.”

“See? You understand. You know what it's like to be a working man, providing for your family.”

“I'm single with no kids. Also, I don't have a job. That's why I'm here at noon, drinking beer and listening to you.”

“Yeah, well, good luck with your life and stuff.”

“Thanks man.”

“What's your name?”

“Ted”

“Ted, heh, Ted. Ted.”

It was around this point that David began to lose his interest in whatever Ted had to say. His head lolled about as his mind wandered, safe in his world of drunken thoughts, where no one could fire him or be disappointed in him.

The bar was fairly empty save for Ted, who was sitting beside him and two serious looking men in black suits sitting at a table on the other side of the room. The men serious men both had a cup of coffee yet neither of them appeared to be drinking it. They also did not seem to be speaking to each other. They were just sitting.

Soon enough David began to bore of his thoughts. He knew he had to sing. His mind knew that singing was the proper thing to do at that moment in time. He opened his mouth, letting his soul guide him to the proper tune.

“Just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world,” he began.

Ted quickly shuffled away.

“She took the midnight train goin' anywhere.”

Just then David felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see that it belonged to one of the men in black suits. The other black suited man stood there as well, right beside the first. Both men looked identical, as if they were clones. David tried for the life of him to find something that distinguished them in order to prove that he was not seeing double. Yet, as much as he struggled, he could not.

“We could not but overhear that you have recently been laid off,” said the first.

“Um, yes,” said David, visibly frightened.

“Brenda, is going to be upset with you, isn't she,” said the second.

“Um, yes,” said David, visibly more frightened than he was a couple seconds ago.

“We can help you, if you want a job you can work for us,” said the first.

“What do you guys do?” asked David.

“We run an organization specializing in human management,” said the second.

“What would my job be?” asked David.

“You'll be a human resource eliminator,” said the first.

“A what?” said David, “like I'd be firing people?

“In a sense,” said the second. “You would be assisting our group by terminating certain people deemed unhelpful to our general progress. You will be an assassin.”

“An assassin?” David laughed, “Oh, that's good. You guys really had me going there. Yeah, sure, I'll totally be your assassin.”

“Excellent,” said the first. “Sign here.”

He handed a pen to David who spent a couple moments trying to grab it. Once he finally managed to hold it properly he scribbled his name where it said, in big letters, sign here.

“Someone will call you tomorrow with more details,” said the first. “Everything will be fine now, you won't have to worry about providing for your family any more.”

“Very good,” said David. “Now if you fellas don't mind I need to find a way home in several hours.”

He stood where he was for a few seconds until something felt wrong. He no longer felt very good. His face contorted slightly, he paused.

BLEUGH

His breakfast covered the floor and the shoes of the two men.

“I'm sorry,” said David.

Everything turned to darkness.

The Adventures of MurderMax

Here is the first chapter of my NaNoWriMo. A couple years ago I wrote a chapter of a story called the Adventures of MurderMax and never finished it so this month I'm going to rewrite that story and actually finish it. This is how it begins.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The alarm went off at seven o'clock, waking up David Avery with its bothersome screeching. His hand slapped everything it could reach in the hopes of hitting the snooze button. Wildly flailing it slapped his wife, Brenda Avery, causing her to mutter a few cuss words under her breath towards his general direction. Finally he hit something that made the unholy noise stop and the room was quiet again, perfect for sleeping, except for the fact that all the effort he put into slapping things had completely woken him up. He sat up, slipped his feet into his slippers, and let out a loud yawn as he stretched.

“Friday,” he said in a tiresome voice, “let's do this.”

He stood up, shuffled into the washroom, and began his daily routine. Teeth began to get brushed, stubble shaved, and a suit put on. Sometime during his routine Brenda had also arisen from the bed, slipped down the stairs and begun to prepare breakfast. In mere minutes the kids, Claire and Josh, would be up and wanting something to eat.

Sure enough, at almost exactly the predicted time, the children wandered into the kitchen and poured themselves some juice. David wolfed down a couple waffles and followed it up with a glass of orange juice that he snatched from Josh's hand.

“Dad!” Came the cry of protest.

“What? That was for your old man, wasn't it? All right, I need to be heading out, love you.”

He kissed his children and wife good bye and promptly walked out the door to the car. The traffic that morning was fairly bad, cars lined up along the 401, although this scenery was not uncommon to him. He looked out his window, staring at the Toronto skyline with the CN Tower standing tall and proud amidst a sea of buildings.

Finally arriving downtown, he made his way to the office. Walked inside elevator among all the other people, going to their various floors. David pressed the button for the twentieth floor. He listened to the typical small talk, murmurs, coughs, and shuffling of feet as the elevator made its stops and people entered and exited its door. Finally the number twenty lit up and he slip through the people and entered his work place. People were busy as ever. He could hear the fax machines, printers, water cooler chit-chat, and every else that one typically hears in an office. He made his way to his cubicle, greeting people as he walked. Finally reaching it he sat down in his chair, stretched his legs and prepared himself for a day of work.

After only minutes of being in his cubicle he was greeted by two familiar faces. One of the faces was his one of his bosses Jared Walters, the other was another of his bosses Carl Matheson. Jared was a tall man at roughly forty years of age, his face still kept signs of man only thirty five. Carl was slightly shorter and pudgy, his moustache was kept in a constant state of perfection.

“Hey boss,” said David looking at Jared and shifting his gaze to Carl, “boss, what's up?”

“Not much,” said Jared, “except that you're fired, unfortunately.”

“Yeah, it's a real pity,” piped in Carl.

“What?” Said David, obviously mishearing things.

“It's a recession or whatever,” Jared said, looking at his watch. “Business is dropping and the company can't afford to keep you.”

“Yes you can,” said David, desperately trying not to yell. “I'm pretty sure you could afford to pay myself and everyone else in this entire building double.”

“Um... yeah no. Well you see, we had some people, who know money and things by the way, make a chart and it clearly said that we couldn't afford to keep you. You just aren't making the company a profit in the long run.” Jared replied as his eyes followed the ass of Meghan, the new intern.

“Tough break man,” piped in Carl.

“Fuck off Carl,” snapped David.

“Hey!” Carl said, “no need to get angry here, you have your whole life ahead of you.”

“I have a mortgage, car payments, I can't really afford to not have a job right now.”

“You'll find a way, it's a good time to be alive right now.” Jared eyes were again eyeing the ass of Meghan as it walked by a second time.

“Jared, you make twice as much as I do, did. Don't even begin to talk like you know what I'm going through.”

“Uh-huh,” Jared said as Meghan had stopped to pick up something she dropped. “Listen I'd love to continue talking with you but you have two minutes to get out of the building, or something. Have a good one.”

Jared and Carl turned around in almost unison and left in the direction of Meghan's ass. David sat in his chair, shocked and unable to think of what to do. Moments passed and soon his phone rang.

“Hello, David Avery speaking,” he answered.

“Hey David, it's Jared. Since you picked up that means you're still here. I was hoping that you wouldn't pick up. I'm going to call again in three minutes and I'll be sorely disappointed if you answer it again.”

The line went dead and once again David was left with his thoughts. Most of these thoughts, however, consisted of the word fuck.

He stood up, grabbed his briefcase and walked out towards the elevator.

“Hey Dave, going for a coffee?” Said a voice.

“Fuck you,” said David, not looking to see the source of the question.

He left the building and looked out around the city. Suddenly every part of it seemed awful. Garbage blew across his feet, carried by the wind. The sounds of horns honking, people yelling things from street corners, everything normally distasteful but tolerable became a plague to his eyes, ears, and nose. He wanted nothing to do with the city and nothing to do with the tall buildings and the activities going on inside them. He picked a direction and walked.

On a normal day David would be aware and courteous towards those sharing the sidewalk with him but today walk forward with little regard to those in front of him. He bumped people, pushing them aside, not caring about their feeble protests.

David knew he had to find a new job. That would be easy enough he supposed, it was not like finding a job was a totally new experience to him. He knew he would have to find a job quickly, though, as his financial situation was not as good as he would like to admit to friends or family. He never was a very money minded person and knew little of investing and saving. His salary was always good enough to get by despite his inability to budget. It was at this time that he looked back on all his past financial mistakes and as each memory came to him his heart sunk lower and lower.

There was the broken old car that he bought for way more than a sane man would pay sitting in his garage. He thought that he could fix it himself despite not knowing anything about engines, or tools for that matter. Or the time he was drunk and gave a taxi driver one hundred dollars for telling him that everything would work out in the end. Clearly everything did not work out and David now needed that one hundred dollars.

“How am I going to break this to Brenda?” He thought.

His mind raced to find a solution. Nothing came to him. The only thought entering his mind was that he absolutely did not want to go home.

“Only cowards run from their problems,” said his brain.

He knew his brain was right. He knew what he had to do. He had to shut his brain up. He had to make sure that his brain stayed quiet for a while. Luckily his feet were way ahead of him and had already stepped into a bar. His mouth then took the reigns and said, “two beers please.”