Monday, September 20, 2004

*walks in* HELLO? I cant see! *lights match on his stubble* that’s better. Hmmm… I need to shave…
Hello again my friends.

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanocaniosis?

That’s not a word. That’s the sound you make when you catch the disease.
See the connection? *achoo* or if you are Osaka from Azumanga Daioh: *A-CHOI!* ^-^ sounds nothing like…
*aahpneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanocaniosis*
Hey, I just made the word longer. Cool.

Had a boring weekend. Work,work,work. Makes me wish I had gone to that party. Oh well, what ever happens, happens.

I opened this chocolate sweet the other day, and inside the wrapper it said

“Sleep Late, dream longer,”

How cool is that? A sweet telling me to sleep longer. Well, im never one to argue with a sweet…


Whats that skittle?

Get on with it?

Okay….

I bought Darren Hayes’ new album this weekend. It isnt as good as the first one. I also got the Corrs’ new album. Its very good. ^-^


I know I promised more “See no Evil,” but I haven’t quite got it finished yet. I will post it by the end of the week.
THEN I need help. I got the story lines for the last two chapters, but I kinda want to put at least two more chapters between chapter six and the final chapters. But I have no ideas. If anyone has got a concept that they wanna see in “See No Evil,” (within reason) I am now accepting suggestions. PM me or something. Don’t email me tho, cuz I never get on my email. Your name will be included on the credits if I decide that I can use the concept…

AND NOW!!!

About october/november last year I came up with a concept for a manga, after watching “Noir”. I had an assassin called Kira and a title: “Stacked Deck”.

But that was it. I had nothing else. Its remained in Planning Pre-production stage for the last year. I made it my New Years resolution to write “Stacked Deck,” but I was coming up empty…


UNTIL NOW!!!

Presenting a short feature from the same twisted mind that brought you “See No Evil, Speak No Evil,”


Stacked Deck

They say that Los Angeles is the crime capital of the world. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Despite the amount of crime that does occur there, my job has only required me to go there once. On the other hand, Las Vegas has seen me walk in out of the desert many times. The largest centre of legalised gambling in America, if not the known world. And with so much money changing hands in a blink of an eye, it isn’t surprising to find a large amount of Money Laundering occurring here a lot. And whereas it is not considered to be as much a crime as theft, murder, rape and the like, Money is a powerful force, and thus laundering it creates complicated situations. No one can be considered clean in Las Vegas. Not the crooks, not the casinos, not the law, not even the tourists. And when a person gets too dirty for another persons taste, they call me. I am called Kira. I can’t remember my real name.

* * *

“I don’t like Las Vegas. It’s too bright and colourful for me. Everything is demanding your attention. I prefer to stay hidden. I especially hate the people here. The excitement is near fever pitch, which causes people to do stupid things. Everyone is so goddamn happy. I wish sometimes that I could lose myself in that happiness. But I can’t. It only reminds me of what I’ve lost…”

* * *

I saunter into a Casino called “The Golden Alley” with the air of a pro. As if I have done this many times before. Which I have.
I can feel every eye in the place on me as I slide across the floor to get some chips. And so they should. Im dressed to kill. Literally.
I give a killer smile as I collect my chips and saunter off. I give the image of a confident 21 year old, body length blonde hair done up in a loop that reaches down to the small of my back, my red gown slipping ever so slightly to reveal the stuff of men’s dreams. But that’s all it is. An image. I feel nothing, save for a small portion of satisfaction that the job is going well. After being isolated for so many years, feelings disappear to leave an empty husk.
I make my way to the Blackjack tables. A habit of mine. The dealer acknowledges my presence and deals me in for the next game.
I slide my cards across to me and peek at them. Ace of Spades and King of Hearts. The cards favour me tonight. I stick. I win. Blackjack.
I play a couple more games for show, and then slip away with my chips.
I head up the stairs to the top floor.
My target is expecting an assassin. He has been given enough warnings. He knows death is coming. But what he is not expecting is death to come tonight looking beautiful and smelling of expensive perfume. If looks could kill…but then if that were true I wouldn’t need the Walther P99 that was nestled in my bag.
The guard at the top stopped me. But he is tired and his hormones are kicking his tired butt.
“Im afraid this area is off limits.” He says, with a leer.
“Oh. That sounds naughty.” I reply with a giggle.
“Yeah. I may have to punish you.” He tells me, obvious what sort of “Punishment” he is thinking of.
“Then give it to me big boy.” His smile grows wider as he leans in…

* * *
“I sometimes have flashes of memory. Places I had been, people I had met, things I had done before I woke up that one day in hospital with no memory of who I was, where I was from or anything like that.
Sometimes those small glimpses tell me things. Like that I abhor killing for no reason. That I wasn’t always an assassin. That I had a family. The only proof that I even exist was this locket that I used to carry around with me. It is half a locket and I assumed that someone that used to be close to me had the other half. My half has a picture of me as a child, with someone’s arms around me. The arms were attached to someone who, I guessed, was in the other half of the picture, which was in the other locket. I didn’t know. And, at some point shortly after I regained consciousness, I stopped caring as well.”

* * *

The needle slid in too easily. I frowned at the body of the guard, slumped on the floor. The needle contained a toxin that would keep him down for hours. However, if he wasn’t found and given treatment within five hours, he would start to lose control of his body functions and die eventually. It gave him a chance. Part of me was telling me to end his life now, and part of me, the old me, was telling me to leave him as he was. I left him.
The main double door at the end of the hallway opened without much force and I walked into a darkened room.
“Who’s there?” A voice challenged.
“The Ace of Spades,” I replied.
“So, I am to be visited by the famous Ace of Spades? People must think I am very dangerous to send such a highly acclaimed assassin.”
He swivelled around on his chair. He was in his late forties, his hair almost totally grey, his face starting to be wrinkled by age.
My gun was levelled at his head. But he seemed to look past it to my face, lit by the moonlight streaming in through the window, high enough to escape the neon nonsense that is Las Vegas. His eyes widened.
“Sarah?”
Something inside me twitched.
“Sarah? Is that you? Don’t you recognise me? It’s your father.”
I said nothing, felt nothing, except a small twitch in my hand that prevented me from pulling the trigger.
“Look,” He dug in his jacket. And I pulled the trigger.

* * *

“I have always prided myself on being able to do a flawless job. That night was an unmitigated disaster. I stayed too long. I acted like an amateur. And so I paid the price.”

* * *

I watched the cartridge bounce and roll across the carpet, coming to a halt with smoke still streaming from the hole where the bullet had been. Blood stained the window, hiding the room from the moon. The man’s hand dropped from his jacket to reveal a locket. The twin of my locket. I picked it up and opened it. A picture of the man, about twenty years younger was inside, his arms reaching across to the edge of the locket. I put mine next to it and the picture was complete. I dropped both lockets.
Then the door behind me burst open and dozens of police swarmed in. I noted that a panic alarm had been tripped as I had been talking to the man. My gun was removed from me and I was escorted from the building. And all the while, I just didn’t care.

* * *

Detective Johnson stubbed out the end of his cigarette and immediately started another. He was a big cop, black, and had been listening to me for the last half an hour. A tape player was recording our every word and behind a mirror we were being watched by analytical teams to see if I was lying. I had no reason to lie.
“So, even though he was your father that you hadn’t seen for at least ten years, if not possibly longer and the fact he could have had the clues to your identity, you had no remorse or sadness in the fact that you killed him?”
“No. I never knew my father. I must have once, but he didn’t try to find me after I awoke. And he was a criminal. And he was an assignment. Why should I care?”
“Because he was your father?”
“That word means nothing to me.”
“If you had known he was you father before you were assigned to kill him, would you have done it?”
“If the cards were right, yes.”
“The cards?”
“Yes. Life is one big card game and either God is a crappy dealer or the deck is stacked. That’s how I ended up here. The deck was stacked against me.”
Detective Johnson sighed and stood up.
“I think we have heard enough. You will remain in custody until your trial, okay?”
“That’s fine. I’ve been dealt the cards, now I have to play them. Even if I lose.”
“You sure like your card analogies, don’t you?”
“Im the Ace of Spades. I play my life around the cards.”
“Whatever. Good Night Sarah.”
“I am called Kira. I don’t know my real name.”
Detective Johnson shook his head and switched off the light, leaving only a small stream of light flowing through the open door. Leaving me alone.

* * *

From the author of “See no Evil, Speak No Evil,”

All characters © Phil Weston; all characters are works of fiction, any resemblance to people alive or dead is purely coincidental.

19/9/04


Well? What do ya think? Nice lil “short”, aint it? And Im glad I managed to achiev a New Years resolution.

Welcome back to Demon Messiah from his lil trip. Hope he enjoyed himself.

And finally:



Don’t ask. Im not quite sure myself. I drew it for a reason.

Laters my friends…

PS, Snow Angel…

A word with every vowel in it… ummm …. Aeiou??? How about that? Or alternativley: pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis ^-^




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