++a conflict of interest++

it's a short one don't be scared...:P

The assassin arrives promptly.

He is dapper in a suit of gray wool, with a fine charcoal pinstripe. He removes his hat as he enters the office, revealing close-cropped red hair.

-Good evening, I trust I have not kept you waiting?

The Little Man rises behind the desk where he has been sitting for most of the day.

-No, no, not at all.

Heavy Drapes of velvet cover the widow behind him, blocking the grey evening light. An ornate desk lamp offers the only illumination.
There is a large snifter of amber liquid half full, next to a half empty bottle. A heavy glass ashtray overflows with gold cigarette butts.

The Little Man’s expensive suit is rumpled and black. It is warm in the office, but he keeps on his jacket in an effort to hide the large rings of sweat, staining his white shirt. His tie is loosened about his throat, the top button undone. A thin moustache quivers on his upper lip, like a small caterpillar in seizure.

The assassin closes the door and turns like a dancer. He walks without sound across the thick carpet. Ignoring the damp white hand that is offered he sits in a chair of leather and dark wood.

Smiling he places his hat on the well-polished expanse of the Little Man’s desk. His teeth gleam silver and sharp in the light of the desk lamp. Pale fish-belly eyes glitter with something like glee as he says,

-I came lickety-split and quick as a wink, and so may I ask what is it you wish?

The Little Man glances at the closed office door then sits once again in his overstuffed chair.

-Well I seem to be in quite a bit of a pickle...I 

The Assassin raises a well-manicured hand wiggling spider leg fingers.

-Please let us skip all the nonsense, my Pet.

There is no use to sitting here, all day in the dark.

He waves his hand as if shooing a fly.

-I presume there is someone you would like me to kill?

The Little Man flinches and fumbles for another gold filtered cigarette, which he lights after several attempts. His words rush out in a puff of smoke.

-I would like it very much, if you would kill my father.

The Assassin does not seem surprised at this. His sigh is sympathetic, but his eyes remain cold.

-Well I can see how this might be awkward indeed, for you to call me here for such a grim task as this. Allow me to explain just how this sort of thing works.

He reaches under his jacket and pulls out a blade

-This.Is.My.Knife

He sets it with reverence upon the Little Man's Desk

-She is quite extraordinary, is she not? Quite singular I assure you, unlike any other.

The blade is at least two-hand span in length. Made of damascened steel, it seems to ripple like water.  Almost organic it flows into a wicked needle thin point, from a carved bone hilt.

The Little Man twitches blowing smoke.

Beads of perspiration are running freely down his face. A drop quivers on the end of his nose.
He taps his ash on the desk bending the cigarette

-It is nice to be sure but I care very little how you get the job done

For a moment the Assassin seems sad, his silver teeth hidden by a tight lipped frown

-I think one should have quite a bit more respect, for the tools of a master

With a flick of the wrist he flips up the knife, balancing the point on the tip of a forefinger.

The blade starts to spin.

The Little Man stares at the quickening blade. His jaw becomes loose and he drools down his chin.
The Assassin leans closer as the knife spins faster. It flashes and pulses in the Little Man’s eyes.

-I am an artisan my Sweet, and my word is my bond.

Once I have taken a contract I will take no other until the job has been done.

 

The Little Man stares quite hypnotized.

-This is of especial importance for you my Dear. I am already bound, by another you see. A name has been given and the deal has been sealed.

The blade ceases spinning, as the hilt drops into his palm with a slap.

The Little Man wakes as if from a trance.

His jaws snap shut with an audible click.

The Assassin moves with quicksilver intention. His blade enters then exits in one fluid motion, the widening left eye, of the poor Little Man.

The Assassin giggles high pitched and shrill.

-Your father sends regards to his poor wayward son.

The Little man makes no reply.

The Assassin wipes the blade of his knife on the shoulder of the dead Little Man’s rumpled black suit

He picks up the snifter and downs it at once. He kisses the blade of his knife and satisfied smiles.

-Thank you my dear, once again, for a job, fine and well done

He slides it back into his coat as he rises. He flips his hat on his head with a quick practiced motion, as he turns and walks out the door.

The Little Man offers no final farewells. He sits quite still in his chair. His cigarette still burns between cooling fingers.

A single drop of blood rolls down his cheek, like a tear.

 

 

Author's Note

W.I.P
Comments welcome and desired
Thanks

Reviews

[Scarlet]

Very scary! First I was like, that 'Little man' wants to kill his father, how mean! - but now I see why! There were a few spelling mistakes and some punctuation is missing, but maybe that is the style you were going for? It's an interesting read, and has a lot of promise :D I imagine this is a scene from the middle of a story on the Assassin, or a person hunting the Assassin... Keep up the good work!

[masqued_muse]

Hey, Scary...this is wonderful. For a minute it felt like I was watching a play. Totally entranced. Like Scarlet said it needs some fine tuning, but all in all it pulls the reader in and makes us squirm until the very end. I would so love to see this in a book!!