Paul was sitting in front of a gas station behind the wheel of his lavender-metallic 1990 Lexus LS400. The assassin tried to figure out how he would dispose of a dead body, which he placed in the trunk of his sedan.
It was ten o’clock in the morning, and right now Paul was getting ready to get out of his car to grab a cup of coffee. He had a slight hangover, and he needed something to wake him up. He was sitting inside his car, listening to Dr. Dre and Eminem, and trying to decide on the right time to get his latte.
Paul hated crowded public places. He didn’t want to get out of his car to get his coffee because of all the people he saw marching in and out of the convenience store. Paul wanted his coffee, so he tried to ignore dealing with a store full of customers. As Paul sat in his car watching people walk in and out of the gas station, he could feel a female presence lurking inside him. He couldn’t stop the presence from taking over his voice.
“You moron!” The voice of Christina abruptly came forth out of Paul’s mouth. “What’s the matter, moron? You’re too scared to get a cup of coffee?” Christina teased Paul. The female alter-ego’s voice wreaked of animosity and sarcasm.
“I’ll get my coffee, bitch. In the meantime, why don’t you try shutting the hell up,” Paul whipped back at Christina after taking a puff off his cigarette.
“You’re an assassin who’s too afraid to get a cup of coffee. That’s hilarious.” Christina giggled a little.
“Shut up!” Paul came in quick on Christina. “Maybe I should get my gun out of the glove compartment and shoot myself in the mouth. At least I’ll shut you up.” Paul threatened Christina, hoping his threat would stop her from talking, but it didn’t work.
“You killed a mother, and you put her body in the trunk of your f#cking car! Nancy was a mom like me. Now her baby has to grow up without his mom because you killed her!” Christina’s mouth was on fire and she wanted to burn Paul with her rebuking words. “How can you live with yourself? How can you live knowing that a little boy will wonder why his mom disappeared one night? Nancy’s child will live out the rest of his life without his mom. Eventually, the poor baby will find out how you killed his mother!”
“Yeah, who gives a f#ck!” Paul roared suddenly, cutting off Christina’s ranting. “Listen to me, I want you to shut the hell up or I’m going to get my gun out of the glove compartment and shoot myself in the head. I’ll shoot us in the head if you don’t stop talking. You hear me, bitch!?” There was an intense silence after Paul threatened Christina again. Paul thought Christina had gone away after he threatened her. He waited to hear Christina speak, and a minute went past before she gave her last word.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Christina spoke again through her soft tone of voice. “I want you to blow your f#cking brains out! I don’t care if you kill us! They’ll be one less motherf#cker in the world!” Christina gave her last word to Paul. The young woman’s sweet and strong voice disappeared like a sunset.
Paul became relieved after he felt Christina’s presence depart from him. It felt like a demon possession whenever Christina would arrive. Paul knew his female alter ego would return, and he didn’t want to think about his next confrontation with her. It only took a minute for Paul to step out of his Lexus. The hitman stepped out of his car while cracking his knuckles, which was something he did whenever he would get irritated about something. The arguments he would have with Christina would irritate him every single time. Walking into a convenience store full of customers also added to Paul’s anxiety.
After adjusting the collar of his black suit jacket, the transgender hitman shut the door of his car behind him. He used his pierced tongue to put out his lit cigarette before flicking it down on the ground.
Paul loved putting his cigarette butts out on his tongue ring. He enjoyed the pain. Paul wished he could kill someone now. While he was walking toward the convenience store’s front entrance, he fantasized about killing every man and woman customer inside the store. Paul’s hangover caused him to become extra bloodthirsty.
*Please tell me that this gentleman didn’t just spill coffee all over my brand new suit*. Paul thought in his head as he looked down at the huge coffee stain that covered the whole front part of his black suit jacket. Paul tried to be nice by holding the door open for an elderly man. After holding the door open for the old man, Paul made his way into the convenience store, running straight into a young man who was holding two cups of Starbucks vanilla iced lattes.
“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry!” The man almost went into a panic as he apologized to Paul. The man’s name was Gregg, and Gregg tried to use a wad of paper napkins he had in his other hand to see if he could wipe off the coffee on Paul’s suit jacket.
“It’s okay. It was an accident, don’t worry about it,” Paul told Gregg through his soft-spoken voice and his warm Texas drawl. He gave the man a gentle smile. Paul studied Gregg’s bright red beard and his military crew cut. He studied the man’s eyeglasses and a tattoo on the man’s left arm that said, I love my wife and daughter.
“Please forgive me for being such an idiot and not watching where I was going. Your suit looked so nice on you and I ruined it.” Gregg was rubbing on Paul’s shoulder and he almost sounded like he was getting ready to cry. The man scrubbed and rubbed all over Paul’s suit jacket like a mother washing her child in a bathtub. Gregg felt embarrassed, and he still couldn’t believe he was such a klutz.
“I told you it’s okay. I have plenty of these suits at home,” Paul told Gregg, trying to calm him down.
“What happened, Daddy?” A little girl’s voice appeared out of nowhere, right behind Paul. Paul turned and looked down to see a curly red-haired and blue-eyed little doll who looked like she was a five-year-old miniature supermodel.
“Daddy made a mess, honey. He spilled coffee all over this poor man’s clothes,” Gregg told his little girl who came and stood beside him while looking up at Paul and sucking on her tiny fingers.
Paul smiled down at the little girl and he watched as the little girl smiled back at him. While gazing down at the child, Paul could feel Christina’s maternal instincts trying to kick in. He could feel Christina wanting to hold the little girl in her arms, but he ignored his female alter-ego’s motherly desires.
“I’m so glad I didn’t spill hot coffee on you. I’ve got to watch where I’m going next time.” Gregg’s voice was full of guilt, even though he was laughing. “I’m so sorry. I feel like I’ve ruined your day. I came here to get coffee for me and my wife and I ended up spilling coffee all over you.” Gregg put his hand up to his forehead, feeling ashamed for what he did. The kind-hearted man reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.
“You don’t have to do that.” Paul stopped Gregg from pulling out a one-hundred-dollar bill. He pushed the money away when Gregg tried to hand it to him.
“Please let me give you this. I ruined your jacket and giving you this money will make me feel a little better,” Gregg told Paul while still trying to force a hundred-dollar bill into the killer’s hand.
“I don’t want your money. Instead, why not let me buy you more coffee?” Paul’s voice was full of warmth and gentleness. The killer wanted to offer a nice service to Gregg. He tried to ignore feeling enraged over the fact that Gregg ruined his black tailor-made suit.
“You’re gonna buy me and my wife more coffee after I spilled coffee all over you? My God, you’re so kind,” Gregg told Paul while resting his hand on the man’s arm.
“Let me go buy you more vanilla iced lattes. That is the coffee you had, right?” Paul asked, feeling uncomfortable over Gregg’s hand caressing his arm.
“Yes, that’s right. That’s the coffee I had.” Gregg giggled while answering Paul and giving the killer a soft gaze. “I appreciate you buying me more coffee. You’re so nice for doing this,” Gregg told Paul while still caressing the assassin’s arm. Gregg bent down to pick up his daughter while watching Paul turn and walk toward the mini Starbucks cafe, which was over on the far left side of the convenience store. “You see that, honey? Now that’s a nice guy. He’s buying your mommy and daddy more coffee,” Gregg whispered to his daughter while pointing across the way at Paul.
“He’s a nice guy like Daddy.” Gregg’s daughter, Samantha, mumbled through her little, soft voice. The child giggled while making herself comfortable in her daddy’s arms. The child waved at Paul, who was waving back at Samantha and her father near the Starbucks service counter.
Amy held her son in her arms. She stepped through her front door to see two men in black militia uniforms standing in her living room. The men were mountainous, resembling two dark towers standing beside her sofa. They had machine guns strapped to their chests, and skull masks kept their faces concealed. Amy didn’t expect this. She didn’t expect one man to snatch her son out of her arms. There was a fight in Amy’s living room. Amy punched and kicked at the man who tried to take her baby. She saw the soldier’s handgun, but she didn’t give a damn about getting shot. Amy snatched the mask off the man’s face. She kept punching the man until she fractured his nose. A bullet grazed her arm, but she kept brawling with the man. The adrenaline racing through the mother’s veins gave her the strength to crush the soldier’s throat with her fist. Amy used to be a mixed martial arts fighter. All of her training came back to her after the soldier assassin attempted to snatch her ch
Amy knew that the man who shot her husband was a white supremacist. She knew the killer targeted her husband because he was black. Amy thought about how the man never apologized to her in the courtroom for what he did. Instead, he told Amy, the judge, and the jury, that his gun went off by accident. He said he didn’t shoot Bryan on purpose. Amy thought about how the man said that Bryan killed himself by grabbing his gun. Her blood boiled when the disgraced police officer looked at her and said that her husband didn’t suffer. He told Amy that her husband died instantly, which he thought would give her a peace of mind. Amy became enraged, and she ran so fast toward the disgraced policeman that the bailiff couldn’t grab her. The disgraced police officer slowly stood up and folded his arms when he saw Amy charging toward him. He saw Amy as being a harmless, young, and beautiful woman who wouldn't be able to handle a man twice her size. Amy thought about how she w
Amy thought about her husband again while she was driving. It was the only thing that kept her from panicking. She thought about when she first met Bryan at a local grocery store and how she did something terrible to her future husband. She struck Bryan on the heel of his foot on purpose with her shopping cart to get his attention. Amy felt like a stalker for following Bryan all around the store before she tapped him with her shopping cart. She saw a strapping, handsome man walking around the store, still wearing his white paramedic uniform. Bryan was gorgeous on the outside, but there was something on the inside that also attracted Amy. She could see a gentleness radiating through his crystal brown eyes. He was sexy and was as big as a pro football player, but he had alluringly gentle eyes. Amy would often fantasize about looking up into those eyes. She would fantasize about making love to her husband again. Every night she would wear a silver negligee that Bryan bo
“Come on, Pac, I know you can hit me harder than that! You hit like a pussy!” Mark trash-talked the robot as he struggled to use his suit’s mechanical strength to block 2Pac’s hammering blows. Mark got 2Pac off of him when he blasted the cybernetic man in the face with his machine gun. Sparks flew from 2Pac’s face and chest from the hot white energy emerging from the machine gun. Mark returned the favor by running toward 2Pac and ramming his body into him. He used all the thrust power in his suit to tackle 2Pac. Mark and the metal man went through a concrete wall that led to another section of the simulated nightclub. He threw down his fist on 2Pac’s metal jawline after the dust cleared from going through the concrete wall. “You think you’re the only one who can throw down!?” Mark roared down at 2Pac while nailing his opponent repeatedly in the face. At first, Mark had the advantage, but things went downhill when 2Pac clamped a small hexagon-shaped device on
This was how 2Pac killed most of his victims. He would do it efficiently and cleanly so that the prisoners wouldn’t suffer. The fighting tournaments were planned for elaborate executions and 2Pac was Princess Death Row’s executioner. Disguising an execution as a fighting tournament gave a lot of prisoners false hope, thinking they could fight their way to freedom. Mark was one of many. Out of all the deaths, Mark’s death was the cleanest. After executing Mark, 2Pac recorded the decapitation and stored it in his memory cloud database. He kept other recordings of sinister executions in his database. After 2Pac killed Mark, the simulated young partygoers and the nightclub setting inside the stadium-sized room shut down like a smartphone screen being turned off. The Virtual Materialization Simulator’s four massive white walls returned, and the millions of tiny 3D printer lasers retracted back into the walls like a power antenna on an old 1980s Cadillac. A silence echoed
Amy had regrets. All she wanted was to hold her baby again, and she was mad at herself for not protecting him. Amy remembered how she contemplated suicide after having a miscarriage. She assumed she would never have another baby. She felt too ashamed to tell her husband that attempting to kill herself in the living room of their home wasn’t the only time she tried to take her own life. Guilt consumed Amy when she thought back on the night she tried to shoot herself and threatened to shoot her husband if he tried to stop her. Amy admitted she had problems before she became pregnant with Omar. But it seemed like when she found out she was pregnant again, everything in her life felt like it was changing for the better. It was like giving birth to a cherub when Amy saw Omar coming out of her womb and heard him crying for the first time. She would never forget how Omar looked up at her after the nurse placed his tiny body in her arms. He didn’t cry that much. Looking into her bab
It was eight o’clock at night. Gregg, his wife Patricia, and their little girl Samantha were all eating dinner at the dining room table. While Gregg was enjoying his dinner with his wife and daughter, he was telling them how terrible he still felt over spilling coffee on a man earlier in the day. “I felt so bad after running into that man and spilling coffee all over his beautiful suit,” Gregg told his wife while shaking his head and laughing a little. It was embarrassing, but a little funny that Gregg couldn’t stop beating himself up over spilling coffee on a person. It was an accident that most normal people could move on from. Gregg couldn’t move on from the accident because he injured a woman’s baby years ago and wanted to forget about it. Gregg’s wife didn’t know this. “You have got to stop talking about this. It was an accident. You spilled coffee on somebody this morning. It’s not like you killed them!” Gregg’s wife Patricia spoke to her husband while laughing
A few seconds was all it took for the bomb to detonate. It was a blast that turned the house’s living room into a fiery mass of rubble. What used to be a coffee table, a leather sofa, and a flat-screen television set, was now burning pieces of debris that covered the ground where segments of the living room’s hardwood floor used to be. Gregg’s ears were ringing. The ringing in his ears was so loud that he couldn’t hear his daughter crying. He could barely see her through a sea of smoke. Gregg coughed up his lungs and could see through the smoke that he no longer had a living room. He could also see a dark figure in the distance, walking through the fiery rubble that used to be the front part of his house. Gregg looked around to see that his little girl was right beside him. He could see tiny streams of blood leaking out of her ears. When Gregg saw drops of blood coming out of his daughter’s ears, he knew the sound of the blast damaged her eardrums. Even though his pr