Torpedo

Everything was so perfect that afternoon. The weather consisted of a hot, bright sun that made many take out their expensive name brand sunglasses and cover their eyes. The ceremony was outside and the gentle breeze kept everyone in their fancy clothing cool. Now was the time to be serious. As the young man walked in between the seats towards the Priest, he had a smile that seemed permanent on him. His father a step behind him, his arms swaying gently as he walked, it was a picture perfect day. All he could do now was wait for his love…

The suitcase was surprisingly light, despite the contents it held. The sharp dressed man walked up the steps silently, his fingers gripping the handle to the carbon fiber briefcase tightly. Upon reaching the top he gently placed the case on the edge, holding it tightly still while he gauged the intensity of the wind. Finding no wind whatsoever, he opened the case and stared at the contents that rested silently in its red velvet casing. “Guten Tag…” He said quietly, staring down at the mix of Metal and Wood that he looked down at. “Let us get to work, partner.”

She’ll be here He thought. She had promised, there would be no delays, no running away, this was all supposed to go to plan- this plan was the perfect one, no way could it go wrong. He had dreamed of this day for so long, a perfect dream. They would have a baby boy and a baby girl, his new job would bring in enough money for that house by the riverside, the Porsche he always wanted, and most importantly to keep his family happy. He wouldn’t allow his family to struggle as he did, his kids to struggle as he did. Today would be the first step of many to solidifying his contribution to the world. He was going to marry this woman…

Odd how in some cities you have church in front of church, church down the street from church, church a block away from church. The low business stores offered no resistance to his line of sight to the church a city block away. The people in the Graveyard were specks to him as his hands moved in practiced and timed movement. He didn’t even try to squint to improve his eye sight; it was futile at over five hundred meters away. Looking down, he slammed the main part of his tool into the handle, and then placed the six round magazine in. Last to go on was the scope, and was placed with gentle care. He raised the butt of the W2000 Sniper Rifle to his left shoulder; his right eye winked shut and his left eye two inches away so that the rifle wouldn’t leave him a black eye.

He was impatient, deep down. He turned around slowly, very slowly, as not to attract too much attention. It was futile however; it was HIS wedding after all, everybody’s eyes would be on him. There were no whispers, which was strange. After turning he realized why everybody was silent. As his Fiancée walked towards him he noticed on her beautiful white wedding dress a color out of place. The red spec loomed over her breast ominously. As he mouthed her name, he couldn’t feel or hear his words leave from his throat. She stopped, and gave him a queer stare. Staring down at her chest, her eyebrows widened slightly, and her gaze turned back up to her husband to be. She mouthed something, and he struggled to read her lips…

With the weapon’s safety measures off, and his vision limitless from his post atop of the bell tower, the man brought his vision over to the Graveyard a block away. It was difficult to pick out whom was whom, everybody was dressed in solemn colors of dark gray and black, and everybody wore the same leather gloves that he did. Unfortunately, he wasn’t directly part of the funeral, but he knew deep down he would just be causing another one. Another family torn apart, more bills to pay, more tears to shed… For a moment, he paused from his movements and thought for a moment. Why did I think of monetary issues before the family issues…? This thought stayed his finger for a moment.

Oh my god…

When the bullet entered her, the entry wound was miniscule. When the bullet cleanly exited her and shattered glass of the church behind them, he realized that she was gone. There was a hole in her back bigger than anything he could have imagined. She didn’t drop to the floor, or stagger. She seemed to be blown back as if she was hit by a small vehicle. She skidded along the grass a moment, the water that rested on it from the early morning rain sliding her and mixing with her blood. She had no time to say any last words or look around, she was instantly dead. He looked to the back row where she had stopped, and two seats were empty… All the seats were full when we started… Who was there?! That was just one of the many thoughts that hit him at once. Everyone gasped in unison as he gripped his chest. He didn’t grip it out of pain or anger, out of fear or sadness- he gripped it to make sure his chest was still there. He felt nothing, nothing at all…

Clearing his throat, he began to whistle toe cliché wedding tune played on every organ. He cocked one of the .2000 Magnum rounds into the clean chamber, and gently placed the bi pod attached to the end of the rifle down. He was getting good, but not good enough to be firing standing up with no help. He knew who his target was, the one dressed in all black except for her white gloves, with the black covering her beautiful features. As he saw his own red dot appear on the side of her head, he was startled for a moment when her head turned to look up in his direction. Gulping slightly, he pulled the trigger.
The woman tripped and rolled over twice when her head was removed forcibly from her body. Blood spilt over the freshly placed grave of her husband. Instead of gasps, he heard even from his nest atop the clouds a screech of a young girl. Next followed the other women, and the other men stared blankly downwards at the decapitated body with their hands over their mouths.

The Hitman slipped a toothpick into his mouth and bit down hard- his way of relaxing, of calming down. Looking around he saw no hairs or fibers from his body. His suit was pressed and tidy, leaving nothing behind for the CSI to find. In under half a minute he was packed up and calmly walking down the stairs. He gripped his chest gently, checking once more… Still nothing. He concluded. With a gentle nod to himself, he exited the Cathedral and began his walk down the street.

Every few jobs were personal. It was one of the first rules never to make a job personal, but when the entire reason you were doing the job was for a personal reason that rule was thrown out the window. Every time he was higher than fifteen feet he tried to imagine his wedding from the sniper’s eyes. Unfortunately for Liam Maxwell it never happened. Funeral, after Funeral, after Funeral he visited, and kept the cycle flowing. Not the same Funeral for the same person, of course- each person knew each other through somebody else. In every one of his hide outs he had the web of people posted on a wall, only visible through black light. Hundreds of people attended his wedding, and one of them had to know the killer. So he drew them out, person by person by eliminating them. The face of the man that left was embedded in his mind, and the day he saw that face in his sights he would act. It had been five years since his Fiancée was murdered, and for five years he made his personal fortune by ruining the lives of others. He felt himself getting closer with every bullet fired, every neck cracked, and every bit of experience he gained with every job. It was a dark, manipulative world out there that he only added to in negative ways. His life died five years ago, and he’s only been working for death since.

At least, in his mildly psychotic mind.

The Police Tracker system in his vehicle began to blink, so he made a quick turn and parked his BMW into an alleyway, missing a trash can by inches. The police car drove by, and when the blinking above his rearview mirror stopped, only then did Liam reverse and begin driving once more. He turned on the radio, placing it onto the local Classic Rock radio station. He looked off to the side, staring down at the carbon fiber briefcase with a placid look. Without looking at the road he stopped when the light turned red and continued forward when it turned green. His attention once more went back to the road. It took a few minutes, but he was successfully on the highway going towards the airport.

**

“He…. Killed my wife.”
“So?”

So?

Two letters, one rhetorical question that could of kept on going. As he drove Liam didn’t really pay attention to anything on the road like any good driver should. So? He didn’t pay attention. So? He had picked up the bullet casing as he left, mildly burned his glove and finger. No matter, both the gloves and the casing were now down a sewer drain miles from the crime. He longed to see his wife again… Normal pale skin, green-brown eyes and a gentle smile. Her arms wrapped around his neck, staring into his eyes with her own half lidded, gentle, playful kisses everywhere they went. He gripped the steering wheel tightly as he dwelt on those thoughts. That bullet had blown a hole in her the size of a bowling ball- on HIS day. On HER day. On OUR DAY! He thought as he turned fiercely. The traction control made sure he didn’t drift, but the back end of his vehicle kicked out before adjusting. “CALM DOWN!” He yelled to himself. He made a quick stop into a gas station, exiting the vehicle and fumbling for a pack of small cigars from his coat pocket.

Biting down and lighting up were the two things he did best besides killing. His smoking habit was just a little fling he did at parties while out with his girlfriend. His girlfriend…
“It’s so silly to start a relationship now…”

He had laughed at that, when she told him that. He smiled a little as he sat on the hood of his car. He took in the toxic chemicals and exhaled them through the nose. “It sure was… But look at what came out of it, love.” He whispered. He held the cigar between his index and middle finger on his right hand, tipping it with his thumb to allow the ashes to fall…

The ashes fell off of the cigar, and seemed suspended in the air a moment before starting their slow, blissful beginning to their destination together. They floated, and the two large ashes parted often, only to come back together and form a large ash, together, as one. Right before they hit the pavement, the black and gray ashes parted and were blown in opposite directions, never to meet each other again.

Ever.

A tear leaked out of Liam’s right eye and dropped down his cheek at a rapid face, desperately clinging to his pale flesh, then dropping onto the floor, staining it with its saltiness. “Tears aren’t the only thing that’s salty… She had kidded. He couldn’t smile at that memory however. His lips became a placid, thin line. He paced back and forth along the side of his car, muttering quotes that she used to always say.
“Each puzzle has its own piece.” She had said, and he had recited. He took in another drag of his cigar, exhaling it quickly as he spoke. “All pieces eventually fall where they should.” He stopped, stared down at the half done cigar. He turned to face the brick wall of the apartment building beside the small Gas Station, and jammed the cigar into it in a fit of emotion. He dropped it, and kicked it. Luckily, it landed in the sewer… I’m slipping up. I got a flight to catch He pressed his cold palms into his eyes, rubbing them in vain as he circled around.

“You gonna buy something?”

“Who the FUCK are you?” Liam moved his palms to stare at a police officer, staring at him with a look that put Liam straight back into his character. “Jesus Christ Officer, I’m so sorry. Today has been one of the worst days- I mean, I just have enough money to get gas, and then I need to pick up my mother from the airport- cranky bitch. Not only that, it’s my anniversary on the same day, and she’s holding my bank card- so I can’t get her the perfume I promised, I was just having a quick smoke.” Liam gave a faked smile, and the cop exhaled slowly…
“Alright man. I know those kinda days. Just open your eyes and keep yourself looking up at the sky, its getting sunny out. I saw you take a bad turn and I was wondering if you were a high drug dealer or somethin’.” The Cop chuckled, Liam joined in quickly. “Alright man, apology accepted- just watch out and have a good day.”

As the cop began to walk away, Liam realized something and called out. “Wait, Officer!”
The Enforcer turned around with a quizzical look, and Liam called out in a soft voice, quite the opposite to his now gruff, blunt voice: “…Only after the storm can the flowers truly bloom.”
The officer smiled, and retorted “A single flower stands out more than two.”
“Ah, but three flowers makes the perfect gift.”
“Nobody likes a third wheel.”
“Officer, can I offer you a coffee?”
“Don’t see why not…”

**

“My wife told me that saying a while ago. I always have to say it when someone mentions sunshine. No flower can live without the sun.”
“Yes, but the flower requires nutrients from where it lives- the ground. Without the ground, the sun is useless. It also requires rain, and for rain to happen the sun needs to be blocked out- the sun is just a single element in that life of the flower. It needs it- but not all the time…”
“I W… I call her my Sunshine all the time. I guess I can look at myself as a flower, I don’t need her all the time, and I need other things too… Reminds me of high school.” Liam said as he raised his coffee to his lips, taking an intake of the caffeine in. The Officer gave a knowing nod and a point with his finger.
“You can compare it to high school, teenage love. The girlfriend or boyfriend is the sunshine. You need some rain, some problems- to keep life real. But you need the ground, your friends and family to keep you upright.” The Officer retorted.

Liam blinks, and stares down at the coffee slowly swirling. Everything seems to contrast and darken to insane levels. Those words ring through his head and seem to narrate his thoughts as he looks back to the wedding day. She is, was, his sunshine. He lost his sunshine and now he killed the suns of other families. Families who were friends with his families, who were friends with that family… that woman in the graveyard was mourning the man that Liam had killed last week. Liam blinks, and with every blink the world seems to get darker, and darker. He tries to gasp, feels no intake of air. That women he had killed had been his wife’s cousin, who in turn knew half the males at the wedding, and he knew it was two males that had left as his wife died. Liam goes to stand up, but his legs feel like lead. His hands begin to shake, and he grasps the coffee, and the hot feeling of coffee on his jeans awakes him to reality. He blinks, and sees the world in full color, the lenses of reality back on.

“You alright, Liam?”
“Sorry Officer… This day is killing me.”
“Speaking of killing...”
Liam froze, he rested his hand gently on what seemed to be the leg of the table, but he was geared towards his weapon. “I was signaled to be on the look out for a bunch of gang members. Turns out there was some kinda hit at a funeral, mafia thing. But that’s miles away and I haven’t heard anything about it. I hope they catch the bastards though… Killing somebody at a funeral, that’s sick.”
“You never knew why a person does something, only they do.” Liam concluded. “Officer I better to pick up my mother. Good to talk to you.” They got up, shook hands and parted their ways. As Liam left, a single bead of sweat rolled down his temple to get soaked into his shirt.

“I never had the best… relationship, with my mother. She would tell me every time, with every guy, I was wasting my life. The last thing I told her before I stopped talking to her was that ‘life is wasted on the living.’ She told me I had never been more right in my entire life…” She sighed, and her neck craned so she could get a view of her young mans face. He was staring off blankly, into the distance.
“Nobody has the right to dictate the course of another’s life.” He said after a pause. “Sunshine… I’m so happy.”

He parked the vehicle in its place, looked about on the leather seats- not a fiber. He picked up a single strand of hair, and as he left the vehicle with a rag over his hand, he flicked it out and down into the street. Being floors up on a multi-story car park had its advantages. He threw the rag off to the side, and shoved his hands into his pockets. It was cold in the damp, cement building. Despite the warm weather outside his breath could be seen. He fought shivers as he kept his eyes on his goal- the entrance to the airport.

“The one thing I do regret telling my mother that day was ‘I’ve never felt more happy with a man before.’ She got very… quiet after that. My mother was always… energetic. After I had used that word- happy, she just seemed to allow me to do what I wished in my final days in my home that I had grown up in…Even now, I feel like I killed her.”

“You didn’t mean to.” He whispered as the doors opened for him. He didn’t know who he killed specifically at the funeral over twelve hours ago. He knew they were important, and close to his wife’s side of the family. A cousin, aunt, a sister in law? It was dangerous; he would get questioned soon for sure. He took a seat facing the entrance to the airport, and watched in slight fascination at a plane touch down and then turned to allow passengers to become people again. It had been a flight from the city that their wedding was to be held, and Liam almost missed the mans face as he exited off of the plane, dressed in all black. I’ve done it! He thought a moment. I did it! I triggered something in that sonofabitch’s dead heart, and I have him! Disregarding his suitcase he had taken in with him, he rushed forwards, his head bent downward, his shoulders shrugged so his collar covered a portion of his face. Don’t slip up, don’t slip up!

“Liam… What the hell are you doing here.”
“W…What?”

The two were at a standoff outside, as Liam went to touch his shoulder The Man spun around to stare the man down. “I haven’t seen you in five years… I wish it could have been longer.” The Man said. Liam was seething with a mix of emotions, and he was just about ready to snap the mans neck, right then and there. “Not since your ex-girlfriends wedding, anyways…”

“…What?”

“I’m sorry, Liam…”
“For what?” Liam had responded quietly. It was a legitimate question, and he wanted an answer.
“For… Everything.” She had said before closing the door softly. Liam stared down at the empty space of their condo… His, condo. She had taken most of the possessions, as they were hers. She had met another man, a very talented man. Liam’s job paid all the bills, got them all the toys and essentials, and even a vacation in the summer! But this one… He showed so much more promise than him. He had a studio where she could do whatever she wanted to her talented hearts content. He sat on the love seat she had left. He placed his hand where she had just sat, and it already felt so cold… So cold.

“…Ex girlfriend… She…?”
Suddenly, it all made sense. The human mind was able to trick itself into believing anything, given the dedication. Of course, she had rushed out of his arms and into the others. The more popular, prominent male that was great at the parties and greater in the house… All those years he had used his amateur profession as hired killer to get enough money to support her and himself. He tried to hard to help her, to inspire her, to love her…
“Jesus Christ man… Look, my niece just died- she was at the wedding too. Her husband just died, for god’s sake. Killed at her OWN FUNERAL! I don’t need to see you cry, I don’t want to, or need to spare you an ounce of pity. Good-bye, Liam.” The Man walked off at a brisk pace.

“A friend of mine who went from cadets to the military got me this- They’re the rarest, and super expensive. He picked it up for over… Well, too much. This is for our six month- you’ve done so much for me, so this is just a little something…”

Carbon fiber briefcase, W2000 sniper rifle, fully polished and used only once. After he had picked up that weapon his hits became more frequent, for more money. He was getting greedy- too greedy. He was about to buy a Porsche, he was going to buy them both a house on the riverside… he was going to propose all in that one, perfect day… His day. Her day. “Our day…” He whispered, as the alarm system turned red. Guns were pulled as the W2000 was caught. “You… Ruined our day. Why would you ruin me like that?” He asked. As he slipped slowly and calmly out of his wallet the registration papers to the rifle, and the ownership, his hand shook gently. Liam… A .2000 Magnum round is probably lodged in the floor, being picked up by the CSI right now. You have a rifle being inspected that fires that exact round. Are you insane? Do or die, Liam! “If you want, I’ll ship it. I really don’t have the time to go through all the paperwork, ma’am.” Liam said calmly. As the metal detector detected his watch, he unclicked it and dropped it. “I need to get this flight, really.”
“You weren’t paying attention, so you’re gonna pay.” The guard said as she gestured to the security office. “We need to talk to you about a recent event…”

Liam flashed ten thousand dollars in front of the woman, and his eyes began to leak with tears. “You take this, you toss the briefcase into your lock up, I leave and you’ll never see me on your shift again. You take me in there, and make me sort out papers; a young lady is going to be very, very sad…”
The guard peered over Liam’s shoulder to stare at the crowd that had gathered. With a sigh she took the bills with a quick motion. “Put the suitcase on, but take his ammo. Have a good flight.”
“Thank you.” Liam whispered. Before he could dry his eyes he bolted onto the plane, carbon fiber briefcase being stored along with the other luggage.

ow can I tell her? How could I tell her? How could I tell her that the condo was bought with dirty money? He stared out the window as he thought. Everything he had ever bought while with her was bought with the money that was made killing other people. The Porsche was ready to be driven home, the ring was in his pocket, and he had just reserved looking at the house, and had the plans to propose right then and there. Walking into that condominium that morning caused a surge of emotions to implode the logic circuit in his brain. For the past five years, he had tricked himself into seeing out of the other mans eyes. He thought that wedding was his, those friends were his… That was why they seemed so foreign. He remembered it all now.

His tie blew in a sudden gust of wind, blowing it up and over his right shoulder. Quickly undoing the locks of the suitcase he stared down at the velvet interior that showed off his half year anniversary gift. He was an avid gun collector, and with only 72 of that model made, it was keeper. Something to be assembled and placed on a wall, never to be touched again. Liam placed the scope on and his vision magnified. He aimed it towards the tall, shaved, sharp dressed man that awaited his love. His finger was ready to snap back and blow his arm off… But that would just be gruesome. He pivoted a little, the bipod leaving a little scratch on the cathedral. The laser dotted her chest, and when she looked down- he paused when she looked up in his direction. She mouthed something, but he couldn’t quite read her lips. She turned her head to face her fiancée, and as she repeated the words, he caught them… And his finger caught the trigger. She flew back as if hit by a small vehicle, and it was from that moment on that he felt nothing.

Nothing at all.

“Poor bastard only saw her lips move once…” He said to himself while the stewardess poured new coffee into his cup. It was his fifth, and still he asked for more. “He never really found out what she said…”

She had said, “This was my day… my day.”

It is said that the mark of a foolish man is one whom is willing to die for a noble cause. While on the other hand, the mark of a mature man is one whom wishes to live humbly for one. He lived to kill others in his own, self righteous cause by what he finally admitted to be… Rash. Just rash. “How selfish I really am.” He said as he dropped the four cubes of sugar into the cup, and picked up the small pitcher of milk to pour tablespoons worth in. I… killed my ‘girlfriend’ He concluded once more, after five years… …So?
He brought the coffee up to his lips, and sipped it. “I just work for death, now.”
At least, in his mildly psychotic mind.