Writing It's Just Business

[silpheedpilot]

[SIZE="1"][COLOR="SlateGray"][RIGHT][B]WARNING:[/B] Language and adult themes[/RIGHT]

[I]Here is a little something that I whipped up here at work the other day[/I]. -- [I][B]silpheedpilot[/B][/I]



"It's just business.", I toyed with that phrase in the recesses of my mind for a moment.

It's just business. A common phrase that two parties can use when they mean to keep personal affairs out of professional work. A CEO of a large company would say that to a colleague after royally fucking him out of a multi-million dollar deal. Some thug would say it to another thug he was pistol whipping over a busted drug deal. You're fired from a job and your boss, who is your off-of-work friend, tells you "It's just business." are just a few ways to use such a grand ol' phrase.

"You know what? I hate that goddamn phrase.", I seemingly thought aloud as I discharged two rounds from my suppressed .45 caliber into some poor asshole's chest.

I guess I should tell you I'm a hired hitman, an assassin, cut-throat, or whatever you want to call me in any language you can speak. I should also tell you that gaining entrance into my target's hotel room was far too easy. Obviously, as easy as grabbing a master keycard from the front desk after a quick diversionary tactic can be. Again, easily enough I made my way up here into the room with a slight swipe of a card and knee-capped my quarry so he couldn't run but before I killed him I made damn sure he knew it was 'just business'.

As I stepped outside the city itself came rushing to my senses. The sound of traffic, the smell of the bustling and busy metropolis and the dry summer air. The sun was shining so brightly I thought it would burn my retinas. It was a good day for a killing. I hailed a cab.

When I got in the taxi cab I instinctively drew my weapon, this time unsilenced, and pressed it to the cabbie's head.

"Anything you hear, you forget. You didn't see my face you don't remember what I sound like. If I even think that someone has sniffed me out, I'm coming for you. So, do we have an accord?", I pressed the gun harder into the cab driver's skull to illustrate my point.

Of course the cabbie just nodded his head, albeit a little spastic, and said; "W-where are you headed?". Ah yes. Cooperation.

"Away from here. I'll tell you when to stop.", I said while slowly pulling the gun away. I then sat back let myself enter the padded room tucked far away in my mind.

I'm in pearl white bathroom and I'm at the sink. I gaze into the mirror at my own features and I see a monster. Others see a white male in his mid to late twenties with brown hair teased up with gel and striking features including bright blue eyes and a strong jawline. Vanity is it's own reward.

Anyway, I see a monster. You pay this monster money and he ends others lives. Not only does this monster end lives, he enjoys it. Revels in it, decides when days are ripe for a killing. This monster has a mind-only ritual after every kill.

I push on the mirror and it swings open to reveal, from top to bottom, bottles of pills. I systematically open a bottle and place one pill into my mouth, swallow, and repeat the process until I've taken a pill from every pill bottle in the cabinet. Am I crazy for popping pills in my mind? Does it prove that I'm insane? Or maybe this keeps me sane instead. Who knows? What I do know is that it calms my nerves on the outside world and keeps me from cracking skulls left and right. I close the mirror and gaze into it. I see a monster.

I come to my senses and the whole process in my head took less than 30 seconds of real-time, though it felt like hours. I remember I need to call in my kill so I retrieve a black cellphone from my pocket and I flip it open with my thumb. Like a phone from some spy movie it's on a private, secure, and untracable network that links me directly to my employers. It's kind of bullshit and I don't understand how anyone can get away with it but who am I question technology and more importantly those who employ me? I dial a few numbers on the keypad and I bring the phone to my ear.

"Status.", a silky smooth female voice says on the other end.

"Yeah. It's done.", I say and then I add with a little humor in my voice, "Want to go to dinner sometime?"

"Over and out.", the voice replied to me, irritated.

I clasp the phone close and stuff it back in my pocket. With a sigh I settle back in my seat and just enjoy the ride some.[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[Vicky]

[size=1]I liked it.

The first part (namely the first paragraph) is quite misleading and I was expecting something to do with businesses, paperwork and all that jazz (only with a slightly more interesting twist). Although, the whole hitman/spy thing seemed like a professional business anyway, only with a darker twist to it (if that makes any sense).

It's more gritty than most hitman or spy pieces people come up with; often you find they have millions of gadgets and spend paragraphs upon paragraphs explaining how they work. I like the hitman in this because he doesn't seem like the average hitman smart-arse and sounds a lot more down-to-earth, especially with the way it's written in his point of view. I found it quite easy to follow his trail of thought, too.

Very nice work. Flows really well, too.

I think the only criticism I have would be that, at the end of each speech mark (or most) you have a fullstop, or a comma.

[Quote=silpheedpilot]"W-where are you headed?"[b].[/b]

"Status."[b],[/b][/quote]

That might just be your style though. I wouldn't want to be throwing around any rules, because I don't actually [i]know[/i] the rules for speech, but it normally looks better if you don't put anything after the speech marks because you've already got punctuation beforehand. I'm not sure about this; that's just my two-cents, probably better off asking an English buff, heh.

Nice piece of work though.[/size]