The Hitman and His Consort

XXXVIII - Demonstration

First Person P.O.V: VALENTIN HACKSAW

“Excuse me?” the woman breathed out, along with her subtle sobs when I insulted her child.

“I said your kid is ugly,” I repeated,

“Wha—“

“More importantly,” I began, cutting her off as we progressed to the actual plan, “Tell us what you know, Roxon,” I said, turning to the man, he still looked like a thug but you could tell he mellowed out,

Madeline handed his phone to Roxon so he could scroll and inspect at his own pace, and after a few swipes, he paused and handed showed us the picture of the blonde with the buzz-cut, his face confused and conflicted.

“This guy… this guy is dead,” he announced,

Madeline and I turned to each other, and I shrugged, ‘One less target,’ I thought and he sighed as if he read my thoughts, we kept our silence and waited for Roxon’s info on the rest, it took a bit but he raised the phone again and showed us the picture of the freckles guy.

“Why is this here?” he asked,

“My questions exactly, do you know him?” I asked back, and he nodded,

“This is the guy that runs a coffee shop next to the town library,” he replied and I hummed, and I turned to Madeline again,

“What do you know about him other than he’s a total loser?” I asked, and the man grimaced at me before clearing his throat and answering,

“I… I know practically nothing, he’s a bit on the weird side, definitely looks like a guy who does some shady gigs here and there,” he answered and I nodded.

“Any others?”

“I don’t know anyone else,”

“Right,” I noted. Roxon handed the phone back to Madeline, who nodded at me, saying that he’s ready to leave and move on to the next. That’s probably for the best. If I hear this man say ‘I know nothing’ again I’ll be making sure he’ll live up to that from this day onwards.

I handed the child back to its mother, “I-Is that it?” Roxon asked as we made our way to the door,

“Do you want more?” I asked back, and he remained silent as he glared daggers at me, “That’s what I thought, farewell Roxon,” I said as we finally left the building, I turned to Madeline who’s surveying the picture of our lanky freckled friend.

“I feel like we should head to this guy next,” he said, and I nodded. It sounds childish, but it happened so many times you’d be one strong-willed heathen to not trust the coincidence and routes a search will take to unravel itself on its own.

Plus, it's progress.

We drove and headed to our next destination, a coffee shop next to the city’s library. I checked the time: 10:46PM. Are you f*cking kidding me? It’ll be closed by now. Damn it, I wanted to try trashing a coffee shop just once. I was somewhat looking forward to it,

“Sh*t, that coffee shop would be closed by now, what are we gonna do? Should we go to his house instead?” Madeline said, materializing my thoughts, and I nodded to affirm his suggestion. This whole thing is not as fun as I thought it would be. Then again, I wouldn’t exactly label the intent behind this mission as something that was made in pursuit of entertainment.

But I did realize how commendable Inka's skills are. My guess is that she already did profiling and background checks on these guys and occasionally updates it. She’d prepared this information too fast to be something done on the fly.

We drove to the next house. Something tells me this next person will drag us on longer than Roxon, I don’t even know his name, “Madeline, what’s the name of this next guy?” I asked, and he hummed as he flipped through the notebook like some glorified secretary,

“Yeah, this one is… James-No, sorry, it's Jamsey Peele,” he replied, and I shrugged. A bland name for a bland guy. There’s no telling what kind of person they are, but Inka also gave us a quick remark about this guy being annoying with projecting. Not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but I’ll be sure not to have any positive expectations about it.

We arrived at the place, an apartment. Looks like this man is more well off than Roxon. The coffee shop must be pulling quite the cash to have him live in this kind of place. Looks nice from the outside, it even had the lettering of the house number in gold plating.

“This guy got cash, huh?”

“You want to rob him too?”

“Wha… You know it’s not robbing if he gave it to us of his own free will,” he said, taking a pause to weasel himself out of negative lighting. Why bother? I wouldn’t judge him if he said yes. I did the same thing for more than I can count.

I parked the car close by and went ahead to know on that guy’s front door. After a minute there was nothing, so I knocked again. Madeline looked around before taking my spot and knocked harder than I did. I appreciate the sense of urgency, but he better think for a second whether he’ll want to shove me again in the future.

We finally heard footsteps towards the door, but this guy must’ve looked at the peephole instead.

“How may I help you?” He asked from the other side of the door,

His voice was slightly muffled but coherent nonetheless, “We just need you to answer a few questions about the neighborhood,” I replied. Maybe the investigator farce would work a second time.

“Can I answer them like this?” he replied, and Madeline visibly clenched his fist. No worries though, I shared his sentiments enough that I kicked the doorknob off and rendered its security functions useless. It’s a caveman approach but I’m working with an undefined timeframe and it’s probably shorter than I think it is.

Madeline didn’t waver and lunged at the door to force it open and the guy was pushed to the floor, props to him though since he managed to get on his feet fairly quickly, I tried to close the door to some extent while Madeline started attacking the guy again. Like it was a predetermined gameplay between the two of us on this mission.

As such, as they grappled each other on the ground I waited for Madeline to gain the upper hand, but it seems there is more to this lanky guy than just his freckles. He seems well versed in jiujutsu, he’s holding out pretty well,

“Should I help?” I asked Madeline as he struggled on the floor against our target, his neck beginning to get wrapped around the target’s head.

“Oh, g-gee, that would be—sh*t—that would be nice! B-But don’t strain yourself, buddy!” he replied, cursing as he dealt with the target, obviously being sarcastic. The petty side of me wanted to not help as he suggested,

I could respond with something along the lines of “Yeah, besides it looks like you got everything under wraps anyways,” but no, it’s not the time.

I drew my gun again and pointed it at the man, “Let the poor thing go, Jamsey,” I ordered and Madeline despite slowly losing oxygen, instead of using his hands to get out of the lock he’s in, used his left hand to flip me off.

Look at the regard and adoration this man has for me, would rather respond to my words at the expense of his safety.

‘I should bring this up later, that'll piss him off,’

The target paused and loosened his grip on Madeline; I hummed, but only a second later he materialized, a little switchblade in his hand, and pressed it to Madeline’s neck.

“Oh sh*t,” Madeline cursed once he noticed,

“First time seeing close-up magic?” I asked him before shooting Jamsey at his kneecaps without warning, giving Madeline enough time and opening to detangle himself from Jamsey and turned the situation around.

Jamsey was screaming profanities while that happened too. Sometimes I forget that those things are notable until it starts banging on my eardrums. Madeline, perhaps showing gratitude for saving his ass, jumped on top of this loud Pixar character knock-off and covered his mouth, taking the switchblade the Jamsey dropped when I shot him and aimed the blade at Jamsey’s eyes.

“You won’t be using that leg no more, want to add an eye to go with it? Channel your inner pirate?” Madeline asked as he removed his hand from Jamsey’s mouth and wrapped it around the latter’s neck instead, “Answer, where the f*ck is Arthur?” Madeline asked and Jamsey groaned out loud, a mix of frustration and pain.

“F*cking hell, please—I’m so sick of hearing that name! I’m over her! I’ll never touch her ever again! I swear! I’m done! I don’t even like her that much!” he started yelling as he groaned,

“You son of a b*tch, why not!? My sister’s a f*cking catch!” Madeline countered. Now I’m lost. What is this? He’s acting like a madman. Then again, Madeline is not someone I’d label as sane at first glance.

“Please spare of all this sh*t—we already broke up for a year! I already agreed with your terms, man! There’s nothing between us now, I swear please just let me go, she’s all yours!” he exclaimed.

‘…what the hell is this about?’

“The hell are you whining about?” I asked as I crouched down, whose terms did he abide by? Not mine certainly, then again, this feels like it’s a déjà vu for him. He looked at me up and down, his breathing ragged and jaw clenched,

“Julian, he sent you, didn’t he? Tell him that I was just checking up on her, I didn’t even contact her man, I just looked at her picture once and—“

“Breathe, speak slowly, and elaborate,” I instructed, and he begrudgingly obliged. That is after eyeing us up and making prolonged eye contact with Madeline that the latter didn’t even mind, he just returned the stare just as intensely. Everything has to be emotional and passionate with this guy. I give up.

“You look like her… why do you look like her? What is this?” He asked in complete obliviousness, finally taking focus on what’s happening and who we are,

“This is Arthur’s brother, I’m Arthur’s audience, we’re here to take Arthur back,” I explained in the simplest group of words I could muster to summarize the event and he hissed,

In pain probably, because it would be the wrong choice to give me a f*cking attitude.

“Well…” he began with a creepy smile and an air of smugness that he shouldn't even have in response to the current situation, “I guess Julian finally got a hold of her, I wouldn’t blame him, she’s a good home décor once you’ve dressed her up real nice,” he said looking between the two of us, “If you're not here in place of old Jules, there’s no point for you two to play good cop-bad cop with me, I’ve had worse,” he said with a light chuckled, probably starting to lose logic along with blood,

‘Okay, the patience is officially drained,’

I gestured at Madeline to get off the target and handed him my gun. I bent on one knee and gave him a long hard stare, I’m going to take Madeline’s preposition from earlier. It’s such a shame too, I heard that people who lose an eye will have trouble with depth perception, some probably get used to it, and with a willful little lad like Jamsey over here, he’ll be all good in no time.

‘Tsk, I should’ve worn gloves,’

“…Val, what are you—?” Madeline was about to ask, but instead of answering I suppose a demonstration would be more effective, so I gestured at him to watch as I gauged out Jamsey’s left eye, it got a little crushed but with a little help from my trusty knife, I managed to hold his little eyeball on my hand.

He was yelling frantically as he clutched his now empty left eye socket, “You probably got the labels wrong with that good cop-bad cop Jamsey,” I began over the loud crying and agonized groans, and a little ‘oh f*ck’ I heard from Madeline,

I turned the eyeball towards Jamsey, now with a completely different expression from earlier as I erased the misplaced cockiness he had, “But at least now, we’re able to see eye to eyes, and to tell you the truth, I’m a good listener,” I added before giving him a nod and a smile,

“So feel free to talk, preferably now,” I finished, and with vigorous nodding and a gulp, I know that I’ll be hearing just what I needed to hear,