I've killed myself - I'm feeling far too paranoid and jumpy to enjoy playing anymore. Just thought you should all know.
Phoenix steps out of his broken down Nissan Micra, and lets a thin stream of cigarette smoke escape his limps. He eases himself to a standing possition, wincing at the effort. Once a skilled, deadly, freared assasin, the new 'honest' job on the police force has made him untidy, fat and wearly, lije most police officers.
He rubs his 5 day old stubble as he reaches the door to the appartment block. His red rimmed eyes glance around nervously. With all the dodgy dealing and backhanded tactics of the police force, paranoia is Phoenix's new best freind.
He turns the corner and spots his next door neighbour, Tom the 'rock star', who has a habit of waking Phoenix up with the vibratons from his base guitar. After all, Phoenix needs what little sleep he can get. Tom is talking to someone, someone who is conceiled in shadow.
Perhaps it is a little part of Phoenix's old self returning, some of that old killer instinct, but he knows instantly what this stranger is doing here. He can almost smell the stench of death on the guy. Perhaps it is another part of Phoenix which snaps. Maybe it was the mundane life of a police officer, mixed wih the constant threat of lunitic wanted assassins like this one, or maybe it was just the weight of a thousand dead people on his shoulders, but Phoenix suddenly realised that it was his time to go. Better to die here with the memory of the great assassin Phoenix still in his mind.
Wether or not the assassin saw Phoenix's sick and relieved smile as he fired, Phoenix didn't know, but as the bullets sink into him and tear into his flesh, his life flashes before his eyes. It has been a long time since the great days of Corpus Hostium, but those great times really were great.
Phoenix's consiousness begins to fade, and his vision goes blurry, but he realses there is a look of pain on the others assassin's face, and he too drops to the ground.
The last thing Phoenix sees is Police officer's Mu and Bun Bun, the two remaining Corpus Hostium assassins, standing over him. As Phoenix drifts into oblivion his last thought is that maybe....just maybe......Corpus Hostium might still live on...
Having killed Mr Grundy in the Bene't Street Hostel, I was offering him some Ginger Cake when a fellow Corpuscle shot me with what I can only describe as a Detective Special. My time on the wanted list was short, but certainly not sweet. Alas, neither Patrick Bateman, the Minister of Fear, J Doe's Consultant, Ennui or Trezzer will make another report this term.
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