Ten ways to kill a man: Back in business

By Quicksylver

Our fav. Fembot is back in the game with more deadly escapades. Thank you Robby! If not for you I would not have written more. Well ? here goes nothing! This story contains original characters and is purely fictional. Any similarity with real people or events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized posting is strictly prohibited.

Bits of Paper.

Jaques Victoire gazed unto a picturesque Paris from the Eiffel Tower observation deck. It had been a long time since he saw his birthplace as he had been in exile for the past twelve years in Canada. Interpol had been hot on his trail then for the church bombings in Barcelona. Over the years things cooled down and it was time for him to come home. The wind ruffled his white grey hair and blew the smoke of his cigarette across the deserted deck. The place was undergoing renovations but simple signs had never stopped him from doing what he wanted. He flicked the butt of his cigarette over the rail and watched as it disappeared. A throat cleared behind him and he spun around. A petit brunette in long frumpy overalls stood facing him.

"If you litter, you'll be bitter... when fined." She said in perfect French.

"Fuck off" he retorted, smirking at her shocked expression.

He turned back to the view but would not enjoy it for long. With both hands she lunged at him, using his surprise to press her advantage. With flailing hands he balanced on the cast iron railing before finally losing against gravity. His screams pierced the crisp Parisian air as he paid the ultimate fine.

Un.

I brake for no one.

Peter Wallen steered his Pontiac Firebird ™ up the steep hill with ease. Crime does pay, was his motto, and it paid well. He patted the silver briefcase that lay in the leather passenger seat, half a mil? tax-free. He listened smugly to the low purr of the engine. He had just gotten his wheels back from the shop today. It had taken longer than usual to get all of the bullets out. He remembered the sweet little brown haired girl who had handed him the keys. She was probably new. The Pontiac gained speed on the decline and he pressed gently on the brakes. Nothing happened. Panic surged through him as he repeatedly pushed on the brake pad. The world seemed to blur as he tried in vain to regain control. With a sickening crunch the front of the car wrapped around telephone pole as Wallen was thrown through the shattered windshield. As he lay on the ground his blood ran over the open silver case, turning his 'blood' money truly bloody.

Deux

Thar she blows!

I just know somethin's gonna happen taday. Ma second day in New York City? the beeeg apple! I can feel it in ma bones. Whoa? look at tha purdy mama in her short skirt. That's a mighty fast car she standing by, all red n' shiny like. Too bad she ain't stayin'. Them tall heels sure do echo in these here underground parking space though . Aw sheet! ... dropped ma keys. Hey somun's cumin'. It's a man. He sure does look rich in that fancy shmancy suit. Wait? I know him, he's that mob guy... the one out on bail. Wonder why he's getting' into the lady's car, bet he's stealin' it. Can't put anything above them criminals. Great day in the mornin'!  It blew up! The car, went up like a big firecrack'r it did! Aw sheet! ... cracked my new windshield too. Pa's gonna kill me!

Trois

Eye of the Tiger.

Eric Swano slammed the door of his car and locked it. As he juggled the keys his briefcase fell and clattered on the stone driveway. Eric cursed. Being an attorney was not an easy job, especially when you're on the take. I need a vacation, he thought to himself as he scooped up the papers strewn on the stone path. Maybe I'll use some of the money to take the wife and kids on a nice trip. Maybe to the Bahamas. Something flashed in the corner of his eye and he looked up. It flashed again. It was a small glass circle by the looks of it. There was that flash again. He focused his vision and gasped. It wasn't just glass, it was the target lens of a sniper rifle. The weapon was held by a woman hidden in the thick foliage of the trees. Like the eye of a tiger she pinned him in place with the red laser, like a deer frozen in headlights. She squeezed the trigger and he was devoured.

Quatre

Depth is measured by weight.

I watch him resting, the journey had been tiring. The wind blows a strand of hair from my face and I brush it away. He is an aging man with a naïve face to disguise the evil inside. I hold his glasses in my hand as I use my foot to roll his stout body into the soft sand. When he is half covered he stirs. As his mind registers the situation he starts to struggle which only serves to sink him further. I step back as he reaches for me? in vain. The quicksand is up to his chin now. He stops writhing and just looks at me, his murderer. Soon his eyes are all I can see, then his hands? still tied in their bonds. They too disappear and I walk away. There is nothing left for me here.

Cinq

Don't feed the animals.

 Vern Mitchell did not like animals? especially cats. The way they moved, sounded, smelled, everything about them. So why was he standing on scaffolding above the Metro City Zoo's lion cage in the dead of night was probably a very valid question. He listened to the low grumbling of the restless lion below and cursed. If there wasn't so much money involved he would never have come. If he was one thing, he was a greedy little son of a bitch. He threw the butt of his cigar into the cage, hitting the huge male in the head. He giggled hysterically as the monstrous feline reared its head to roar. He glanced up.... a woman was standing at the ladder.

"You the contact?" he demanded. She tilted her head to one side.

"There's a law against hurting animals you know" she said softly. He shrugged.

"They're to dumb to know it anyway" he stated and she frowned.

As he watched she pulled one of the pins out of the scaffold. The plank he was standing on wobbled.

"What the hell...?" he shouted.

With horror he watched her pull out another. One more and he would fall. He started to beg as she fingered the third, unable to move lest he fall. Quickly she tugged out the last pin. Vern wobbled and fell, his terrified screams drowned out by the deafening roar of the angry lion.

Six

Straighten up and fly right.

Fitzgerald Gideon checked the equipment one more time then turned on the radio. Soon classic Billie Holiday crooned from the cockpit's old fm stereo. He looked out of the small glass window onto the deep blue gulf. It reminded him of the time he served in the marine core. He was all brass back then, patriotic to a fault. But he had also been dumb, believing that he would be treated well after serving his country so well. They had treated him alright? gave him a hand shake and a pink slip and shown him the door. Well? he would show them. He was not going to come away empty handed. Working as a spy was proving to be more rewarding than his previous employment. He smirked to himself. Suddenly a loud beeping echoed through the cockpit and he looked down. The tanks were empty, all of the fuel had been dumped. But how could that be? the girl back in the hanger had assured him that the tanks were full. He checked the indicator, it was still on full. He looked closer and almost choked. The indicator had been jammed into position. That bitch, he sneered, turning to look for his life raft as the plane began its descent. The boat was gone too. He punched at the seat, panic rushing through his body. Finally, with one last sigh he sat back in his seat in unnatural calm. As the endless sea loomed closer he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for impact.

Sept

Habeus Corpus

Detective Tracy Webber looked at the body as it lay in the blood stained tub. As the department photographer snapped his pictures the tall redhead studied the scene. The victim was in his twenties, slim and pale. Not to mention the fact that he had two huge gashes along his wrists. Apparent suicide they called it, that was what it looked like. It was an open and shut case... at least it seemed to be. There was no motive for one. This young man was a known womanizer and the son of a prominent lawyer, he himself training to follow in his father's footsteps. Why would he kill himself? It was rumoured that he had a drug problem but that was most likely false, that and the report of him fighting with a mystery brunette girlfriend who no one really saw and who couldn't be found. A nosy tenant down the hall claimed that the girl had visited the victim three hours before he was found dead by the maid but still could not positively identify her. Nosy hag, he thought as the coroner came to cart the body away. He walked out into the living room and watched as the officer bagged and tagged the old style shaving blade that had been used. Webber rubbed at his tired eyes, he needed some sleep. The case was obvious? suicide. It was as simple as that. Case closed.

Huit

You'll catch your death...

I fiddle with the joy-stick to make the camera zoom closer. The fear on his face is priceless as he paces around the huge walk in freezer. Occasionally he would strike out, knocking over the packs of meat stacked against the walls. He has long given up trying to open the door. I made sure that it was tightly sealed. He's jumping from one foot to the other now, trying to stay warm. His voice is hoarse from screaming now but still he mumbles continuously. Time passes and still I watch him. He is huddled in a corner now, weeping. He begs now like his victims had begged before he killed them. And like him I give no answer but death. He is still now... still hunched over. Slowly I stand and walk away... leaving him to his icy hell.

Neuf

Banzai!

This is so much fun! I'm actually going to do it, I'm going sky diving! My friend Nicole took a full two weeks but she finally persuaded me. Wow! We in the plane now, it's sooo big. We're going up high now and the butterflies are starting to flutter. Nicole smiles and squeezes my hand. We are both so nervous.  I look to my right, there is a man there and he is angry. He frowns a lot and is pissing every body off. I won't let him get to me though... today is too important. We're almost ready now. We stand and face the door like the instructor commands. The grumpy man is in front of me, grumbling something I can't hear. No matter. Nicole tickles me and we giggle. I can't wait. It's time to go and I push off, screaming; the air is so incredibly strong... like a big hand holding me up. Fear rushes through me... it's time to open the chutes. I pull the cord and the wind jerks me up. Nicole does the same and I give her a thumbs up. The instructor is shouting and I look down. The grumpy man's parachute will not open and he's in free fall. Oh my God! Pull the reserve man! He does but it won't open. I cover my eyes as he falls. When I touch down I see people gathered around him. The instructor tries to keep everyone calm but we all know he's dead. I can't believe he's dead. I'm never going parachuting again!

Dix

Hope you liked it!

there maybe another in the works
but i'm not sure.

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