RPM
Guardian Angel Haruki
Antlers
Silly
NovellaAddict
Hexaflexagon
Whoami
Not a Sayan
JFKMusic
Moving around to the other side of the desk, she could see the body illuminated by the glow of the computer screen. The light revealed Tommy's facial features, his face contorted in a fading face of surprise or anger, pale and stained red by blood. The computer screen had half a dozen documents open, and a notification for a running application in the lower right.
The computer was undamaged and still running, so whoever had killed Tommy didn't seem to care much about anything other than killing Tommy. A dozen or so work files cluttered the screen- TPS reports, inventory lists, business e-mails, and more. At a glance it looked like Tommy was just doing some late night work, but further examination would reveal all these work files to be anywhere from days to weeks old. The app itself, was a recording app, camera still running. It looked like Tommy was in the middle of sending a video message. The video taken had yet to be saved, but could still be stopped and re-watched. It was dated that same day, at 9:40 PM- just 20 minutes ago.
As the video phazed in with a wash of static, there were some shifting and clicking sounds as Hisano watched Tommy adjust himself and the camera, throwing his phone lazily across his desk.
"Shit man," Tommy sighed as he settled himself in the chair, his voice cracking as burying his face in his hands for a moment before stress-fully breathing out. "Yo Talesin, its me. The defacation has royally hit the ventilation now."
"This HR shit isn't gonna work out man." Tommy started, "- ah fuck it with the secrecy, this corporate hit-squad shit is going south real fast."
"Uh, in our last job, we ran across something we weren't supposed to. And uh- you know me" He chuckled mirthlessly, with a finger tapping behind his left ear, with his head slightly turned, showing the near hidden slit behind his ear that was a datachip slot. "Cyber eyes, auto-record feature. Stored everything right in here."
"We found something big- something no one's supposed to know about. Like, this is some next level- corporate fucking shit going on right here. I thought we were safe because we're part of the company, but I guess VMT really doesn't want loose ends. Ridge is gone- I just got a call- they're tying up loose ends. Hard. I gotta get underground, and I need someone I can trust."
"I know you said no outsiders, but I'm bringing Hisano into the loop. Its only a matter of time before corporate traces my money to her, so they're gonna think she's in on it anyway."
"I'm gonna grab her, then we're gonna head to Fixer's Hope- Fuck! I really hate the Chinese Quarter. Sorry Talesin, I really need this favor-"
Tommy paused, like he heard something outside. He clicked something on the computer and rapidly fumbled with something in his hands, out of camera, and the hydraulic hiss of something opening underneath him could be heard. In a fluid motion, Tommy drew the pistol and slammed the container shut with his hand leveled the firearm at something off camera and squeezed the trigger. The video froze and stuttered as the bright muzzle flare blinded half of the camera. When the video was back in focus, Tommy was slumped in his chair, head hung limply backwards as a figure in all black pressed the muzzle of a pistol to his forehead and fired before pushing the body forward onto the desk.
"That all of them?" a deep, gruff voice off camera asked.
"Yeah I think so," replied a softer, male voice from the figure that had just executed Tommy. The figure paused, leaning across the desk to stare at the computer screen. His hand reached over to the mouse but the other voice interrupted him.
"He sent a text recently." The other figure stated before tossing the phone to the figure om front of the camera.
"Another loose end?"
"Possibly. Trace the number, find out where this Hisano Minako is."
"We taking care of her too?" the gruff voice asked. "Are we sure she's involved?"
"Doesn't matter, Knight said no loose ends."
The two figures rushed out the door, and the video fell silent for another 15 minutes before the faint sound of the door opening and Hisano's voice in the office could be heard calling out for Tommy. Hisano watched herself walk up to the body, and then to the computer screen.
Hisano shifted the body, taking a closer look at her old friend. Tommy's body was still warm, and rigor mortis had yet to set in. Hisano could easily identify small caliber bullet wounds- two in his chest, where most of the blood seemed to have poured from, and a single, execution style wound to the forehead. He wore a plain business suit, grey and white, his tie loosely pulled. His pockets were empty, but as Hisano fussed with the body, a small key came loose and fell out of his sleeve, making a plopping sound as it fell into the small pool of blood.
In his palm was a revolver, a small, chunky revolver with a short barrel and rubberized grip. A quick examination of the pistol showed that it had been fired once, and the weapon had a faint amount of residual heat- there was also a medium sized crater on the inside of the wooden door. The revolver was a pretty nice weapon- a bit nicer than a low level wage worker for VMT should have been able to afford. The pistol was primarily metals and other high quality materials, and probably costed a pretty penny, it was a B-Grade weapon, so it was expected to be a cut above the plastic or more disposable C-Grade weapons.
Moving around to the other side of the desk, she could see the body illuminated by the glow of the computer screen. The light revealed Tommy's facial features, his face contorted in a fading face of surprise or anger, pale and stained red by blood. The computer screen had half a dozen documents open, and a notification for a running application in the lower right.
The computer was undamaged and still running, so whoever had killed Tommy didn't seem to care much about anything other than killing Tommy. A dozen or so work files cluttered the screen- TPS reports, inventory lists, business e-mails, and more. At a glance it looked like Tommy was just doing some late night work, but further examination would reveal all these work files to be anywhere from days to weeks old. The app itself, was a recording app, camera still running. It looked like Tommy was in the middle of sending a video message. The video taken had yet to be saved, but could still be stopped and re-watched. It was dated that same day, at 9:40 PM- just 20 minutes ago.
As the video phazed in with a wash of static, there were some shifting and clicking sounds as Hisano watched Tommy adjust himself and the camera, throwing his phone lazily across his desk.
"Shit man," Tommy sighed as he settled himself in the chair, his voice cracking as burying his face in his hands for a moment before stress-fully breathing out. "Yo Talesin, its me. The defacation has royally hit the ventilation now."
"This HR shit isn't gonna work out man." Tommy started, "- ah fuck it with the secrecy, this corporate hit-squad shit is going south real fast."
"Uh, in our last job, we ran across something we weren't supposed to. And uh- you know me" He chuckled mirthlessly, with a finger tapping behind his left ear, with his head slightly turned, showing the near hidden slit behind his ear that was a datachip slot. "Cyber eyes, auto-record feature. Stored everything right in here."
"We found something big- something no one's supposed to know about. Like, this is some next level- corporate fucking shit going on right here. I thought we were safe because we're part of the company, but I guess VMT really doesn't want loose ends. Ridge is gone- I just got a call- they're tying up loose ends. Hard. I gotta get underground, and I need someone I can trust."
"I know you said no outsiders, but I'm bringing Hisano into the loop. Its only a matter of time before corporate traces my money to her, so they're gonna think she's in on it anyway."
"I'm gonna grab her, then we're gonna head to Fixer's Hope- Fuck! I really hate the Chinese Quarter. Sorry Talesin, I really need this favor-"
Tommy paused, like he heard something outside. He clicked something on the computer and rapidly fumbled with something in his hands, out of camera, and the hydraulic hiss of something opening underneath him could be heard. In a fluid motion, Tommy drew the pistol and slammed the container shut with his hand leveled the firearm at something off camera and squeezed the trigger. The video froze and stuttered as the bright muzzle flare blinded half of the camera. When the video was back in focus, Tommy was slumped in his chair, head hung limply backwards as a figure in all black pressed the muzzle of a pistol to his forehead and fired before pushing the body forward onto the desk.
"That all of them?" a deep, gruff voice off camera asked.
"Yeah I think so," replied a softer, male voice from the figure that had just executed Tommy. The figure paused, leaning across the desk to stare at the computer screen. His hand reached over to the mouse but the other voice interrupted him.
"He sent a text recently." The other figure stated before tossing the phone to the figure om front of the camera.
"Another loose end?"
"Possibly. Trace the number, find out where this Hisano Minako is."
"We taking care of her too?" the gruff voice asked. "Are we sure she's involved?"
"Doesn't matter, Knight said no loose ends."
The two figures rushed out the door, and the video fell silent for another 15 minutes before the faint sound of the door opening and Hisano's voice in the office could be heard calling out for Tommy. Hisano watched herself walk up to the body, and then to the computer screen.
Hisano shifted the body, taking a closer look at her old friend. Tommy's body was still warm, and rigor mortis had yet to set in. Hisano could easily identify small caliber bullet wounds- two in his chest, where most of the blood seemed to have poured from, and a single, execution style wound to the forehead. He wore a plain business suit, grey and white, his tie loosely pulled. His pockets were empty, but as Hisano fussed with the body, a small key came loose and fell out of his sleeve, making a plopping sound as it fell into the small pool of blood.
In his palm was a revolver, a small, chunky revolver with a short barrel and rubberized grip. A quick examination of the pistol showed that it had been fired once, and the weapon had a faint amount of residual heat- there was also a medium sized crater on the inside of the wooden door. The revolver was a pretty nice weapon- a bit nicer than a low level wage worker for VMT should have been able to afford. The pistol was primarily metals and other high quality materials, and probably costed a pretty penny, it was a B-Grade weapon, so it was expected to be a cut above the plastic or more disposable C-Grade weapons.
