Chapter 1

Chapter 1
I need a change... I can't stay here anymore. Stan said this to me as we were walking to get some coffee from the street. I am pretty sure that Stanley suffers from depression. But that is a total cop out. Everyone suffers from depression in 2006. He has been through alot and I would not be alive if it weren't for his determination, and constant watching out for my back. A little background on Stanley's umm.. job.. you see Stanley is and always has been a professional killer. "How does one get into that line of work you ask yourself ? At least I always do. Let's take it back to 1968.. bear with me if you will.

1968-Atlanta
Stanley is 14 at the time. He borrowed his dads pistol. Stanley never held a gun in his life. He did not even like guns. But something broke in Stan's mind. I can't really say, I am just the narrator. My name is not so important if you are interested. It will be later, but for now just be patient. Back to Stan... This gun that Stan longed for was his fathers favorite gun. Stan knew where his dad kept the gun. Stan's dad always placed his pistol in the tupperware tray above the refrigerator in the kitchen. His dad never really tried to hide it. At anytime anyone could take the tupperware down, open it, and do what they liked with the pistol. It was never a big deal. Stan had to have the gun in his hand. The first time Stan held the pistol, his body shook, total carnivorous pleasure ran up and down his spine, and things became clearer. On an orgasm level, it must have been at least 3 back to back orgasms, something that I can do at will. Wink Wink.

Stan walked with the gun in his hand and stood in front of his bathroom mirror. He was so proud of himself. He held the muzzle up to his eye, and then down to his chest. It was total euphoria. He was higher than any ecstasy could take him. It was better than heroin x 10. Stan had to shoot something. The closest thing around was the family monkey.
Stan strolled into his brothers room where the monkey was kept. He despised the monkey and never got along with it after Hector, the monkey had peed on Stanley's record collection.

Stan felt a quote was appropriate for this occasion. The quickest thing that Stan could think of was a quote from one of his favorite films The Planet of the Apes... so from memory Stan recited :

"Beware the beast man, for he is the Devil's pawn. Alone among God's primates, he kills for sport or lust or greed. Yea, he will murder his brother to possess his brother's land. Let him not breed in great numbers, for he will make a desert of his home and yours. Shun him; drive him back into his jungle lair, for he is the harbinger of death."


Hector the monkey looked into Stans eyes. Hector the monkey saw that Stan was radiant. His eyes turned into brilliant sunburst. It was something quite beautiful really. Hector the monkey new that his time was up and uttered one last cry for help.

"Why are you doing this to me Stanley"
"Because,.... I have to."

Hector the monkey closed his eyes, said a prayer, being a good christian monkey, and breathed his last breath. His soul was prepared to go to monkey heaven. Stan grinned and shot Hector the monkey square in the forehead. Stan did not breathe for two minutes. He just relaxed. He wanted a cigarette.

You still here ? See what I mean... that was some cold ass shit. But that was just the beginning of the transformation of Stan. You see once you kill something alive, you have got to do it again. It is some scientific fact. You either got it in you, or you don’t. Stan definitely had it in him, and he had to prove himself by killing a person. Let me tell you about that as well since we are on the subject. Once you hear about this, then we can proceed with the rest of the story. Just got to get all this preliminary stuff out of the way. His first killing of man was in.. 1975. Here we go.. you’re gonna love this.....

1975...
People would always start off their conversations with.. “Hey that is the monkey killer over there” whenever they saw Stan. He was hard to miss. His signature was his wavey Jerry Lee Lewis hair. Stanley was known as an expert marksman. He could shoot and kill anything with one shot. His nickname was Iceberg. Stan protested the nickname, but never made any fuss of it when it was mentioned. Stan was well liked now. He had grown out of his teenage awkward years. By this time Stan had killed 300 dears, 200 cats, and one bear. He religiously watched gangster films. His heroes were Henry from Taxi Driver, and Bonnie and Clyde. He would still quote movie lines before he killed anything. It was just his way of paying homage to the greats.

Stan was reading the Atlanta Journal Constitution and drinking coffee in the corner bakery like he always did. Stan liked his coffee black. His favorite was Dunkin Doughnuts coffee. The owner, Richard, had the coffee brewing process to an art. His repeat customers could always count on Richard or his staff to keep the cups full if that is what they wanted, on the other hand, if you wanted to be left alone, people watch, or read your newspaper, he could ensure that your disturbance would be left to a minimum.

It was an overcast Friday and nothing new was the usual headline in Stans part of town. This day was different. Stan sat in his corner booth, turned to the travel section, and read an article on escaping to Costa Rica. Stan had never wanted to visit Costa Rica, but he read the article nevertheless. Stan had the ability to tune out the world when he would start to read. It wouldn’t take him long to peruse the articles, and when he was finished, a new cup of coffee and a slice of fresh apple pie would await him.

This day was different. When Stan had finished the articles, he put the newspaper down and did not see his pie. Nor was his coffee refilled. This was strange he thought. Instead he looked around and could see that there were no other customers in the shop. He did see Richard in the bakery just tending to a fresh batch of muffins. He looked outside and saw no one either. Very very strange he thought. Stan looked back towards the entrance and saw a customer walking towards the shop. He did recognize the face, but a quick guess, said the customer was in his 40’s. He dressed like a cowboy. His jeans were tight, and his walk was somehow forced. It was as if the man was fighting gravity itself.

The expression on the guys face was one of sheer desperation, and it was getting closer. The man stopped outside the front door, kicked his boots on the curb and shook off excess mud. He turned to look at Stan and made eye contact, nodded his head, and opened the door.

This was the beginning of a new life for Stan. The cowboy walked to the counter and immediately Richard came out with two doughnuts, one was a boston creme, and the other was an old fashioned cake style. He also placed a cup of fresh coffee, and a brown A4 envelope on the tray. No words were exchanged, just a simple nod to each-other, like they had known each-other since childhood. Richard went back into the kitchen and the cowboy with the muddy boots walked towards Stanley. Stan assumed that the man would keep on walking until he found a comfortable seat, but the cowboy didn’t. He stopped in front of Stan, looked him up and down, and winked at him. Stan did not know what to think. This guy must have me confused with someone else, or he is extremely friendly, either way, this is all very strange thought Stan. Stan nodded back and gave a fake smile.

“Now if I was a gambling man, i would say that your name is Stanley”
“Yes it is”
“Well, good I have been driving for days to meet you here at this very Dunkin Doughnuts”
“I’m sorry do I know you”
“Not really”
“I am not from these parts, got a farm up in Marietta myself. No I knew you would be here because my sources are good”
“Ok I see, well can I help you?”
“You sure can, why don’t you offer me a seat son?”
“Sorry, sir, please sit down”

With that the cowboy took his time sitting down across the other side of the booth from Stan. He immediately tore into his boston creme doughnut. When he was finished, which must have been 2 seconds, he devoured the old-fashioned. It was very impressive to see him eat so fast. He then picked up the coffee and drank very fast as well. The coffee must have been 98 degrees, but that did not phase the cowboy at all, it looked like something that was natural, like he had done it many many times before. When he was finished with everything he gracefully patted his mouth with a napkin and took a deep breath in.

“This envelope is for you my boy”
“Are you sure ? You don’t even know me”
“Do I really need to Stanley”
“I’m sorry, umm what is your name”
“NO NAMES, NEVER ANY NAMES, I will tell you that one time and don’t you forget it ! That is why I am still alive. We have a rule son, and no names is on the top of that list”
“Ok what is all this about?”
“Like I said before, this envelope is for you, it’s got your name on it. Do you see my name on it son?”
“We’ll no sir, I don’t.”
“Your quick Stanley, something that will take you very far in this line of work.”
“Line of work sir? What is it that you do?”
“No my boy, not me, .... you. I am just a messenger. So why don’t you take this here envelope and open it up. I know you are curious as to what is inside. It could be the god dam lottery for all I know. But take this advice, when a stranger has an envelope with your name on it, the only logical thing to do is to open it up. Easy as pie son. So stop dicking me around and take a look, it is worth your while.”

Stanley opened up the envelope. Inside it was a picture of a man and an address and a time. Written on the back of the picture were the words:

STANLEY GOOD LUCK, YOU PULL THIS OFF, THERE WILL BE MORE WAITING FOR YOU. THIS FIRST JOB PAYS $10,000. THE NEXT JOB $30,000. NOT BAD FOR A DAYS WORK. WE HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR A MAN OF YOUR STATURE AND TALENT FOR A VERY LONG TIME. DO NOT TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS. IF YOU NEED TO CONTACT ME DO IT THROUGH OR MUTUAL ACQUAINTANCE. I AM SURE THAT HE IS PLEASANT AS EVER. YOU CAN CALL HIM “COWBOY” AS I DO. WE WILL PROVIDE EVERYTHING FOR YOU. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS SHOW UP AND FINISH THE JOB. WE ARE WATCHING YOU SO DO NOT SCREW THIS UP.

Stan finished reading and put the envelope down and looked at the cowboy.

“Stanley, you are going to go far my boy, go so far. I do not know what your assignment is, hell I could care less, but you have to do it really. You have no choice. That is how these things are. Life is crazy like that. One day you are a pillar of the community, and the next you are a cleaner.”

Stan did not know what to think of this past 5 minutes. He did know that he had seen the movies before and this was cloak and dagger type shit. Stan knew his answer.

“What time do I have to be there?”
“I believe the time is written on the picture son.”
“Ok.... do I need to bring anything?”
“Just those stone cold eyes of yours. Also Stanley, this is going to change things. You will see the world differently after this. Some say for better, some say for worst. I personally don’t know. But you are not the first man I’ve done this with. Word of advice is, do not let your mind become clouded. Go back to the day you killed that monkey of yours and remember how great that felt to you. That is what you will take with you. That is the Stanley that we have been watching for all this time.”

Stan knew exactly what Cowboy wanted and Stan also wanted it for himself. Stan picked up the picture, gave a nod to cowboy and walked out the restaurant a man on a mission.

The man that was on the paper did not live to far away. Just a quarter mile up the road. The weather was starting to clear up when Stan reached his destination.

The car stopped outside a modest nice suburb of East Atlanta. There was no one else around. It didn’t seem to strange. Stan looked down at his watch and noticed that he was 5 minutes. Stan wondered where the man was going to be in the house. One thing did strike Stan’s eye. There was a burning cigarette on top of the mailbox. Strange Stan thought. He walked up to it and picked it up and started smoking it. It was a Camel Light, the same kind his dad smoked. Stan then instinctively opened up the mailbox and saw a pistol waiting to be used. Stan immediately picked it up and held it in his hands and got that all too familiar rush throughout his body.

With the gun in hand, Stan walked straight to the front door and knocked three times. Stan heard footsteps approaching and the figure behind the door was blurry. He then started to speak.

“Who is it?
“It is me.”
“I do not know you sir.”
“I know but I need your help, my car is stuck and I need to use your phone to call the tow truck.”
“Oh.. I see.. well come on in sir, we’ll get you sorted out real soon.”

The man opened the door to a grinning Stan. Stan walked inside the mans poorly decorated house and was quickly shown to a phone.

“What did you say your name was again sir?”
“I didn’t”

Stan then pulled out the gun and quoted:

"Maybe it was a love of the planets, maybe it was just my growing dislike for this one, but for as long as I can remember, I have dreamt of going to space. My goals didn't change a lot in the intervening years, much to my parents's dismay."

“Do you know what that means?”
“No sir.. are you going to shoot me?”
“Yes I am sir. Yes I am.”
“That quote is from the movie Gattaca. What does it mean to you? Is what I’m asking.”
“Umm something about dreams, and Nasa.”
“Wrong answer man. Wrong answer.”

Stan popped two bullets into the man from the picture. The man fell down gracefully, like Stan had seen in the movies. He knew to wipe his gun down and leave it at the scene of the crime. Stan then went to the kitchen and made himself a sandwich. He was still hungry from not eating his slice of apple pie from earlier.

15 minutes later Stan walked out back to his car. On the passenger seat was an envelope. The same that he had just seen an hour ago. Inside was the $10,000 and a new picture. This time it was a lady. On the back of the picture was the message:

YOU AND ME ARE GOING TO BE NEW BEST FRIENDS. THIS IS THE START OF A GREAT GREAT CAREER FOR YOU MY BOY. WELCOME TO THE CLUB.

Stan smiled to himself. He had never been in any clubs before. Turning the key in the ignition, Stan drove home. The weather had cleared up. It was a great end to an even better day.

Preface

Hit-man for Hire.


Preface
Some people are good at their jobs. I am fucking excellent at mine. Where I come from life is not worth much. The people I kill really do not matter. Sure their family will miss them. But that is just temporary. Life is temporary. Life will go on. If I killed a baker, what would be affected ? His bakery ? Yeah, but the truth is I can buy my bagels from some other bakery. Someone else can make the apple pie I desire. It doesn’t fucking matter. This is my justification for killing.

Stanley

Stanley is an interesting character. He hails by the way of Atlanta. Let me tell you a couple of things about him. Stanley is scared. Scared of many things. All is not so simple with him. His life is not perfect. No one's is. Does Stanley blame where he is now because his life was not perfect ? Yes he does. Stanley came from a middle-class family. All of his youthful years were spent on chasing women, driving fast cars, and dealing with his parents. You the reader need to know this because Stanley is a central character to this story. You see it was Stanley's grand vision that led to this day. Stanley is the reason why I am still alive. Stanley was the brains, the beauty, and even the fucking dynamite.

"Oh hell, just burn the son of a bitch and throw him in the river, that man is a sorry excuse for life, he will not go to heaven, he will not go to hell, he will just rot, rot for what he did to us, to everyone, he will no longer scrounge the earth with his soul."

Stanley '05 Outside a restaurant in Bangkok.