Universe (at war)

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Points 4141
Reviews 16
When you and I verse each other it is like a war between trained Marines and kids with sticks and rocks. You were like a dog barking at a wolf, only you did not speak but you sure as hell got bitten. Not that I feel bad for what happened, but if there is any tragedy here it is the fact that under different circumstances, we could have been friends. I’m sure we have a lot in common, you and me. You weren’t as smart as I was, obviously or you’d still be alive. But you must have come from similar circumstances. Were you poor growing up? Did you get into a lot of fights in school? Did the people you trusted try to take advantage of you? Have you ever felt powerful enough to think you could never die?

We were on the train when we first met. Well, not really when we met, but rather when I first realized what you were. You were the blonde haired kid in the far end of the car, sitting in the seat facing me. How old were you, twenty? No, you were twenty two no doubt. A prodigy like I was when I was your age, but still lacking in experience. I mean you must have realized that I had made you on the train. You didn’t even try that hard to blend in. Even before I boarded the train, I noticed that there was something about you that just wasn’t right. You didn’t belong. The mother who sat three rows in front of you trying to console her wailing toddler, she belonged. The gray haired white man sitting across from me, drinking his coffee and reading the highlights on the sports page; he belonged. The elderly Chinese couple sitting three rows in front of me, arguing with each other in Cantonese about whose turn it was to cook dinner that evening; they belonged. But not you, you with your dark blue vest over your gray sweatshirt with the hood pulled over your face, concealing your eyes with shadows. The way you moved, the way you carried yourself, the way you spoke (or refused to speak actually), everything about you stood out like a splinter infecting the tissue beneath my skin, waiting to be ripped out and disposed of. You shouldn’t have been watching me, or at the very least you should have aborted your plans when you realized I was watching you. You did realize I was watching you, didn’t you?

I left the train as soon as it pulled into the station, you followed a fair distance behind, though not fair enough from what I could see in the reflections on the glass panels of the advertisements overhead. I stopped at a news stand on the right of the platform and gave you a look just to let you know what was up. The station was crowded but you still stood out. For a moment I thought you had taken the hint. You changed your path and stepped out of the main walkway, making your way through the lesser used passage behind the newsstand and past the bathrooms.

I bought a pair of cheap cotton gloves from the dark skinned vendor just in case. He said, “have a nice day,” in broken English and I continued onward. I slipped the gloves onto my dry fingers and returned to the mob. I already knew how these things play out in crowded areas, train stations, bus depots, airports and what not. Even though I thought, or hoped rather, that you had given up; I was not the man to take chances.

I didn’t make it past the security booth before I spotted you again, this time walking with the crowd in the opposite direction. The way you positioned your steps made it all too obvious that you were trying to get close to me. Fine, I thought, if that’s how he wants to play then there’ll be one less asshole on this earth. There was a brief opening in the crowd when the college age kid in front of you stopped to tie his shoe. Through that opening I could see your left hand with the thumb resting on the plastic plunger of the syringe you were trying to conceal.

Poison, I thought, clever but insulting nonetheless. What kind did you use; Potassium chloride, a high dose of pancuronium, a few grams of ricin or some sort of animal venom perhaps? I suppose that’s for you to know and for me to never find out. I was ready when you approached me. I could feel your hand moving towards me as you bumped into my shoulder. You didn’t expect me to grab your wrist, did you? You never would have guessed that in a fraction of a second I could turn the needle toward your groin and push the plunger in myself. Did you know about the femoral artery, did you realize how much blood circulates through that vessel every minute or how quickly a toxin can spread through a body when injected into it? No of course not, your only thoughts at that moment were about the few agonizing moments you had left.

I heard you grunt when I stabbed you with your own needle. I was a few paces away when I heard you fall to the marble floor and the people behind me calling for help. No one would have suspected a thing. Even if someone had been watching me the whole time, they never would have been able to tell that I had killed you. So in turn, the world is now a safer place for those who don’t invade my personal space. As the security guards rushed past me I began to look forward to another easy Friday at work. At least I was looking forward to it until I noticed two more guys in the reflecting glass with their eyes fixed on me. Friends of yours? One is a tall Black man 1.9 meters, 95 kilos and he can carry his own weight well. The other is Hispanic, 1.6 meters tall and around 72 kilos. I suppose there is strength in numbers and I’m not too keen on the idea of getting into a fistfight with a couple of thugs before I’ve had my morning coffee. But they seem to be about as apt as you were when it comes to taking hints. And I can hardly think of a better hint than the body of a dead comrade.

I’ll take the utility hallway behind the coffee shop coming up on the left. I don’t care if they follow me. I don’t want to take them on at the same time, but there’s not a lot of room to move around in a hallway. Sit tight my dead friend, I’ll be sending you some company momentarily.
I owe everybody who gives me feedback one critique on a fiction work of their choice. Just give me a pm with a link and I'll critique whatever fiction piece you want.


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Points 3793
Reviews 143
Hiyas-leave it spellcheck-, Loveless here! Question: What in the living hell is this about? An assassian? I can live with those. Ninjas? That would be bangin'.
Plot:
I can't comment on the plot 'cause I have no idea what the plot is. Ha! Silly me.
Grammar:
You often forget to put in an aphostrophe. This isn't a big problem, but it would be best if you fixed it. You also forget commas. You often over described. Did we really need to know the height and weight of the people? I don't know, maybe we did. Anyway, though, it seemed like a bit much to me.
Question: Why is she talking to a dead man? It seems a bit whacked to me, but I suppose I understand why. I just felt I had to ask that question.
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LoVeLeSs I review short stories and novels.

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Points 5524
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I liked how this was written, you definitely have a distinct voice, that of the scientific minded and cold blooded assassin. In response to Loveless above me, I think that your mentioning of the men's weights fits in with the overall tone. It doesn't seem out of place or superfluous at all when looked at stylistically. My favorite part was the first paragraph and I think it deteriorated from there. I think this is because the first paragraph set us up with a certain ingenuity which quickly fades off as the piece progresses and we realize what it's about. I mean, I thought the plot would be a little more interesting or original. Here you have the standard story of the anonymous assassin and I think you have the ability style-wise to make this piece a bit more your own. Other than that I'd say this is a good effort. But maybe try not to fall into cliches. OK !!




Random avatar
Gender Female
Points 790
Reviews 2
I was really interested with the title of this piece, it drew me in!
Although the first paragraph confused me and made me wonder if I should keep reading, I am glad I kept on going because it was worth the wait!! I think you have a good start and you should DEFINATELY keep going!! :D
I liked how you put so much detail into all of it, even taking time to describe the two thugs.
I would really like it if you incorporate those descriptions somehow later on.
Whether it be how much bigger they were\are than the main character or something else.

Please, send me a message (PM) when you publish the rest\a piece of it!! I really want to read more, and that was THE PERFECT cliffhanger for me :D

Good luck, and keep going!!

~J
Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense.
~Mark Overby




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Gender Male
Points 4141
Reviews 16
okkervilpuddle wrote:I liked how this was written, you definitely have a distinct voice, that of the scientific minded and cold blooded assassin. In response to Loveless above me, I think that your mentioning of the men's weights fits in with the overall tone. It doesn't seem out of place or superfluous at all when looked at stylistically. My favorite part was the first paragraph and I think it deteriorated from there. I think this is because the first paragraph set us up with a certain ingenuity which quickly fades off as the piece progresses and we realize what it's about. I mean, I thought the plot would be a little more interesting or original. Here you have the standard story of the anonymous assassin and I think you have the ability style-wise to make this piece a bit more your own. Other than that I'd say this is a good effort. But maybe try not to fall into cliches. OK !!



Thank you for your critique. This is actually a revision of a story I wrote about two years ago. I agree the story does sort of fall into cliches. I try to make my stories more accessible to the average reader but I often end up sacrificing originality in the process. I'll have to keep this in mind the next time I revise something.




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Was this, by chance, loosley based on Thomas Hardy's "The Man I Killed"? Because it seems that the main character hates having to kill this person










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