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Nobody's Business but the Turks
Nov. 7th, 2020 05:32 pmFive kills people. He may have only been an assassin for five years, but it connected with something in his soul. He's a psycho, a serial killer and he doesn't mind. It makes him who he truly is. That isn't to say he wants to kill people, but sometimes it's just the easiest answer. And one most people listen to.
He isn't going to kill his family. Idiots they may be, and some of them combatant, they're still his family. People he actually cares about whom he hasn't seen them in forty-five years. Yet they've changed. Not only is the Academy no longer together, but they've all become assholes. Especially Klaus, which really shouldn't have surprised him. And Ben's dead, Dad's dead and it's all a little too much to take. So he steals the Rolls and heads someplace with happier memories.
Griddy's Dougnuts. The seven of them used to sneak out to come here and eat to their heart's content. Simpler times.
He takes a seat at the counter and rings for the waitress. Almost immediately, another man walks in and takes a seat a few stools down from Five. There's nothing extraordinary about this man so Five leaves him alone, until the server arrives.
“Can I get the kid a glass of milk, or something?”
“The kid wants coffee. Black.”
While she's getting their order, Five laments to the man about what a dump this place has become. Has everything gone to shit while he was gone? The waitress returns and he's about to take a sip of Columbian goodness when he spots a logo on the man's shirt for a towing company. At least this trip won't be a total loss. He requests an address and once given, the man leaves.
It's not a minute before the door opens again. Can't he just be left in peace? Looking at the reflection in the bell Five can tell there are several men, all of them armed. Dammit. They've caught him at an inconvenient moment. How do they keep doing that?
“That was fast. I thought I'd have more time before they found me.”
“Okay, so let's all be professional about this, yeah? On your feet and come with us. They want to talk.”
“I've got nothing to say.”
“It doesn't have to go this way. You think I want to shoot a kid? Go home with that on my conscience?”
“Well, I wouldn't worry about that. You won't be going home.”
It isn't difficult. He grabs a butter knife and teleports behind the first man, stabbing him in the back. That's when the shooting starts as the rest of them take fire as well, confused at where to aim. Meanwhile, Five blinks in now and then to take each of them out. He breaks a mop and stabs one of them in the back, uses his tie to strangle another and strikes a pencil to yet another's eye. For the last two he blinks out and lets them shoot each other.
Work done for now, he retrieves his tie, putting it back around his neck and under the collar of his shirt. But wait-- one's of them is still breathing, crawling his way across the doughnut shop floor. Five finally get his hands dirty and snaps the man's neck. That's when he notices the tracking controller. They've got him lowjacked? Not that he's surprised, but this can't go on. He sits at a table and using a much sharper knife he digs the tracking device out from his inner forearm. He's going to need stitches after this.
Walking out of the shop, he drops the device near the sewer, straightens his tie and heads back to the car. He's ready to finally get some shut eye on what's been a very unusual day.
He isn't going to kill his family. Idiots they may be, and some of them combatant, they're still his family. People he actually cares about whom he hasn't seen them in forty-five years. Yet they've changed. Not only is the Academy no longer together, but they've all become assholes. Especially Klaus, which really shouldn't have surprised him. And Ben's dead, Dad's dead and it's all a little too much to take. So he steals the Rolls and heads someplace with happier memories.
Griddy's Dougnuts. The seven of them used to sneak out to come here and eat to their heart's content. Simpler times.
He takes a seat at the counter and rings for the waitress. Almost immediately, another man walks in and takes a seat a few stools down from Five. There's nothing extraordinary about this man so Five leaves him alone, until the server arrives.
“Can I get the kid a glass of milk, or something?”
“The kid wants coffee. Black.”
While she's getting their order, Five laments to the man about what a dump this place has become. Has everything gone to shit while he was gone? The waitress returns and he's about to take a sip of Columbian goodness when he spots a logo on the man's shirt for a towing company. At least this trip won't be a total loss. He requests an address and once given, the man leaves.
It's not a minute before the door opens again. Can't he just be left in peace? Looking at the reflection in the bell Five can tell there are several men, all of them armed. Dammit. They've caught him at an inconvenient moment. How do they keep doing that?
“That was fast. I thought I'd have more time before they found me.”
“Okay, so let's all be professional about this, yeah? On your feet and come with us. They want to talk.”
“I've got nothing to say.”
“It doesn't have to go this way. You think I want to shoot a kid? Go home with that on my conscience?”
“Well, I wouldn't worry about that. You won't be going home.”
It isn't difficult. He grabs a butter knife and teleports behind the first man, stabbing him in the back. That's when the shooting starts as the rest of them take fire as well, confused at where to aim. Meanwhile, Five blinks in now and then to take each of them out. He breaks a mop and stabs one of them in the back, uses his tie to strangle another and strikes a pencil to yet another's eye. For the last two he blinks out and lets them shoot each other.
Work done for now, he retrieves his tie, putting it back around his neck and under the collar of his shirt. But wait-- one's of them is still breathing, crawling his way across the doughnut shop floor. Five finally get his hands dirty and snaps the man's neck. That's when he notices the tracking controller. They've got him lowjacked? Not that he's surprised, but this can't go on. He sits at a table and using a much sharper knife he digs the tracking device out from his inner forearm. He's going to need stitches after this.
Walking out of the shop, he drops the device near the sewer, straightens his tie and heads back to the car. He's ready to finally get some shut eye on what's been a very unusual day.
