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Patience (standard:Suspense, 2471 words)
Author: Adrien TepesAdded: Oct 20 2005Views/Reads: 1998/1125Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A Mafia hitman is subjected to the worst his own kind has to offer. Introduces Bobby Brash as the main character in an ongoing serial, hinting at his past and conflicts to come. Pretty badass -- worth a read if you're into this kind of stuff.
 



Jimmy James put up one hell of a fight before he died. That ain't his
real name, of course. He was a hitman, and hitmen need fancy names. The 
rumors went that he took three bullets to the chest and a few to the 
gut before he finally stopped swinging that big knife of his, and I 
believe it. Hell of a guy, Jimmy was, and I would know--he was my 
brother. One of the best. But I'm better. You see, hittin' people is 
sorta the family business, but I'm in a bit of a pickle now. I don't 
kill anyone that don't deserve it, and it's coming back now to bite me 
in the ass. 

Franky Two-Time slaps me hard across the face, again. There's not a
whole lot I can do to stop him strapped down in this chair like I am. I 
want out of it--I want out I can wrap that ugly yellow necktie around 
Franky's throat so tight his tongue pops out his nose--and I know I'll 
get out sooner or later. But in most circles, I'm known as Bobby Brash. 


And patience ain't never been one of my virtues. 

"What're you smilin' at there, Bobby? Somethin' funny?" Franky asks me.
I can't see his face--the light they got shining down on me blurs out 
anything but his silhouette--but I know it's him. He's the one that did 
my brother in, and now he's about to do me. It's my own fault, really. 
I knew they used Jimmy to get to me, and I should've left well enough 
alone. Franky would've hunted me down eventually, and I could've dealt 
with the asshole then, but it's like I said--me and patience, we ain't 
exactly the best of friends. I lift my bloodied lips into a wider grin 
for Franky. 

Franky circles around me, walking slowly from one side of the chair to
the back. I can't be sure, but I've got an idea he's not the only one 
behind me. He asks me another question. "What'd you come to me for, 
Bobby? You had to know we was comin' for you, so why'd you have to go 
and make it so easy? You think after you screwed around with that 
Valezzi deal like you did we wouldn't bring you in for a little 
interview, Bobby? Come on. You ain't stupid." 

I manage to lift one middle finger around the ropes tied to my hands.
I'm not sure Franky sees me until I feel his wingtip clout the back of 
my skull. 

I must have blacked out for a second, cause when I open my eyes again,
Franky's back in front of me. 

"I didn't think you could lift your leg that high, Franky. I'm surprised
your fat ass didn't bust through your pants or somethin'" Stooge humor, 
but I get the message across. This jackass didn't break me yet. 

Franky Two-Time shakes his head and sighs, dropping into a crouch to
look me in the face. "You were good, Bobby. Maybe the best." 

"Why you talkin' in the past tense, Franky? You ain't gonna hurt me, are
you?" 

Franky tries to play the good guy part. "What happened to you, Bobby?
You get paid? You get squeezed? I want to help you Bobby, believe me I 
do." 

The part of that isn't bruised and beaten almost wants to believe him.
It isn't much. 

"Why'd you kill my brother, Franky? He didn't have nothin' to do with
Valezzi." 

"No, Bobby, no...but he's got plenty to do with you. And you've got a
piece of information we want." 

I set my jaw a little harder. 

"He wouldn't talk, Bobby. You understand. I have a job to do. I gotta
find Valezzi, and to do that that I gotta find you. Jimmy wouldn't tell 
us where you were, but he helped us find you one way or another." 

Franky raises his head a little, and my theory on the guy behind me
proves true. Franky gives a little nod, and I hear something like 


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