Match Five

[James]

The Beginning

Geoff moved silently through the cobblestone streets, his heavy cloak covering his head as the rain poured down all around him. The cold, wet feeling was annoying and uncomfortable, but the job he had to complete was worth the nuisance – his target was only a six or seven meters away now. It was the closest he’d gotten all night and he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. His fingers itched to use the weapon he had concealed in the folds of his coat, to finally complete the mission given to him by his superiors, so he could go somewhere warm and dry out for next several hours.

Five meters now, his feet not even making a sound as he stealthily flowed across the slick street. Three meters left, the object in his hand heating up as the adrenaline pulsed through his veins. One meter separated them, his breathing almost nonexistent, moving aside the cloak to give him room to maneuver the weapon in his hand. Now!

[James]

Entry One

Geoff moved silently through the cobblestone streets, his heavy cloak covering his head as the rain poured down all around him. The cold, wet feeling was annoying and uncomfortable, but the job he had to complete was worth the nuisance – his target was only a six or seven meters away now. It was the closest he’d gotten all night and he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. His fingers itched to use the weapon he had concealed in the folds of his coat, to finally complete the mission given to him by his superiors, so he could go somewhere warm and dry out for next several hours.

Five meters now, his feet not even making a sound as he stealthily flowed across the slick street. Three meters left, the object in his hand heating up as the adrenaline pulsed through his veins. One meter separated them, his breathing almost nonexistent, moving aside the cloak to give him room to maneuver the weapon in his hand. Now!


Geoff aimed the pistol at his target, the weapon looking like a pipe so as not to attract attention. With a push of the trigger button the weapon went off with a bang unlike any thunder, and a cloud of smoke. The man in front of Geoff fell dead to the ground. There was no blood splatter despite the close range and with the weapon being a pipe in look he could suggest that he had merely been smoking and had no idea who shot the man if questioned. However that was not bound to happen as he could see the constable running toward the scene, nearly slipping as he took a corner without slowing down.

Without a second to waste Geoff vanished into the crowd of people who had just arrived to see what had happened. He allowed the people to get in closer, pushing him further out until he was far enough away to make an escape down the nearest dark alleyway back to the hotel he had been staying at. The streetlights weren't lit as the rain kept snuffing out the flames from the gas lamps. The glass and brass casings were horrid at keeping the water out despite that being their purpose. He could see other people moving though the main street at the other end of the alleyway, oblivious to something that had happened merely a few dozen meters away. Their ignorance was almost funny but definately to his advantage.

Turning right onto the main road Geoff saw the hotel, it had probably seen better days but was far from run down. He approached the door casually, as if merely coming back from the store and made sure to conviently drop the used pipe pistol into the sewer grate on his way. The doorman opened the heavy oak door from the inside and offered to hang his cloak in the foyer closet until he left. Geoff declined the offer and made his way to the pay telephones, there he could call his contact and give him the message of mission success. He reached in his pocket to retrieve the number only to find the ink had run from contact with the water.

He tried to make the call anyway, he knew most of the number by memory and the ink hadn't run too badly to not be read. After inserting the quarter and dialing the correct number the phone started to ring on the other end, and ring, and ring. It had gone on for nearly two minutes straight before the pain in the ass known only as Mr. Smithy, picked up the line. Geoff hated the arrogant bastard for many reasons but mainly because Smithy found it funny to always say "Now I'll have to improvise!" at any and all possible times.

"So, how did it go Geoff. I assume you had to improvise?" Smithy's stupid line had somehow even managed to make it into question form nowadays.

"The meeting went well, and no there were no surprises in the fine print Mr. Smithy. Just as it should be."

"Very well, I'll tell Elwyn that he shouldn't sell his stock in the company's future quite yet. Your commission has been transferred to your account via Western Union. Good bye and enjoy your vacation, while it lasts."

After Smithy hung up Geoff, started laughing quietly to himself. The pain in the ass had finally gotten his line shut down so that he just went to business. That sort of thing never happened with Smithy. Hanging his end of the phone up, he looked around to see if anyone was taking undue interest in his actions. His quick glance showed that the only other guests in the area were some old gentlemen in suits with brandy, talking about things that nobody else would ever understand.

Suddenly feeling very tired Geoff slowly walked down the hallway to the Western Union office, they would likely close soon but he couldn't force himself to rush. He had done his job and wanted to take his time now that all was said and done. As he arrived at the office he could see they were indeed about to close and with some effort forced himself to hurry through the doorway and to the desk where the clerk asked if there was anything she could help him with with a bit of an irritated look.

"Just expecting an arrival wire from a Mr. Smithy ma'am."

The clerk looked down at the notes from the wire operatiors, her index finger tracinng the colums of names until she stopped at one at the very bottom. "Your Mr. Smithy likes to be late doesn't he, the wire only arrived a couple of minutes ago. You're lucky you got here before we closed sir."

Geoff ignored her attitude as he signed the forms and took his money. He wished her a good night with a big smile just to piss her off further. With his business done he walked down the hallway again glad to at least be out of the rain and only a flight of stairs to his comfortable room and even better a nice bed to sleep in.

Once in his room he changed into his nightwear and took a quick look out the window where he could see a number of police officers and a crowd of onlookers even from the hotel room. There had to be quite a few of them but they would never catch him. They had no weapon, no witnesses and no motive. The case would languish and die as so many had before. With a contented yawn Geoff crept into bed with thoughts of maybe taking his vacation down south, where it was warmer and much less rainy. As those thoughts passed he slipped into the silent, dreamless sleep people of the damned.

[James]

Entry Two

Geoff moved silently through the cobblestone streets, his heavy cloak covering his head as the rain poured down all around him. The cold, wet feeling was annoying and uncomfortable, but the job he had to complete was worth the nuisance – his target was only a six or seven meters away now. It was the closest he’d gotten all night and he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. His fingers itched to use the weapon he had concealed in the folds of his coat, to finally complete the mission given to him by his superiors, so he could go somewhere warm and dry out for next several hours.

Five meters now, his feet not even making a sound as he stealthily flowed across the slick street. Three meters left, the object in his hand heating up as the adrenaline pulsed through his veins. One meter separated them, his breathing almost nonexistent, moving aside the cloak to give him room to maneuver the weapon in his hand. Now!

Geoff lunged, the dagger in his hand flickering out to stab deep into his target. He withdrew the weapon, a predatory grin plastered onto his face. The heated steel cauterized the wound as it slid out, driving waves of agony shrieking along the mark's back. He fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

Instantly, the assassin was on top of his foe, trying to drive his knife home. The man he was trying to kill managed to catch his wrist, slowing the downward push dramatically. He strained against the restraining hand, hissing in effort as the wounded target shoved upwards with as much effort as he could manage. Every moment in the open like this increased the chance of detection, especially with such a high profile mark.

He redoubled his efforts, throwing his other hand onto the hilt of the knife. The man below him thundered a punch into his ribs, and he coughed painfully just as a second, vision jarring hit crashed into the same spot. He swore and the man beneath him managed a grin, though his teeth were smeared with blood.

Geoff withdrew a hand and slammed the mark's face repeatedly, twisting and exhaling hard with each hit. Steadily the upward pressure slackened, and he brought the knife ever closer to his opponent's left eye which, along with his right, was widening with terror. With a triumphant roar, the blade drove home with a wet thud. Geoff took the blade back, touching his forehead in the traditional salute to the fallen. He turned, his breath coming in short gasps, and his eyes fell upon another three men. Seemingly in slow motion, a chain dropped from one's hands, coiling onto the floor.

Chain-man bared his teeth. "You're getting sloppy, assassin. We heard you killing our friend."

In reply, Geoff's hand blurred forwards, and the knife hurtled through the air. It hit Chain-man point first in the gut, with enough force to knock him over. Even as the weapon left his hands, the trained killer was going for a more practical tool. A length of fine, black cord was quickly tied around his hand, and the short, blunt dart at the end of the rope gleamed dangerously. It clinked softly as it settled onto the floor.

Chain-man swore and tried to get up, but the man on the left laid a pipe gently on his shoulder, pushing him back down. He turned to charge, raising his pipe like a bat. His friend did the same, but had some length of blunt metal. Pipe-man took a step forwards.

The dart flew through the air, crunching neatly into his sternum. Geoff withdrew it quickly and spun. The momentum carried the dart back around to slam into Pipe-man's right eye, jellying his brain. A quick jerk returned the dart to Geoff. The blinding speed of the attack had halted Metal-man, but he looked like he was gathering his resolve. Hesitantly, he took a step forward, and then another, and the steps that practically ended in question marks turned into a run. Geoff grunted critically, inspected his dart, and wiped it on his pant leg. That done, he backpedaled as he quickly stowed it again, swapping it for a pair of brass knuckles before moving towards his new foe.

Metal-man swung haphazardly, and Geoff easily dodged. His fist rocketed into Metal-man's jaw, and the crunch announced it was broken. A swift two punches to the throat finished him off. The assassin glanced around before vanishing into the night, with only the evidence of four corpses to say he was there at all.


"So, I see you had an assignment last night." His trainer's voice was cold, and Geoff turned around, his eyebrow rising in bemusement. Assignments were told to no one, it was a mystery how those people died.

"How did you know?"

His teacher's eyes gleamed dangerously. He extended a bundle of cloth as though it hid vipers. "This."

With trepidation, the killer unfolded the bundle. He peered into it and saw the last thing he ever wanted to see being held by a teacher.

His knife.

"Despite this... Failing... The bosses have opted to give you another target." This was unprecedented, telling his teacher to give him his work. As far as Geoff knew, it had never happened before. He took the envelope gingerly, like it was a bomb. A cold smile tugged at the corners of his teacher's lips. "This one's deadly... Be careful, Geoff."


Just another assignment.

He slipped neatly into the house, leaving two guards outside. He had been sure to withdraw the throwing knives, smiling grimly to himself as he did so.

Not making that mistake again.

He ghosted through the house, moving from shadow to shadow silently, the thick black leather and cool, mottled dark green cloth he wore aiding in breaking up his outline. He reached the room and extended a hand, intending to open the door. As soon as his fingers closed on the handle, though, the wood exploded outwards.

Geoff blasted into a wall, shaking his head and swearing. He tore his sword from its back-scabbard, one of his three assigned weapons for this fight. His others had been the throwing knives and a punch-dagger. The killer grunted, getting up and trying to see through the dust.

Shit!

He twisted, and a hail of iron spikes sliced across his shirt, gouging bloody furrows through his skin. The red liquid began to seep through the clothing on his chest, and his eyes widened in horror. He surged forward, sword preceding him. The thin, straight blade was ideal for close quarters, and he wove a web of steel around the first moving object he saw. He strode forward, confidence coursing through him as he pushed the man back a step, and another. He'd never failed before.

He failed to notice a few very important things as he attacked, his mind caught up on the blade carving intricate patterns through the air. As the dust cleared, a slight smile of amusement played across his target's face. Each stroke was being blocked or dodge easily. Despite the ease of the defense, nothing was being thrown back. Then, abruptly, the retreat stopped.

The deadly arcs and thrusts his blade blade coursed through were parried easily, until the assignment let the blades lock. With a scream of steel on steel, the swords slid until their hilts locked. One man stood there, panting, sweat trickling down his face. The other breathed evenly through his nose, professional detachment in his eyes.

The first worm of fear wriggled into Geoff's stomach.

He disengaged by sending a knee crashing into the mark's side. With a grunt of discomfort, he allowed the blades to separate. Their weapons danced, and he managed to keep the keen edge of his target's sword an inch from his skin with each pass. The tempo of the fight increased, and his defense began to outweigh his defense, until he was solely focussed on trying to escape. He blocked one hit, then another, but the third time his sword met only air.

A feint. The last attack was a feint.

The thought blasted through his head at about the same time that the force of a kick blasted through his knee, sending him toppling. He clutched the wounded joint. He let out a shout of pain, and his sword rolled from his hands. Automatically, he tried to roll to his feet, but his leg wouldn't support him. He landed back on one knee. His gaze flashed up to the man he now knew would kill him. A voice boomed from his chest, icy cold, as cold as the blade that ripped through him. As cold as his blood when he heard the final few words in his life.

"You should have gotten your knife, then we wouldn't have had to kill you. Goodbye."

[James]

Entry One's Reviews

Nothing totally grammatically correct, but a lot of your phrasing seemed awkward. However, on the other end, the dialogue was great – I liked that the best. Good work!

***

(With a push of the trigger button the weapon went off < “button” really not needed!) How was there no blood splatter? That, honestly, isn’t very realistic. You just blew his brains out!

After the shooting things seemed to go very quickly. It was a lot of this and that but no emotion or thoughts and nothing to really connect to as a reader.

Alrighty, you have lost me! First off, this appears to be something akin to Victorian times or later? The constable? The gas lamps? … Then you use a quarter in a phone? Umm, what? Think some clarification should be inserted somewhere near the beginning as to what time period and if it’s a different universe.

The story got a lot better with the phone call and continued to do so right up until the end. I admit to laughing a few times and loved the little banter. I’m wishing it had started off with a lot more connection!

***


It was well written and the setting was a nice touch, but the whole feel of the story was so, "ho hum," as if nothing that happened actually mattered. A brush with certain death and a narrow escape would have improved the whole of the story greatly.

***

This was a good, solid story. There was no attempt to make Geoff even remotely likable – as was emphasized by the very last sentence (which, unfortunately, looked like it could use some editing before it was posted?) Still, I got the gist of it quite nicely.
The bane of this piece, though, were the run-on sentences peppered throughout. There were innumerable places where a comma could have easily been replaced by a period, and made the whole story better for it.

And not until it was spelled out for me, did I understand the Western Union lady was irritated with him – the character interactions probably needed a bit more “show,” which would have made the “spell it out for the reader and tell them” moments a lot less needful.

***


Let's get right to the point. Grammar and punctuation wise, that could have gotten a lot better. You do know what a comma is and why they're there, right? You either didn't use them when they were needed or put them in at random places, which seriously broke up the flow. You overused a few words and your wording itself just didn't sit well with me. The piece just seemed so very awkward.

Plot-wise, it was okay. Nothing too big to complain about there. I wasn't really interest at all in the story, though. I almost skipped half of it to get to the end then realized that I was supposed to be reviewing it. So yeah, try to maybe make a more compelling read and fix up all the obvious grammar mistakes, and you should be fine.

***


I'm thinking the author had to improvise. There wasn't alot here.

Guy kills guy, gets paid, gets off scott-free. . . So what? I don't know who any of these people are, why what's happening is happening, or why it's noteworthy enough to write about.

The most interesting character was the Western Union clerk.

***

Meh. Didn't do much for me, didn't do much against me. The writing early on had some issues (the pipe descriptions were just... blah!) but things improved later on. I just... meh. Lots of meh. Meh.

[James]

Entry Two's Reviews

Plenty of action in this one, to say the least. Without a doubt, there was a great deal of devotion spent on the details of the fights, blow-by-blow.

It would have been nice, though – and there was plenty of room to work with, considering word count – to give something of a feel, somehow, of the setting. I had absolutely no idea where this story took place, what kind of landscape or homes he might have been in – much less, what time period (or at least what “age?” Bronze Age setting? Middle Ages? Renaissance? Modern?) this set in?

And without any of this, I could barely begin to form a mental picture of Geoff, beyond the [lovingly detailed] descriptions of his fights. The ending was nicely set up, though, for the astute reader in the preceding paragraphs – I genuinely like how you played that out.

***

A very nice piece. Short and sweet. You kept it simple without confusing the reader. It was a simple story about an assassin getting punished severely for “failing” his mission. Bam, that's it. Very nice job.

There were a few small mistakes, but they weren't awfully noticeable, so nice job there too. I don't have much else to say. You entertained me without making my brain hurt from trying to piece things together and you didn't waste my time. Good job.

***

First of all, there were a few inconsistencies that a quick read through could have prevented as well as some grammatical errors. That said, it was a nice, hefty bit of action that ended perfectly. Besides the few mistakes, it was well written and easily understood. Though I'll admit, I cared nothing for the main character and was hoping he'd just be killed in the end.

***

A somewhat longer disappointment than the previous piece. Certanly more action packed, more intersting to read; but the generic names (chain-guy, pipe-guy, trainer) just read as "author-didn't-care-enough-to-bother."

And our main character gets killed for making a mistake he inevitably learns not to make again. You said right there in the text that he'd learned his lesson, and yet, dead anyway. That's one of the least inspiring things ever. Isn't that the trainers job, to train? Not kill his pupils when they mess up.

Good action descriptions, decent flow, but over all. . . meh.

***

Excellent and quick action filled start. I was pulled in immediately to the story! The fact that it wasn’t just a one-sided affair made it even better and gave some real tasty realism to it. (A little note: Some kind of visual note to time passage would be nice! ~ or *. It was a little difficult to keep a track on where we were.)

Unfortunately, the first bit of real dialogue killed the excitement a little. I understand that they might be cold and hardened criminals but I think the “We heard you killing our friend” should either have been left off or changed to show a little more –something-; Anger, upset, pissed-off-ness! There was a definite lack of descriptions too!

The fight ended really quickly. I had to reread just to make sure I got all the facts straight. A little gorey description here would have been appreciated. How were the bodies laying? Did he rifle through them for money? Was there anything expensive? Did blood run and curdle with the water in the gutter?

I loved the sudden explosion and sword fight that followed! (his defense began to outweigh his defense < Really didn’t make much sense!) Excellent ending also!

***

The whole thing sort of fell -just- short of being what it should have been. Descriptions were good, but... not quite as good as they could have been. The story was pretty alright, but... definitely had improvement room. The ending, though? Good stuff.

***

“He strained against the restraining hand, hissing in effort as the wounded target shoved upwards with as much effort as he could manage.”

Personal preference, but use synonyms when two of the same words are in such close proximity – it makes it seem more professional.


Hmm, you seem to be the polar opposite of Entry One. Nice, vivid descriptions but the dialogue was a letdown comparatively. The story seemed a little meh, kinda over quickly, but the description. I don’t know, this is hard. I’m going to have to give you the thumbs down.