Excerpt of one of my projects

Here's the first chapter of a project I've been working on. Its not any of the ones that I mentioned in the other thread, but I think it's worth sharing. Let me know what you think.

Embrace

Chapter 1


Floating on the surface of the hotel pool, I can look out the skylight and see the stars peeking out through the thin haze that hangs over the night sky. I can see the tremendous, comforting glow of the full moon. This feels serene. The only sound in my ears is the muffled rush of the water, that enveloping, calming sound that drowns out everything, even the noise in my head. In the water, I feel weightless, even the weight on my heart lifts slightly. When you’ve been around as long as I have, you learn to appreciate things like this. It helps make the rest of your life less horrible.

I lift my watch in front of my face, and realize I’ve only got an hour to prepare. Like all perfect moments, this one is fleeting. Every perfect moment you want to enjoy is interrupted by the rest of world calling out to you with responsibilities and interruptions. Climbing out of the pool and gathering my things, I slowly make my way back to my hotel room. On the way back, an elderly lady glares hard at my tattoos. Years ago, I would have said something, but these days she isn’t worth my time or the effort. These days, my time costs too much money to be petty with petty people.
I swipe the keycard to my room three times, and each time the light on the lock blinks red. Grimacing, I try one last time, hoping I don’t have to walk down to the front desk, dripping wet, to ask for another key. Fortunately, this time it works. I try not to miss the days of old fashioned metal keys in hotels, but at least they always worked. Going digital adds layer upon layer of complication, disguised as convenience.

I sit down on one of the hard hotel beds, rubbing my eyes and hanging my throbbing head down toward the floor, wishing I hadn’t drank so much last night. It won’t make this job any easier, that’s for sure. Trying to collect myself, I begin getting dressed and gathering supplies. When you’re this tired and hung-over, every second feels like the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. I’m always tired these days. I’m tied of living this way, of always being on the road. I’m tired of not eating the way I should be. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of being a junkie. Like most junkies though, the craving for the next fix eventually overcomes any guilt or second thoughts about the path you’ve taken. The promise of this fix takes over your mind, and right now, for me, the way to get this fix is the next job. Time to concentrate on the job.

My job is to kill people.

For this job, security is going to be tight. Doesn’t always matter, but it’s best to keep in mind, because the most important thing is to deliver the kill according to the client‘s specification. If you have to kill security or bodyguards, you have to make sure it doesn‘t interfere with the intent of the main kill. You can’t have a clean kill with no body for the main target, but have the bodies of security laying dead all over the place. If the client wants the body to be left mutilated as a warning or a symbol, dead guards are usually a plus.

This one in particular will be easy in this regard, as full exposure of bodies is encouraged, and I get a bonus if they look like they died painfully. For most jobs, the second most important thing is not being seen by anyone who’s going to be left alive. Companies don’t like you killing maids, desk clerks, cooks, and low level management, especially if they own the place the kill takes place in, but if these unfortunate employees are in the wrong place at the wrong time, they have to die, or you’ll be known as sloppy. Even if you can convince the client no one will ever be able to ID you, they still insist that no one sees you, because even the slightest hint, the smallest description can be used against you, or, even worse, against the client. If you botch things for the client, the money gets pulled from your accounts instantly.

The third thing you need to keep in mind is probably the most important for you, but to the client secondary, is your safety. The only time your safety matters to them is if it interferes with rule number two. This isn’t much of a problem for me, but every now and then, someone figures out a way to make things difficult, and I’ve got the scars to prove it.
This job shouldn’t be too bad, but it might get really messy. It would be just a simple in and out, but this guy has an entourage usually reserved for ambassadors or politicians. He’s probably spooked, knows he did something wrong, so he’s surrounded himself with protection. Still, the order is cut and dry. Kill anyone and everyone around the target, and leave his body hanging from the balcony.

My target, like me, is staying in one of the ritzy hotels in town, on the 14th floor, room 1456. This puts the room in the dead center of the hotel, in the extra large suites, which would cause a problem for some people in my line of work, but not someone as experienced as me. I don’t enjoy braggarts and show offs, but I’m the best at what I do and there is no shame in telling people that. If you want a sloppy kill, by all means, you’ll save a few millions dollars, but I guarantee you won’t be satisfied like you would have been if you hired me.
Now then, clothing.

1 black cotton t-shirt
1 pair black khaki SWAT style cargo pants
1 pair black combat boots, composite toe
1 pair black goggle style sunglasses
1 black trench coat

With clothing on, the next step is weapons.
2 9mm berettas
1 pump action shotgun, 12 gauge
2 Uzi SMGs

Once I’ve got these weapons all loaded, holstered, and hidden in my clothing, the final weapon I need before leaving is my sword. At times, a client isn’t happy with a simple gunshot. The symbolism of being killed by a sword is becoming increasingly popular with these business types, and it’s become almost synonymous with hiring me. The sword is an antique, an 11th century katana, every bit as sharp as the day it was made. One swing is enough to cleave a person in half, and the only time I’ve ever had someone pull their own sword on me, it cut right through that as well. Most jobs, I don’t even unholster the guns. This one, I probably won’t be that lucky, but that’s ok, because once I’m done, the message will have been delivered. In this case, my client’s message is simple.

Their message is this. “Don’t release your new line of shoes until 3rd quarter of this year. If you release these shoes early, more incidents like this will happen.”

I am killing a man tonight over a shoe design. This is standard fare, and I haven’t been surprised by the reason for a hit in a long time, not since the time I was hired to kill for a bubblegum recipe.

I’m not leaving a note that lets my client’s competitors know this why their man is dead, but this has been discussed in their business meetings enough times that anyone from the rival company that sees this executive laid out in two pieces will know exactly what is being said. That’s the way these companies are.

You’re probably a bit shocked, or maybe in today’s jaded world, you aren’t. Either way, that’s my job. These big businesses get together all the time in secret meetings, because business has gotten so brutal that good advertising and honest marketing, if there ever was such a thing, doesn’t get you anywhere. These days they have to threaten each other and make pacts on how to run things. As far as I can tell, they allow each other to compete, but if one company tries to do something that would hurt their competition drastically, that’s when the others come in with their ultimatums and threats. When the company refuses to listen, well, that’s where I come in and that’s usually when people die. Only twice has anyone ever called off one of my hits because someone backed down.

Perhaps not the most honorable business, but a certain “Mart” store you may know of has brought me in 250 million dollars in the past year alone, and that’s in hits for and against them. It’s dishonest and scummy, but so is capitalism and, as I told you earlier, I’m a junkie. I’ve got the most expensive habit in the world to feed.

I leave the hotel with half an hour until the scheduled hit. I get to my car and dial the cell phone number the client has left for me. Some hits, I have to follow the target around the entire day to find the best moment to kill them, but most of them, the client has a guy on the inside. He’s trained to talk about everyday things that are actually a code to give away the position of the hit. This guy gets paid almost as much as me, and his job is just as dangerous, especially since there isn‘t a guarantee he‘ll get away when bullets start flying. I’m usually pretty good about not killing the inside man, but sometimes they get in the way.

The cell phone rings twice before he picks up.
“Oh hi honey.” he says, his voice abrupt and calm. I like when they get someone who can remain calm. Nothing makes these jobs more painful than an inside man who’s nervous and dodgy.

“Location.” I say.

“Oh, we have a big day tomorrow, but I made sure to get you and the girls something from the mall.” He replies in a sickly sweet voice. This guy is either really good, or he actually has a wife he has to talk to like this. What he just told me actually means that they are already at the hotel and are preparing to go out to the clubs, and that I’ve got about 15 minutes to begin the hit before they leave. Learning the codes clients set up with these guys can be tricky, but its just another part of what I do well.

“Affirmative.” I reply. 15 minutes is more than enough, as I’ve just pulled up to the hotel. This will be over in 5.

“I’ll see you on Monday when we get back sweetheart, send my love to the girls.” He says, hanging up the phone. His last sentence also told me security has 4 armed guards at the hotel door, and 8 more inside.
The thing that always struck me as funny about hotels is the complete lack of actual security. I pull around to one of the side doors, and slip the keycard my client provided me with out of my pocket. I slide the card, this one actually working the first time, and I’m in the building. I run up the stairs to the 14th floor, and within 30 seconds, I have breached the hotel, and am now a mere 200 feet or less from my target. I glance down the hall rapidly, and I can see 4 of his bodyguards standing outside the room. If you ever go to a hotel and you see these big, muscular guys in suits standing outside of one of the rooms, try and request another room on another floor. You’ll thank me later.

I take in a deep breath, and counting to three, I pull the Uzis from their holsters and rush the guards.

Explosions burst from both barrels of the guns, lighting the hallway like a strobe. The first guard goes down before they even see me, a single Uzi round to his head plastering his brains and sunglasses to the wall as the rest of him hits the floor.
The other three turn toward me, pulling pistols from their jackets, realizing they should have watched the end of the hallway better. all three I drop to one knee and spray the Uzis in a few quick bursts until all three of them drop and stop moving. I run down the hall, pushing one of the bodies aside before raising my foot and kicking the door down.

The suite is quite large, but it’s still only a hotel room, and my target doesn’t have many places to hide, other than behind the Asian themed furniture that costs more than most of this hotel’s workers make In a year. The only sound in the room is the stereo, which is pumping obnoxious dance music at full volume.

The room appears empty, but I know there has to be bodyguards hidden behind every bed, couch, and counter in the room. For almost a thirty seconds I stand at ready in the doorway before taking a step into the room. Even through the cacophony of the music, I catch a tiny, almost inaudible click from behind a recliner. Fortunately for me, I’ve trained my ears to listen for the sound of guns being drawn, hammers being cocked, and even the pull of the trigger. I dodge back out the door for a moment, just in time to avoid the pellet spray of a shotgun. Usually, when they bring this much security, that means either they got tipped off, the inside man got found out, or the target is extremely paranoid.

I fly back into the room, this time met by the swarm of guards. There is a lot of them, but they’re sluggish, unprepared. If these guys were tipped off, it wasn’t in time, and they probably don’t expect one man to do so much damage without being easily killed. Its a common mistake.

The hotel room is getting torn apart, and the sound of gunfire all but drowns out the annoying techno music blaring from the stereo system. Just to alleviate my headache slightly, I fire a stray bullet into the system before ducking behind a corner.

I can hear the target panicking, screaming orders in what sounds like French at his guards, only 5 of which are still standing. I put the Uzis away and draw the 12 gauge. 2 of the guards are clumped together on the left, the other 3 to the right, forming a human shield around the target.
I pop around the corner and blast 2 of the guards, pump the shotgun, and come around the corner again, aiming at the remaining men forming the human shield. They open fire on me, but I twist around their sloppy, badly aimed shots and bring them to the ground.

The target has given up, cowering on the ground. I walk over to him and grab him by the throat. He looks past my goggles and into my eyes, and he knows exactly why I’m here, and he knows he’s about to die. He looks like he’s trying to plead with me, but his vocals chords are frozen in terror.
I always feel a tiny pang of remorse at this point, but it gets swept away by the urge to feed my addiction. As I told you before, you can get a junkie to do anything for a fix, and I’m no exception.

I lift my head up and extend my fangs. Upon seeing this, this man’s last thoughts will be those of confusion, fear, and pure horror. I clench my teeth together in preparation for a split second, then plunge them into the neck of the marketing executive, and begin draining his body of blood.


Even the undead need to make a living.

Hmm, could you add paragraph breaks? It makes it easier to read.

Will do. I didn't realize when I copied it it would mash it all together.

Bump? Nothing? So terrible its not worth commenting? Don't quit my day job?

I Read it. Ok so is there any real life examples of this sort of thing happening? Realism: Are you going for sensationalized action or a degree of realism? Research: Is there any basis for any of this in real life? Personal experiences?
Personally i think you should make sure you include character development especially when regarding the whole thing. Character driven novels are often more widely acclaimed than plot driven novels.

Good work. Keep writing.