10 names.

10 names and quite a little bargaining chip.

Always work to be done.

=====================================================================

She moved teasingly slow, a true vixen at that, the tight one piece dress she wore slid listless to the floor as she stepped out of it, fully exposing the curves of her body as she leaned over the desk, arching herself to show them off.

He chuckled lightly, watching her every move.

She toyed with the radio, some kind of slow jam, he couldn't really hear it as he watched her drop her *CENSORED* to the floor and bring it up slowly.

Slow it down baby, slow it down.

She turned and drew a hand up along her thigh and up along her back, her lip held between teeth as she smiled staring back.

He grinned too, watching her turn around slowly.

She slowly waltzed, a sexy strut forwards along the floor, letting her hips swing side to side, her hands crawling up from her waist up her front, along her neck and flipping her hair.

That's good right there.

Her hands moved behind her back slowly reaching for the clasp.

That's the money shot.

Darminian said aloud as he squeezed the trigger, the bullet tearing from the barrel of the rifle and spiraling toward its target, the fingers just reaching the clasp as the bullet tears through the window, cracks forming from its entry. The curvy vixen now able to show off her brains too - or at least how well they serve as wall paint.

A man leapt from the couch in the room and ran to girl on the floor. He paused for a moment - his vision leaving the body and looking up to the window. The second shot rang out and left his body lifeless as it fell to the floor, next to the girl.

Darminian packed up the rifle and headed down the fire escape, the metal clanking the only sound that he could hear, his feet echoed as they met the ground, he pulled out his phone and dialed the operator as he continued down the alleyway.

 ===================

Eight to go.

Why was six afraid of seven?

Because seven ate (eight) nine!

EDITED TO ADD: ((Great piece, Darm! very Frank Miller-esque!))

Me likey..that story totally got me wet... \m/><\m/

Number 8

================

The bubbles fizzed lightly before disappearing into nothingness, the light froth they had been born out dissolved and left nothing out of the ordinary in the sea around the liquid where the foreign object had rested seconds before.

He carried the two glasses over to the table and set them down. Darminian sat down on one side, a curious plump man sat across from him.

Mmm, I do love scotch, don't you?

‘It's all code' - as they say.

The plump man chuckled slightly downing the content of the tumbler from the table, Darminian picked up his own and sipped it. His eyes moved to the man across from hims' glass- only for a moment as he watched him drink.

So I'm not quite sure why you requested to have this meeting with me, I mean were far from associates - though I suppose enemies isn't the right term either.

I have my reasons, I am a businessman after all. It's in that regard, that when I see an opportunity for us to both benefit, I do what I can.

That's never been your normal policy - in fact I seem to recall you constantly taking the path that was profitable for you and quite the opposite for me.

Well things change... they always do.

Mm, I'm not quite so sure about that- I'm not inclined to believe people change - someone like you especially.

All you know about me is that it's not in your best interest to oppose me, and if we evaluate our situation with a little more clarity there is no doubt we can both benefit. Now my offer is on the table, it's your choice to make.

Oh now, now. Please don't rush me, you seem so eager to have me accept, it leads me to believe you are in some kind of trouble. That means I can probably hold out for a much bigger cut of what ‘we' would both be making.

Darminian smiled slightly as he looked down at his watch, seconds to go. He picked up the tumbler from his side of the table and swirled it lightly before setting it down again. He leaned back in his chair and stretched, looking around the room. Books covered the walls, a large window to the right of them both. It was extremely similar to Beryl's apartment as he took it in.

Do you like the new place Kessel?

Eh, it certainly isn't shabby.

The plump man reached behind the chair he sat in and into his jacket that was hanging from the back of seat. His hand emerged clutching - rather shakily - a large revolver, which he pointed at Darminian.

It also isn't new.

He replied pulling back the hammer of the behemoth, now shaking more noticeably within his hand.

Who the hell are you?

Doesn't matter.

He tried to raise the gun, the shaking more violent then before.

Answer me *CENSORED* it!

Saliva flew from his lips as he shouted, the same saliva now slipping out over his lips and falling in a thin steady stream staining his suit.

I am your end, your death.

You going to kill me!?!?

He tried to chuckle but a gurgling cough came from his lips, spilling more of his saliva now taking on a more sickly dark color, his suit absorbing it, the white shirt taking on blotches and stains.

I killed you with that drink.

You .... I'll.....

The gun fell from his hand, his body from the chair, black liquid pooling around his head as the last noises that left his lips were a series of coughs and choking noises. Darminian got to his feet and reached towards his face, he gripped it for a moment before removing a metallic device that resembled a mouth piece for scooba gear.

Gotta hand it to you old man, you were smarter then I gave you credit for. That being said, neurotoxins make fools of us all... I would have preferred a more honorable kill but uh...

He reached down and lifted the mans head by his hair and stared down at the paled face and dark colored lips and empty eyes.

Eh... You didn't deserve it.

He left the lifeless body on the floor and moved to the elevator, looking back only once as he pressed the button, he stepped onto the elevator and left the apartment.

Another bubble dissapearing into a the sea.

===================

Seven to go.

7

=========

Lucky number 7, not much luck for the man behind the number I suppose. But such is the case when your time is up. I mean you can't be that lucky if you come up on someone's hit list, though I guess luck plays a factor in whose hit list it is.

The contractor must have some kind of sense of humor, compulsive gambling exile. The guy used to play his part in systematic probability, must have ripped off one too many people. That wasn't the reason for his name's presence on the list; they all had committed the same crime, though by now more than most had forgotten, then again perhaps most had just not thought of it as a crime.

It didn't matter, not now, not then. Blood can't be un-spilled as they say. The car pulled into the parking garage in west view. The garbage was everywhere, the exiles crawled around every corner and the sky was the same tainted color it always was in West view. That mix of broken cloud grey and pollution rust clung to the sky as the wind cut through his jacket. He slammed the car door and walked towards the casino -  

Another one of these sort of joke places, a few craps and cards tables, a few dealers, a less then respectable bar and even an arcade. You could find them all over West view, but he was in this one cause he hadn't been thrown out yet. I grabbed a drink from the bar - some terrible tasting beer on tap. I leaned against the wall watching him at the card table, he was cheating, and he wasn't very good at it, but blue pills seemed to get dumber every time I see them in action.

He was practically card counting on his fingers, but running off digits that no one else could even equate let alone figure out with a calculator. Worst of all he other cards on him, literally tricks up his sleeves. The problem with these small time casinos is that if there was a bigger joke then the revenue they brought in, it was the security. My eyes caught a glimpse of a security guard chatting up a gal behind the security fence and I chuckled.

My observations were interrupted by the exiles cursing, seems he'd lost a hand - which boggled my mind but worked to my advantage, he scooped the remnants of his chips and tossed them in his pocket as he got up from the table grumbling, another person filled his spot immediately. The tone of the place was brutal; it was all the desperation and greed of casino without the flashing lights to cover up how sick a place it truly was. It was the famous actor without all the make up, editing and plastic surgery, it was in all honestly a glossed over *poop* whole.

I watched him walk by me and head to the bar, he squeezed in, quite easily displaying his distaste with.... Well everything. He ordered a drink and waltzed past me to the arcade, muttering about the cost of drinks in ‘these' places. I placed the beer on a nearby table and casually strolled to the arcade, a blue pill was on his way out when I got to the doorway. Looking inside it was easy to see the arcade was a part of the same establishment.

Two machines were working, 2 were out of order, and the change machine had a sign on it that said out of order. My lucky friend was smashing away at some football game, muttering about cheating computer opponents. I sort of chuckled as I leaned against the wall opposite him for a moment just watching him. He was really a joke, nothing compared to what he had once been, not capable of some of the heists he'd once pulled off. Then again I suppose there had been 9 other people to help him out.

I shook my head as I walked up behind him and grabbed his, I couldn't tell if he was just unusually weak or if I had really just surprised him but I smashed his face into the machines screen with relative ease. His hands at first had reached for my own, but as he impacted with the screen and felt me pull him back he put his against the machine for leverage. I threw him backwards into the one behind us, watching him smack into it with a lard thud, the change in the machine shaking loudly upon impact.

Blood obscured most of his face, but he managed to reach into his coat for a weapon, a side kick connected with the wrist inside his coat, pinning him between my foot and the machine. A sickening crunch that made me smile told me his wrist was broken, the impact carried through to his chest and left him winded as fell to the ground, blood pouring from his face as his back rested against the machine. He moaned in agony as I squatted down in front of him, I grabbed his arm and pulled it from his coat - he moaned louder in the agony of me moving his arm, as I watched the magnum he'd been reaching for slide across the floor as I let it go. It flopped to the floor awkwardly bending where there was no joint. The cards that had been up his sleeve spluttered from it, most of them face down.

I interrupted his continued moaning.

Do you have any idea who I am?

He groaned as he used his still working arm to reach up and wipe the blood from his face.

Can't say that I do, but I know you don't know who I am.

Oh yeah?

I replied, he tried to smile, but with the blood and missing teeth, its affect was lost.

Yeah, cause you have no idea who you are messing with.

I doubt that Feliz, I really do.

I said as I took it as my turn to grin, his vanished. His look then twisted into one of fear as I withdrew the silenced pistol. I pulled the hammer back and put the round into his head, his body slid down the console slicked with his blood. The coin return punctured with the shot as quarters spilled out across his body. I looked down at him and noticed the single card that had landed upright.

The ace of spades.

I chuckled leaving my last words to hang over the dead body.

‘Everyone's luck runs out sooner or later.'

=======================

Six to go.

((also, i don't enjoy the cliche of the ace of spades card, and although i do like the song by motor head the reason it was that card was the association of the ace of spades with death, just for clarification sake.))

you deserve to be published , Darm ./twothumbsup \m/><\m/

(Make your own MxO based novels and chapter books and profit from that *poop*))

Appreciators of the work, admirers of art, how strange we should find ourselves at the hilts of the swords of today and tomorrow. The paintbrushes whose pallet is crimson and canvas is flesh. Art is - as they say, open to interpretation, but I will forever be a sellout of my art, not a true artist, though.... To say I don't enjoy it would be a lie.

~

Rumors flock and stir as more become aware of what's happening around these places, some of the group he has been ‘dealing' with are taking it upon themselves to hide, they don't know the order, but they know he's not done.

~

Six

=======

The muscle, the keystone behind brute force and intimidation, this one wasn't so cliché to have a nick name like knuckles or ox, but he may as well have. Darminian had tracked him down to this condemned building in west view. Run of the mill 2 story building, rooms absolutely a mess, garbage all over the place, stuff no one would ever use or see scattered about the rooms randomly, and the rooms themselves divided by little more then beams where walls once stood.

The interior of this building was like so many others in this city, and yet not now, not today, today this one housed something of interest, number 6. Darminian pulled himself up the rusty pipe that clung to the wall, unsure of how it wasn't collapsing under his weight, getting to the roof he moved through the door to the stairwell. As he moved down the stairwell he withdrew the silenced pistol, cocking it he moved slowly to the second floor and through the doorway.

He moved slowly, listening to every creak and every wheeze of the building, the rodents in the floor boards, the bugs trying to get close to the lamps, the wind rushing through cracks of the building and then the steps. Light steps taking back and fourth - paces almost, from a nearby room.

He moved forward through the hallway, his eyes falling on a wall of the room, the movement stopped as he'd moved closer, he held completely still, watching - waiting. The faintest creak told him what he suspected, he was close, however 6 was aware someone was near him. Darminian moved slowly, circling the room, looking for a fatal flaw or crack, perhaps a hole in the wall to grant him a shot and make this one that much easier - no such luck however.

He pressed himself against the wall and listened, his hand against the wall, pressing his ear to it he listened again. The sound that caught him this time however wasn't from within the room, an ancient floor board beneath him cried out as he leaned forward, he grit his teeth and looked down in loathing at the board - but before he could even curse it within his mind, the wall he was against exploded in a cloud of dust and splinters.

Muscle can only be scared so long before it realizes what it is, and does what it does best, the two flew to the ground, the silenced pistol sliding across the floor, the brute grappling Darminian from the ground.

"I was wonderin' when you'd show up." He said as he raised a hand in the air and brought it down in Darminians' direction.

Darminian elbowed the other arm holding him in place and managed to shift in time to see the massive fist rip through the floor where his head had been laying. The massive fist pulled itself from the floor and grabbed the collar of Darminians' jacket, the large figure pushed himself off the floor and lifted Darminian by the collar off the ground, dangling him a foot above the floor.

"I would have gotten to you sooner but I've been busy with your pals." Darminian replied bringing his arms up again and hammering the inside of the brutes elbows - his arms gave way enough to drop Darminians feet to the floor, gripping the sleeves of the massive arms he through his head forward butted the brute breaking his glasses and by the look of the blood that poured out of it, his nose. The brute stumbled backwards trying to catch himself, as he reached to pull the remnants of the shades from his face, Darminian made a move towards the pistol laying feet away.

His fingers were inches from it when he felt the brute collide with him - the two smashed through the familiar remnants of a wall. More splinters and dust filled the air, the smell of mold and decay filling their nostrils. The two rolled across the ground, Darminian getting to his feet as the brute before him stood up brushing himself off.

"I'm going to enjoy breaking every bone in your body."

"You can't even count that high Dmitri."

The large form moved surprisingly quickly as he sprinted towards Darminian again, this time missing him as he dove out of the way. Darminians' eyes searched the room for something, anything to use on the behemoth before him.

"I'm going to kill you!" He yelled this time putting his weight into a punch that ripped through the ‘wall' behind him. (Wasn't much of a wall since their creation of a doorway) Darminian had ducked under the blow and grabbed a nearby chair, turning he attempted to smash it against the large form before him. He succeeded in light of smashing the chair, but that was it. The massive fist collided with Darminians' torso sending him flying backwards across the room.

The large exile approached slowly again, the sort of amusement that was with him before, gone now as he large hands reach down and wrapped around Darminians' neck tightly, he probably could have snapped it, but instead wanted to watch him suffer as he slowly began to squeeze the life from him. He grunted and choked feeling the air slip from him - feeling the air flow cut to his brain - he gripped the exiles wrists uselessly tugging at first, he could feel the darkness descending upon him, fleeting consciousness as he stared into the reddened face before him with gritted teeth.

As the forced sleep became more and move undeniable something stirred him a little, a warm drop of crimson landed on his face, a drop of blood from the exiles broken nose. With what little air he had left he swung the base of his palm upwards and collided with the mangled part of the exiles face. There was another sickening crunch as more blood seemed to explode from his nasal cavity as the large hands immediately released their grip. Scrambling across the floor he managed to pull himself to his feet, coughing and wheezing, looking around the room he noted the nearby window and approached it, punching through it, he ripped a large shard of glass from it and turned on his opponent to see him getting to his feet, his nose pouring blood and looking as though it was going into his head as opposed to out.

"You're going to pay for that." The exile growled in a nasal sort of way.   

"I have to look at it, I already am." Darminian replied with a wheeze as he gripped the shard of glass behind his back tightly.

The brute took a step forward and stopped, his head turned and looked back towards the pistol they had ignored up until now. He turned in place and began to run, Darminian had already started when the exiles back was turned, time slowed as the two ripped through the molasses that was this effect, the dust from their foot steps floating up menacingly as they continued to sprint. The exiles fingers wrapped around the pistol and wrenched it from the floor as he turned to make his shot - the pistol flew upwards the barrel moving towards Darminian.

The shard of glass within his hand cut through the air quickly, this slow motion race of weapons between the two. The round in the gun exited slowly spiraling through the barrel and crawling through the silencer, spiraling right into Darminians' side, the trail of blood followed it out as the bullet passed right through him. An equal spray of blood followed a shard of glass that had traced a deep line along the brutes' neck. Crimson slowly poured from the small wound as the splash of blood flew towards the wall slowly.

Everything came back to normality as the blood splashed against the wall staining it, Darminian stumbled backwards and the exile reached a hand to his neck. The blood spilled through his fingers as he raised the gun and fired another round at Darminian this one catching him in the shoulder, he tried for a third but couldn't hold the gun at the same height, the shot missed entirely as he fell to his knees, his eyes so wide now feeling the weight of his lids, the pistol slipped from his fingers as he collapsed on the floor. Darminian did the same, as he reached for the health pills in his jacket, he popped a handful into his mouth and passed out.

His last thought before unconscious-ness finally gripped him was:

"I hate the muscle."

==============

5 to go.

((not quite sure how I like this one, although I did find a necessity in having a ‘muscle' character to eliminate, I think the fight got a bit over the top but I enjoyed the ending, and I've got a unique idea for number 5.))