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M.S.R.P. II • View topic - The Past Always Haunts the Living Dead

M.S.R.P. II

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PostPosted: Mon May 08, 2006 3:51 am 
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The Past Always Haunts the Living Dead.

The small dust trail flowed into the air like a wave behind the quick moving land rover; the roads long used to vehicles still gave to their gods of sand and let the granules flow forth into the air. Behind the rover a smaller vehicle with just two wheels and a large rider approached the side, the bike whining at full throttle. Bursts of sand randomly blew into the air as lead slugs landed around the bike, missing completely because of the cover by the sand. Anton's grip on the throttle pushed it to the max, he lowered his head further and gained speed. In front of him were the men who had just killed the other four with Anton in a diamond smuggling deal; they took the Don's money and the Diamonds. Ahead lay 50 more miles of desolate roadway until a small outpost that had a gas station, restaurant, and watering hole for the usual form of transportation. Mid day heat was at its worst; the men in the Land Rover were all suffering from it while Anton remained cool on the bike traveling at 130 KMH and up. He stayed hidden behind the dust cloud until a turn in the road left him exposed; one bullet hit the handlebars and nearly threw him off balance, but he corrected and stayed the course. The bike's motor was running hot; the Rover's was hotter. It wasn't long before something overheated on the Rover and a mechanical whine began to get louder, they were pushing it and they knew it. Anton pulled from under the riding suit a small handgun; he quickly put his hand back on the bar while holding the gun. It was a difficult thing to do over that terrain, so there was no chance to aim until they reached a flat, or pavement. None was in sight of course, so it was left up to luck if he could get a shot off.

The mechanical whine grew louder, and then something made a loud pop inside the hood, followed by rumbling. The man in the front looked to the others and shouted in Arabic "Get the guns" the temperature on the gauge began to go up as the engine grew hotter and hotter, oil burned and pistons began to wear as their protective lubricant was burned away. Smoke flew from the exhaust and Anton could smell victory, it grew black until the engine froze up. The momentum of the Land Rover kept them going as the driver tried to turn over the engine, the pistons had melted inside and were now completely fused; it wasn't going to turn over… Anton slowed down with them realizing that when the Rover stopped four armed men with automatic Russian made rifles would jump out and tear him apart with bullets. That wasn't going to fly with the young doctor. He let the bike slow down rapidly as they smoldered on ahead with thick black smoke flowing from the hood and tail pipe, gradually that subsided as the engine cooled down; it was 115 Fahrenheit outside at the time, middle of the day. Anton's bike had a storage compartment and he carried with him a Smith and Wesson .45 revolver, along with a disassembled rifle with 30 rounds, it was an old bolt action so it would be slow fire. He slowed to a stop and watched the dust trail gradually subside along with the shining reflection of the vehicles windshields movement that glistened in the distance. Anton's attire consisted of a riders suit in tan, along with a tan helmet. He had been brought along as insurance; back at the meeting point he'd hidden while the meeting went forward; he knew that after the gunfire no one would be alive but regardless he checked only to find bloodstained sand and slit throats mixed with shell casings. He'd ridden immediately after the Arabs who tried to screw over the Don and his family.

Anton grabbed a small pair of binoculars and adjusted the lenses so that he could see them. They were looking for him but his outfit concealed him against the deserts sand; the bike was also a custom painted tan-ish yellow. Anton grabbed the rifle parts and assembled it, to keep the barrel clean he wrapped a condom over the tip and secured it with a rubber band, the revolver was under the rider's jacket. Although it was blindingly hot in the desert his riders suit reflected much of the light and protected his skin; the helmet was well ventilated and kept his head from becoming a fried egg. Trekking through the desert wasn't the idea of fun he had in mind but the four Arab men were doomed now; he needed to insure that their demise was complete and all materials recovered. Through the desert without a soul around he trekked; being smarter than others he remember to bring plenty of water for the day and the next as well. The sun began to wane and follow to its westerly bed while Anton crawled closer to the men, once they were 300 yards away he lay flat on his stomach and pilled the rubber wrapper off the barrel of the rifle. No glove, no love, as they say… Anton's message contained no love at all. The small sack on his back contained the binoculars and the scope, not to mention a small camera, 3 canteens, bullets, a tan thermal sheet, and a sandwich. As evening set upon Anton, the sand a still extremely hot surface that was kept from hurting the man by his clothing, he had decided to attach the scope and align it along the set grooves to make sure it was accurate. He aimed the weapon and arched upward for the 300-yard shot.

The Driver, leaning over the engine and opened hood of the old Rover suddenly lurched forward as blood shot through his chest at the right side, the other two men looking at the engine with him looked up in shock when the Driver pulled himself back up and looked down at the blood. He screamed in terror as the other two men ducked to the floor; using the car to prop himself up he heard the bang and turned to see nothing but sand. Another bullet whizzed by his head and cracked the glass on the window. A second later another bang, but a moment after that bang a mist of red flew from the center of the drivers chest as the bullet passed through him; ricocheted off his spine and tore through more organs before stopping inside his kidney. That shot was the lethal nail in the coffin; blood spilled forth from his sliced arteries and pooled in the lungs; his kidney bled out into his bladder a massive amount of blood; so as he collapsed he urinated blood into the once clean khaki pants. On the sand he lay gasping final breaths and moaning out to Allah, his three comrades all on the ground hiding. The waves of heat made it difficult for Anton to get another clear shot, so to make it known that someone was indeed after them he fired once more into the Land Rover, shattering the other window in the back passenger's side. Night fell and the air cooled rapidly, giving the lone sniper, and doctor, a much-needed advantage. He trekked back to his motorcycle and pushed it along to a good position to snipe from; 200 yards away now; Anton dug a shallow hole and hid the bike in it; along with himself, he'd also bent the handlebars after loosening them sideways so that nothing stuck out and used the seat as a stable prop for the gun so instead of laying down he could sit without detection. Over his head and body he used the tan sheet of cloth to hide from the sun, staying much cooler than the surroundings. All he needed to do was wait for the sun to come up from the east, perfect lighting.

Anton slept 4 hours before he felt light on his eyes; quickly he aimed the rifle and looked for any sign of the three remaining men… He saw the corpse but the other three were hidden behind the vehicle. That's when he saw it, the small gleam of metal. One of them had set their cup down and being closer he could make out more detail; he was the third man out sitting behind the engine while the other two were behind tires. Anton aimed and fired off a shot that produced a red mist. He fired again, and again got a red mist and saw an arm fly from one of the tires; a man leaned over to grab the one who was sitting. Again a red cloud erupted but this time from the arm of the man helping the other already injured Arab. He recoiled it quickly and got up with a rifle and began firing blindly at Anton; one puff of sand came terribly close; so another red puff of blood flew from the man firing; the firing ceased and all at once he collapsed on the earth without an eye. There were only two men left, one shot twice in the lower back and the other was still hiding behind the other tire. The injured man was now behind the first tire again and Anton chanced his luck with a few shots at the tire; but he saw no results from them, although he did manage to pop a tire. The day grew hotter and the sun began to cause the same disturbance with the waves of heat, he decided to put the rifle down and hide under the cloth, at nightfall he moved around the vehicle with his bike and dug a new hole; a semi circle around the vehicle so that instead of the sun coming up to his right it was to his left; same technique and same vista, although now his stomach rumbled… he ate the sandwich saved and drank an entire canteen expecting that he would very well return this day. When daylight gave him the view he desired he found that one man was still sitting on the tire; he was dead with 4 bullet holes in his chest. Clearly those were from the shots into the tire, and he could count all 4 because they all were bloody; as for where the other man was Anton had no good idea but he did see that the door was open.

With the binoculars he scanned the horizon and saw a black speck in the distance. Anton ran to the car with his gun drawn and saw that the money and the diamonds were gone; he grabbed the bread that was left behind and another canteen. In the back he found a 10-gallon gas container, still full and fresh; it would have served them well except for the engine being dead. He scrambled back to the bike; packed his things and drove. The still cool morning air made it much nicer to travel in, cool to the feel. Across the desert plain he rode his steed of steel to the sounds of cool wind whispering its final breaths as waves of warmer air embraced and heated up the land. Anton stayed out of rang of automatic fire and just followed the man all day, he would rather let the man kill himself with exhaustion than risk his own life to catch up, and then kill… Nightfall came and Anton was happily enjoying the bread and water he found in the Land Rover when he heard a yell. Running toward him was the Arab; who apparently thought that by shooting an automatic and screaming he would kill the hunter, as if the hunter would become the hunted. A few clicks, and a loud ping after the bang of the expended cartridge being unloaded left the desert silent but for a few wisps of wind that caressed the killer's face. The bullet had simply gone through the forehead above the right eye, and out the back. He approached the corpse with caution and fired another shot into the head of the dead man, grabbed the bag of diamonds and the cash loaded both into his sack and drove back to the Land Rover. He used the gas to refill his own near-empty tank and had a rather uneventful journey back to the small town. But rather than tell them the deal went sour instead he decided to keep the cash… he brought the diamonds back but said that the cash used in the transaction had been taken by another group of Arabs, the amount being 500,000 in American dollars, at the time it seemed like a lot. In Cairo he deposited the cash in a new account and left it there.

A few months after this Anton was summoned to the Don's office in light of his excellent work, during the time between Egypt and the Don's new vendetta with the family who orchestrated the Diamond Massacre plot Anton had consummated his marriage to Belle and she was expecting. He slowly kissed her on the brow and straightened his back, towering over her he smiled and knew she loved him as much as he to her... Anton opened the door to the Don's office and took a seat on a small wooden office chair that was in front of his desk; the older portly Don sat in his plush leather smoking a fat cigar imported from Cuba. Of course this was his style, being so much richer than any other family in Palermo... "Hi Frank" Anton said with a smirk, the older man only let a few people call him by his first name; Anton wasn't supposed to be one of them but had earned enough leeway with the Don's daughter to do so... plus he saved the Families Diamonds which were sold at a small Jewish man's Jewelers; earning well over the 500,000 that had gone "missing". With a sigh and then a deep long breath the Don began by sliding over a large brown envelope, no writing on it, no markings at all "Inside the envelope is a folder and inside the folder is your target; I need this man eliminated. Don't ask why; all you need to know is that he orchestrated that lil' ol' mishap out in Egypt." Frank nodded and shook Anton's hand, not waiting for a reply or response. "Just get it done" were the last words Anton heard on the way out of the room; he found Belle in a stoic mood and he kissed her slowly "I have to go to America, I shouldn't be long, but if I am please know that my love is yours forever" he slowly caressed her across the face and again leaned down and whispered into her ear his own variation on a combination of an old Shakespeare poem "My love is a fever - longing till for that which longer nurses this disease, in pain I do not love thee with mine eyes - they be a thousand heresies, but 'tis my heart that loves what they desire"; afterwards he kissed her again slowly upon the lips and before he drew back up to his full height she said to him "For you my love, for you I feel, forever we should be",he nodded and left the house for the car that awaited him outside.

She looked at the door her tears in her eyes; flooding out what she could see, it had been three months and there was no word if he even was alive. Footsteps sounded and reverberated through the hallway, she arose with her hand over her womb; the child inside was growing steadily larger and she was due in four more months. She met the man in the hallway, he was much older and was portly, dressed lavishly while she was just in a nightgown of silk "Papa, has there been news, have you heard at all of him? When will he be back?" The old man looked at his daughter and sighed, letting her cling to him while weeping about her husband who was sent off to the States for 'business' "is he alive papa?" she asked. Slowly he looked at her after pulling her arms off of him slowly and said to her "Anton is a strong man; I sent him there because he can do business, I know that he's not been heard of for three months, if there is nothing by Friday I will send someone, please don't worry my daughter" The old man knew better though, he knew that the man must be dead or even worse, found another woman.

The old boss walked into his office and sat back into his chair, slowly he spun on the axis waiting for a call he expected from the states. Finally, hours passed by and the old phone's bell rang to life as connections from the USA were routed through the air and to the European facilities, the delay on the phone was about a second but from the call he received there was word that an informant had been caught and Anton was indeed alive… He could say nothing or else Anton could of course be given away; not even his own daughter could know Anton was alive. He hated seeing her so distraught but this was business and the old man would make sure that Anton was there for the birth. Although Anton was the old Don's son in law, it was his grandchild being born; there would be a celebration to top all others. Should he be given a grandson it would be an even more extravagant celebration, one that would rival all. The Baptism would be held at no less than the mission in Prima. Sighing once again the old don leaned back into the soft giving leather and slid his hands behind his head…

A splash of blood hit the metal wall as another fist landed from Anton's hand to the man's cheek. "Tell me where he is" Anton said calmly with his dark voice; his broad features and handsome face reflected menacingly in the angled light. "Tell me and we don't need to continue further, I will let you go" Anton lied with the velvet voice unmarred and without hissing. Smooth were his features, young and full of life, Anton needed to finish this job and get home to his wife, she was four months away and he wanted to be there for the birth of his first child, they thought it could be a son but Anton didn't care, it was his child regardless boy or girl. Another fist slammed the man back and he looked at Anton with anger; it was worthless to beat him more. Only a frightened man with something to loose would tell the truth, if he was frightened and had nothing to loose he would lie, if he had nothing to loose and was angry it would be a waste of energy… Anton pulled back the hammer on the revolver and aimed it and the man's head "Any last words?" the man looked back and said, "Fuck you".

The blast came from the gun and the bullet traveled into the front of his skull, it blew bone into the head as it passed through and traveled out the back, cracking a huge fragment of bone out with a baseball sized portion of brain matter that splattered on the wall. The corpse in the chair twitched and slumped over, still twitching its fingers for just a brief moment as the signals in the nervous system were killed and overloaded at the same time. A silence that seemed cold remained as the larger man left the room and a door closed with a deep clank. No one would find the body because the storage unit would later be "lost" at sea.

She was crying again, this time it was with an older woman that was with her, this time it was her consoling her, her stomach was expanded outward as the womb grew larger for the ever growing child, four months it had been since he left and there had been no word from Anton "Mama, did he find another woman?" She looked back at her daughter and reassured her "no, no, that's not it, that's not what has happened" She cried back to the older woman "What then mama, what has happened then?" There was no answer, and there would be none, no one knew…

Standing outside the door the old don listened and walked back to his office, picking up the phone he called ahead to America and made sure that the plan would go forward so that Anton could return home soon, his daughter was growing more distraught and he couldn't take watching it. He broke the rule of involving family with business, but he did not want to loose his grandchild just because his daughter was hysterical…

A loud bang sounded and the five men who were walking ducked down, all of them afraid that it was a gunshot until the old automobile banged again as the cold engine stayed alive, backfiring on the old muffler sounded louder than anything else. It drove off and they continued walking along to the restaurant; it was winter and the sky was getting darker. The man in the middle of the other four was dressed nice and much plumper, grinning as they entered the restaurant. Anton came out dressed as a waiter and served them after another man named Karl had seated them. Karl nodded as they passed each other and said quietly in Sicilian "He's the one." A few minutes passed by and the meal was served, the soup had already been eaten and Anton had watched as the man ate every single drop. Watching him closely he saw the paleness and sweat start to bead up as the laxative took on its most ominous tone; from there the man was running to the restroom as Anton slid into the stall next to the empty one. The man rushed in and was relieving his painful bowels violently. Anton had given him three times the normal dosage of a regular prescription laxative.

As the man shit violently, smells of death emanated from the room. Carefully from his vest Anton pulled out the revolver. In a minute it would all be over, that car that had backfired earlier was now parked outside the window and the side. It had been left too cool down again so that more backfiring would occur. He heard it revved and soon a large bang was heard as the engine to it roared to life. Earlier in the day Anton had it tested, and the noise from it was actually louder than the revolver he held; so in fact the old auto would be more likely heard than the gun. He got up as another backfire was heard, and turned the corner; as the man moaned out in pain Anton kicked in the door aimed the revolver and fired a shot between the eyes. The gun was hidden again and more backfiring from the car occurred. One of his men flung open the door of the bathroom and saw Anton there washing his hands with a grimace on his face; quickly drying his hands he ran out of there holding his nose; the guard who had come in to check took one whiff of the noxious odor of the room and left also.

Karl and Anton had completed the tasks and had to now get home from the heart of New York… A taxi carried them both to the harbor to a ship bound for Sicily after it stopped in Brazil and Australia. It was a part of the "Olive Trade" they would act as crewmen on the ship. In Brazil they helped offload heroin and pick up cocaine imported from another Latin American source… Down the coast the large ship traveled as weeks went by, offloading its innocent shipments of material goods with its 'other' not so innocent confectionary drugs… Further south it offloaded a shipment to Argentina and they were cleaning the ship out for the trip to Australia so that when inspected it would be clean. As Anton and Karl swept the deck off on the massive ship they both heard motorboats, then gunfire. Anton reached under his shirt for the revolver he had hidden and crouched down while Karl pulled out his own stub-nose colt. Anton motioned for Karl to follow as the authorities raided the bow of the ship and boarded. The thirty man crew in the ship began running up from below grabbing guns as these so called 'authorities' began mowing them down with automatics. It seemed that hundreds were attacking the huge shipping vessel. It was obvious these people attacking were not government; that they were gorilla… Kaleshnikov fire sounded closer while Anton and Karl crouched and slowly walked to the other end of the vessel. They had to avoid the guerrilla soldiers of course… it would be useless for them to help a smuggling ship. When they had reached the aft of the large old ship they entered one of the doors to the cargo hold. Down below they began rummaging through the material items stored, the ship had quite a few bulkheads so it wasn't hard to find the cargo, but it was hard to find what was needed; Karl went to one of the grated doors and grabbed the manifest list; skimming it he pointed out to Anton something of interest. Above there was yelling and repeated screaming along with gunfire and even an explosion. Quickly Anton and Karl found the crate; upon finding it they pried it open. Inside they grabbed out an inflatable raft and ran back up the stairs; at the top they looked around and were the only ones left. Anton took the lead and crept along slowly leading Karl to the shallower end of the ship, he pointed down and then jumped in; shortly followed by Karl. Yelling and screaming was suddenly head followed by another long maintained blast of automated Kalashnikov fire. Silence and water, Anton whispered back to Karl "Head for the lights, when we're closer open up the raft" the water was warm still from the day's heat; but after a few hundred yards Karl inflated the raft with the rip cord, and they hand paddled the rest of the way to shore…

It had been six long months since Anton had left Belle, and she was only two months away from birth… She had given up hope and did nothing but stare and cry at the fire, or at the stars. It wasn't possible to consol her anymore… She was convinced Anton had found another woman and swore if she saw him again she would kill him. The night before she had told her mother "I hope he's dead, then there would be some honor…" of course this wasn't the case and when the newspaper came she heard her father yell out "He's alive Belle!" That was all she needed, the pills she had in front of her were soon laid out, but before she could swallow them all her father jumped on her and yelled at her, slapping her. After she'd calmed down he took the time to speak to her "He's alive and he did his job, what the fuck is wrong with you…?" Belle had no answer except the ill washings to Anton. She poured out how she'd thought he'd been with another woman and went on and on for days about thinking he was cheating on her…

Later the week at night after she was asleep her father received a call about the boat "they're not among the dead, but we do not know where they are" the voice crackled on the other end. It was now evident something had gone seriously wrong… "I don't care how you do it, I want you to find them and bring them back…" Setting the phone down in his office after the Don's order Thomas looked through his bloodshot eyes. He'd been the man's link in the America's for years and now with the recent whacking of someone as high up as Anton and Karl's target there was no telling what kind of retaliation could happen. The attack on the cargo ship was a fluke, rebels attacking the ship like that was absolutely uncalled for and had they been in the states there'd be none of them left "God damn communist" Thomas muttered as he dialed up a friend in Brazil. Some time later he was on his way, in the sky. "Ey' Tom" a man said as he opened the door to the airplane "how ya' been?" With a sigh Tom replied to the man holding the door to the car "I ain't been good Vito, I ain't been good at all, ain't slept for days neither" Crunching gravel toward the stairs he looked back at Vito "Grab my bags will ya'? We're goin' to Brazil and then Argentina. We've some business to take care of" Thomas climbed the steps followed by his associate. They waited as the private plane revved up and took off, it would hit Mexico City, down south through Brazil stopping at a private airstrip to refuel and continue south to Argentina once they knew where to go.

In the town Anton and Karl found a small shanty hotel and spoke to some of the local's. It wasn't a bad place but it was run down and there were no floors so to speak. They tracked down a British man who spoke the local lingo; they'd had to sign everything for the most part until then. It was mid-day and the old British man in khaki shorts, shirt, and hat was speaking to his translator when Anton approached him. "Can you help me?" The British man looked up and said back "By Joe you speak English!" Anton shot a glance to Karl who nearly snickered off to the side. "Quite, I was wondering exactly how far away we are from a large city?" The British man stroked his mustache for a moment and said "Well, it is a trifle bit out of the ways but I think if you walked north a few hundred kilometers there is a small town with an airstrip; I'm here on an expedition, my cousin suggested I take time away from my busy life in England and get out more… what better way than to follow in great grandfathers footsteps?" Karl had to turn around a moment… the man was dressed like the classic pictures of British explorers, it was the 70s, not the 20s…

"Well, I and my friend here were shipwrecked off the coast and we need to find a way to get back to civilization" Quickly replying "You've certainly not found it here, the local barbarians don't use even the most common of household utensils just a few clicks out" Anton stared back and then continued "My friend here and I are from Italy, and we were here on a medical expedition, you see, I am a doctor, a surgeon, and it was rumored there were certain plants here that could help with antiseptics and healing, you know the kinds of rumors, well my friend here is a botanist and we were originally going south toward the straights of Magellan, but ended up in this small town…" Anton's thoughts were more along the lines of 'By botany I mean he grows coca and hemp…' But he listened to the British man's reply "Well I got here through the skill of my guide, we originally flew in and then took a most exciting hike to this small village, they have a generator which is sufficient for their needs but if you wish to accompany us back I don't see why Fredrick wouldn't mind, by the way the name is Roland." They shook hands and Anton sat down in the wooden chair while Karl sat down on a log, the ground was muddy and the air moist. "Right then, if we go north a ways we will reach Punta Alta, we will leave tomorrow." Anton and Karl both nodded and looked at the man and then Karl asked, "Where do we stay?" Roland paused a moment and looked around, he motioned to a man and spoke in German to him. A moment later Roland said back in his thick welsh accent "A local family will hold you up for the night, after which we will depart at 540 AM. You both had better get some sleep" Anton nodded and walked with the guide to the shack, a hammock was strung up and he pointed at it, with that sign Anton nodded and laid down on it, falling asleep quickly after having a mosquito net hung around him courtesy of Roland.

Karl walked into a small shack inhabited by a young woman who stared at him while he lay down. She provided him with a paste like food and some water, which he ate graciously; afterwards she slipped her arms around him… The night was filled with sounds that were primal but not made by animals… The morning came and only Anton appeared before Roland, Karl was late and half dressed. "I'll be staying here" Karl said, and Anton gave him a curious look; but then understanding hit him as the young tan skinned woman came up behind him and slipped her arms through his. Anton never saw Karl again… About four hours overdue Anton, Roland, and their small troupe made it to Punta Alta where there were automobiles outdated by years and electricity established. Anton found the first phone and called collect to Sicily, it took an entire three hours to get through to the old don. "What about Karl?" Anton replied and said "He was unable to make it here with me, I don't think I shall ever see him again" the don took this as his death, but continued "I have sent a man to Brazil. He will be there to pick you up as soon as he can. We're going to get you home, there's a ship in Brazil that is destined for Portugal, through there you will be taken by train into West Germany and then south through Austria and Italy… these are subject to change of course" Anton replied, relieved "Grazie Don, it has been hell" the phone call ended and Anton went with Roland until as far as the airport where they said goodbye to each other. Anton smelled bad, looked bad, and felt bad, but he was happy; he was going home to Belle and be with her for his child's birth.

The old Don hung up the phone with a sigh of relief and called the hotel in Brazil. The ringing tone vanished with the hissing of the intercontinental connection and Thomas's voice "Hello?" Thomas said as he twiddled a finger around his 5 inch blade "Ey', good news Tom, we found Anton, he's down in Punta Alta, I want you down there five minutes ago, bring his ass up back to Brasilia and catch a flight to San Luis and get aboard the ship" Without waiting for a reply the line went dead. Tom looked at the clock and saw it was 2am. He'd had less than 8 hours of sleep all week… "Damn…" He called up Vito in the next room "We gotta go now" Within three hours they were flying south to Punta Alta and the next day they arrived at the airport.

Anton watched the plane and just about jumped out of his body, two men approached him and shook his grimy hand "I'm Thomas, this here's Vito, we're here to take you home" Anton nodded and said "Grazie." The trip back to Brazil was like heaven, food was served aboard the plane and the flight north had only a little turbulence. Arrival at the first airport left Anton a chance to go into Brasilia and buy a new set of clothes, wash, and shave. On the plane a few hours later it flew them to the coast; and after the airstrip Thomas and Vito escorted Anton to the ship. "I've orders to escort you all the way to France, and back to Sicily, it's been a while since I've been home anyways" Thomas said, down below they were assigned rooms on the ship. It was an older vessel, rust had made a home on it, and its crew was old, experienced. Vito followed along and went into a room close by; almost immediately Anton and Vito heard the snoring of Thomas; and Thomas did not wake up for over a full day. When he finally did his hair was half standing on the left and his eyes were bleary; he met them in the mess hall while they enjoyed stale bread…

The phone rang on Marcel's desk and he answered it in French, only to be greeted by Italian on the other line. Marcel was an older man, tall, and dressed in a brown leather jacket. He lived in a medium sized apartment in Paris; an old contact of the Don, he had served in the Second World War as an officer for the decimated French army. "Hello there" Marcel said, immediately he was issued his orders "I want you to meet three of my men in Portugal, escort them to Paris on the train, there's been a change of plans on how they are getting here, and I want you to insure their safe arrival" The Frenchmen replied "It will be done, you've nothing to worry about. Before I go, tell me their names" there was a pause and then an answer "Anton is being escorted by two of my associates, Vito and Thomas. I want them well taken care of Marcel, this is much more than business, this is family." The line went dead and Marcel called the airport to arrange a flight to Portugal later in the month. The old Don had sent a package with all the information he needed and it would be on Marcel's desk before his flight.

Leaning back in his chair as a white curl of smoke lifted and wafted into the air from his cigar the old Don thought about how much trouble it had been to just get his son in law home. Muttering to himself he continued on about how "He'd better be a good father" and "If he fucked anyone he's a dead man" The old Don fell asleep in his chair and dozed off as his cigar burned by him. The old man had two sons and a daughter, one son was long dead; the other was involved in 'banking' in Prima. The old man's thoughts were about things far in the past as he slipped deeper into sleep. The small cigar landed on the floor and burned itself out, scorching a portion of the carpet as it did… the foreshadowed the future of things to happen to him… Upstairs Belle slept soundly, after the doctor had given her a sedative, he'd been forced to do it or else the child could be harmed by the stress, he used low doses and prayed that it wouldn't affect the unborn child…

Weeks had passed and now the old rusted ship was just a few miles off the coast of Portugal, the sun was high and the ship was gleaming with the water; a small boat had pulled up beside it and aboard it was a Frenchman with 3 locals. Anton, Vito, and Thomas were all brought out on the deck and within a few minutes a ladder had been lowered down. The crew saluted them and they climbed down; inside the boat they saw the few men and the Frenchie, He came up to them and outstretched his hand to Anton "My name is Marcel, I was sent here to take you to Sicily, the Don asked I personally handle your travel changes." The small boat sped off south to a private dock, which is where they unloaded. Silently the four men walked into the house, and then out the front without stopping for a drink, or even a snack. In the black car they filed in and drove straight to the train station. On the train they sat and waited, unsure of the Frenchman. He started talking to the Italians trying to break the ice but it did not seem to go over well. "I've worked for the old man for years you know? We met in the Second World War, I was an officer, somehow transferred to the Italian front…" Anton was the only one to oblige a response with "How many krauts did you kill?" A moment of silence and Marcel replied, "I didn't kill any Germans…" Marcel had been fighting Italians, who were still under orders of the Nazi officers. "I didn't fight many Nazis at all…" Marcel replied in a subdued tone.

The Train stopped in Paris, where they filed into the airport, and flew first class to Greece. On the plane after being served dinner Anton sat next to Marcel and being polite spoke to him. "How long have you lived in Paris?" Marcel looked to the side and then popped a few mints into his mouth "Years, I moved there after the war from the countryside." Anton nodded and replied, "I have lived mostly in Palermo, Sicily" Anton watched out the window as they passed hills and mountains in the small plane, they were now over Austria going toward Italy… In Rome they landed and Marcel had a car waiting, they landed in Rome and were being driven through the busy roads that were overly crowded even at night. It wasn't long before they had gone far enough south to a small airstrip on a private vineyard owned by the old Don… The plane was ready, the travelers weary and exhausted; Marcel being the least tired continued now to jabber on about the places he had seen on his tour of duty. Anton drifted in and out of consciousness, Vito was snoring loudly and Thomas was silently staring out the window. As light his the aircraft from the morning sun they saw the Mediterranean islands and finally, a crackled voice from a pilot named Luke announced the fact that they had arrived in Sicily. Almost home.

A harsh touchdown and a few scrapes of gravel later and they were all stumbling down the ladder to the black limo waiting for them. On the ground in the limo someone was waiting for them, he was dressed in a fine black jacket, white undershirt and red tie; he was round old and smiled widely as Anton got in. Anton's eyes were half shut until the gun was pushed firmly against his temple and a question asked of him "Did you fuck anybody?" Anton's immediate answer was "no, but I fucked a few up Frank" A chuckle emanated from the round man and the gun was lowered. "That's ma boy" the old Don said as he shook Anton's shoulder "Belle's been waiting for you" Anton nodded and asked the old man "Do I have a son or a daughter?" The old man looked back and said, "Neither, you're just in time…"

The memories of the past haunted Anton as he awoke from sleeping, he looked through the room that was once the Don's Son's room. He quietly crept out and slid his hands on the rails as his old mangled body carried his now steel and nylon joints creaking to the old bedroom that was once his dearly departed first wife… On the floor he saw the blood again and stared; quietly he exited the room and silently entered the kitchen. Inside the kitchen he gathered up a few small things and was about to cook a midnight snack when he felt his face and remembered what was lost… Slowly Anton put everything away and walked back up the stairs to grab another canister. He drank the mushy liquid that smelled strong but had everything he needed to stay alive and strong in it. Afterwards he dressed himself, all of his weapons and surgeons bag, he left the AK-74 and the Striker behind so all was concealed and left the front door. It was time to find someone.

Daylight began to wisp into the clouds while Anton walked on the side of the road amongst crackled bricks and grass grasping to be free of the hindrance caused by those ancient blocks of rock, overgrowing all around it was attempting to dominate that which was once the glorious brick driveway to Thomas's house. Boarded windows and locked doors told Anton the tale that there had been vacancy for quite some time. Wishing to find some clue as to what happened to Thomas he pried open a window and with surprising agility jumped inside, all of his frame fluidly landing without pain. It was dark so he withdrew a small light from the surgical bag he'd found one day and reloaded with AAA batteries. The top of the small Mag-Lite screwed off to create a mini-torch. In the dim light Anton punched open each closed window to expose papers scattered and an outline of a body in the living room. Ancient brittle plastic police tape was all over the room and much of the furniture was left behind. Up the stairs there were more lines, cue cards left undisturbed where shell casings had been found, blood stained the rooms and floors dried and black with age. Thomas had four children, and upstairs there were four body outlines along with a crib… Thomas had a baby that Anton knew nothing about and there was dried blood in the crib. The crime scene was enough to make the old doctor begin to feel sick. One of the bedrooms was locked, prying it open inside was a dress undisturbed laid out on a blood-soaked bed long eaten at by moths and their larva, the blood was black and faded. The outline of a woman was upon the ground, a brush and a broken mirror by it. The sights of a past gone so wrong haunted Anton as he stood at the upstairs mater bedroom window; prying out the wood the sunlight flooded the room. His outline stood at the window facing the sun as his head bowed down; his shoulders slumped and he went to his knees. The weight of the past had finally crippled the man who was under the mask; it had taken its toll and weighted down on the beast that was once a handsome doctor. Tears landed upon the wooden windowsill, darkening the ancient dried wood and the dim lime paint that once graced it. Hours seemed to pass by in mind numbing slowness as the sun passed overhead. It was noon and Anton had finally left the ancient house to only walk a few blocks more to Vito's small abode. There he found life, a little older aged woman was there making a meal. The light smell of pasta graced the air as Anton knocked on the door. The woman was nearly blind he could see, and she answered the door to see the huge frame of a man in front of her "Who are you?" he voice aged and crackly inquired. "Anton" There was a gasp and she dropped the spoon.

Inside she was wringing her hands as the dark figure of death wafted into her small living room and made the furniture seem made for a dwarf. "Vito passed away years ago Anton, he died in a car accident when a drunk man slammed his truck into the Toyota car he had imported…" Anton nodded and asked her slowly while dreading the answer "What happened to Thomas?" The older short woman shook her head as if trying to keep memories from coming back and then she broke "They all died" she said simply. Then looking at Anton, her eyes cloudy with cataracts said, "They were killed like dogs…" He nodded and tipped his hat to her. Reaching his hand out to the old woman she took it, and to her surprise found a slip of paper. "Go to the hospital after to cash this check and have them fix your eyes. Tell them a Dr. Phibes sent you" He walked away from that small house and continued walking. Afternoon sunlight, which was once to him a delight, let his shadow lead to the left and stretch to the streets as the doctor in black walked down the busy street to another place, to again see another face. Inside he hoped that the Jew was alive; he worked for no one and yet everyone and had become wealthy from the conflicts of families long gone. Inside the old jewelry shop Anton stared at the tiny ancient man who must have been nearly 90.

He said slowly in Italian "Those who for the blood flows" an answer from a crisp still youthful voice said back "are like those for who the bell tolls" Anton's reply was immediate and carried in it a tone of danger "But the devil always hears and knows" With an immediate retort the Jew said "What lies in man's heart and to greed grows…" The small Jewish man ushered the giant in comparison to the back room covered in clocks watches and all kinds of trinkets "How long has it been?" The Jew asked Anton. "Years, I am here to ask you a question, and this is Vendetta." The Jew knew that meant a non-profit contribution, but he would oblige. "Continue", said the white haired small ancient wrinkled man. "Who killed Thomas?" There was silence and then the small Jew said, "Some things a man shouldn't ask…" as if the threat still lingered and Anton was a young man. Anton made no noise and stared. "Let me see the face that asks, I never forget a face, although I have no doubt it is you Anton…" Slowly the doctor removed the latex and then the mouth covering surgical mask to reveal the ghastly ghoul that was Dr. Anton Phibes. A small gasp escaped the old man and he said to Anton "Are you demon of hell to repay upon those who have yet to die and go to hell, are you here to repay death upon me?" Anton smiled with what he could and said back [b]"The reaper knows me well old man, but whether who I kill ascend to the gates of heaven or descend to the fires of hell I cannot tell, now please oblige me with what you know of the murder…" The old man thought for a moment as Anton redressed his face and put the black hat back upon his scarred scalp. "There's just one man left who was involved, the rest are dead, or I do not know where they are… He is someone I think you knew. Brazino…" Anton's mask hid the look of horror that graced the mangled face.

"Brazino?" Anton said in shock, this day was an emotionally draining day for Anton… Brazino was the family name of Karl, his friend who had remained in Argentina. "You mean Karl?" The old man violently shook his head "No one has ever heard from Karl, it was his brother James." Anton slowly nodded, as the image of the stringy dark-eyed weasel entered his mind. The man had shadows under his eyes as dark as the skin of someone just a few hundred miles south, never sleeping, and always scamming lying and cheating his way through life. It was Karl's younger brother, the one who always hung with the bad crowd and participated in get rich schemes, leaving honorable men to die in battle, and worst killing with a savagery that made them a hunted breed of man. "He was the triggerman", The old Jew said, and this meant he fired a gun, probably killing the children since they didn't put up a fight… "Where do I find him?" Anton asked, no longer displaying emotion he was monotone and his speech became completely pedantic in nature, the rage inside overwhelmed him, he had not felt this was since the murder of his own wife. "You can find him at the old gambling house, he still runs a racket there. It's a shithole still, so you cant miss it, he hasn't changed a bit except now his back is bent forward and his eyes are even darker circles. I didn't tell you anything." Anton nodded and silently left the jewelers.

The next morning Anton appeared at the house, it was still dawn, snoring inside from different places, cars parked and the smell of drugs emanated from the house. Inside Anton walked by sleeping men and passed out whores half nude on old ratty couches by peeling wallpaper and the smell of burnt drugs was nearly overwhelming. He stepped over a nude hooker on the floor to a hallway, slowly a door opened as Anton walked by and a voice said behind him "You bring the shit?" Looking back Anton grabbed the mans neck with one hand and squeezed the voice out of the curious druggie, Anton pushed into the room that contained three nude women, all looking under the age of legality… Anton silently strangled the man with just one hand, the light dimmed from his eyes and his body began going limp. The man fell to his knees as Anton maintained the iron grip; the man was out in 15 seconds because of Anton's grip on the jugulars. A minute later and there was no heartbeat, the man was dead, his eyes saw the young flesh on the bed and he felt nothing, hatred only grew. Back in the hallway he walked into the master bedroom, and in the bed was exactly who he was looking for surrounded by more prostitutes, whores, and under-aged flesh, James was half hanging off the bed. The hand and fingers that Anton's right hand had wrapped around the neck of the man, silencing any sound he could make; the man was light but tall and easy to drag. There was no reaction to the grip, but the man was alive… He drug James outside and across the street, people were still in bed and no one seemed to notice the noises in the slum. He tied the arms and legs together with some old twine and tossed the man into the yard across from the house, the grass was well over a foot tall and dead, perfect for hiding the man for just a brief moment.

Anton walked back inside pulling the guns from his holsters, in each hand he held a Glock-17. The surgical bag was with the man in the grass. Anton walked back through the door and walked into the living room, the gunfire lasted for only a brief moment as he aimed at every person in the room and delivered a bullet into their heads, the other rooms sprang to life with cussing as girls screamed and men yelled. Out from behind the couch a groggy man stood with a gun aimed at Anton's direction, he fired a shot and hit the woman who had just stood up to flee in the back; Anton's blast did not miss and pegged the man in the forehead. There were at least 12 people left alive in the house, only two men after the slaughter in the living room. Anton had only expended 32 of his 40 rounds and he did so evenly so that both weapons and their extended clips were even. The two men left both received shots to the back of the head as Anton prepared to use the last six rounds in the current clips. As one man darted from a room in the hall he was met by two bullets, both to the skull; the other man leapt out and fired a shotgun, nearly hitting Anton, unfortunately the one pellet that did hit Anton bounced into the Kevlar and fell harmlessly to the floor while Anton's 4 last bullets hit the man's chest and cranium painting the wall a gorgeous scarlet color. Methodically he placed one gun back in the holster and then the other, withdrawing the sawed off short barrel shotgun. The door was open where the one man had lepta out while the other was locked, he stepped into the unlocked room and scanned it with his eyes, the man he'd strangled was still on the floor dead, and the women were awake, mostly. He didn't bother with them yet, the other locked room was easy to open, the filthy door looked beaten already and all he had to do was slam his foot into it; while doing so the dark jacket he wore flapped behind him.

Inside this room there was one person left with a weapon and she tried to shoot Anton in the head, she was about five and a half feet tall, skinny to the bone and completely nude; she'd been in the bed with the now bleeding corpse in the hallway. The bullet from her small revolver whizzed by Anton's head and slammed into the ceiling behind him spraying dust into the hallway. With one hand he lifted the shotgun, aimed, fired, and turned away as the faceless woman collapsed to the floor, and halfway on the bed with her brain exposed. The other two women who were scantily clad screamed and one looked as if she passed out again; they were no threat. Inside the master bedroom again he saw James's personal entourage huddled on the floor near the closet. He fired a shot over their heads and left the room silently; as he passed through the hallway he replaced the gun into his jacket concealing it, grabbed a clip for one of the Glocks and reloaded it, doing the same to the other as he left the front door that had old paint peeling off. Back out over the man in the tall grass he reloaded the sawed off shotgun and replaced that again inside his jacket. The entire process had been within the past thirty minutes and the sun was still procrastinating behind the hills. Anton's hand again picked up the lifeless body while the other held the surgical kit; he drug the man in the street all the way back to Thomas's house, it took all day with the heavy load; but he drug it without stopping, each step gaining momentum as hatred pushed the doctor forward. At the house he threw the man into the broken window that Anton had gone into the previous day, Anton followed as well with the same fluid performance. James's cloths and pants were tattered and skin raw from being drug for miles but otherwise he was still alive and unconscious…

He woke up to see just a lit candle, he pulled his hands back to feel pain on both wrists where he had been scraped and then felt the tingle of pain from his legs, they had been tied down generously. Anton had slept on the couch and had already drunk his mix, which he picked up at the estate while the detainee was unconscious. Hearing the chair scrape the floor in the darkened living room Anton arose and quietly peaked into the kitchen, the single candle had burned half way down. Inside the kitchen James was struggling to move the chair when he heard the door creek open in front of him. Anton entered the room and slowly spoke "They say time catches up with us all, old man, they say time always does" the surgical bag left his hand and found itself on the old cabinet ready to be used. The scalpels reflected from the open top candlelight in anticipation of their initiation into medical use. Anton looked down at the man and said to him "You've no idea where we are do you? Why… in this very house you killed a man, a woman, four small children, and even an infant" Realization struck the doomed man and he knew what this was for. "Come now James, I know who you are… and you know who I am" Creeping closer he said slowly "Your dear brother's friend James… Anton" The man struggled again to get out "My, my, my, still speechless? You remember what happened right after Belle died don't you? The skinned men along the markets, you know, the ones that helped murder her after you told them which room I stayed in? Come now, don't think I didn't figure that out." The man said back "You had it coming, you know that? You killed so many people before they retaliated, it was only business." He stood in front of the weasel and pulled from the bag a small scalpel, something un-noticeable in the dim light. He replied, "My wife was not business, my wife was no soldier nor was she involved in the family, she was not business!

The knife struck a thin line across the face of James and it was split along the forehead all the way around the chin and back up. Anton took a hold as James screamed and began cutting small chunks of flesh off, including the eyelids. "This was you cannot blink at what I do" Flesh dangled and parts of his face bled; Anton had only created a flesh wound and peeled a little of the skin off, the eyelids were of course the worse damage. Anton's right hand traded the scalpel to the left and ripped the front of the shirt off of James. "I say it is time to see what is inside you, you know, the heart and soul, if it is really black or if it is yellow." He lifted James and the chair slamming the back of it only a few inches off the ground into the old counter, breaking the wood on it. He stood the condemned man up and used the broken chair as a way to hold the thin older man in the upright standing position. With the extra the good doctor fastened him standing up the window frame and an old decorative support for the cabinets, then tied a part of rope around the bleeding head and forced it to look down. Anton moved the candle closer and lit another "You will watch me work, and you will watch retribution as I remove the bowels inside of you, and send you on your way to hell."

The scalpel helped get rid of what shirt was left and Anton removed the man's pants to get to the abdomen; within a split second and without any forewarning the small blade sliced through the layer of skin and muscle protecting what was inside… A moment later and the gloved Doctor was already extracting things with tongs, while he screamed. "This won't work… you make too much noise you know that? Hold on a moment my dear friend I've a solution to your hysteria" A flash of reflected light leapt at James and he tried to scream but only air escaped his neck, the voice box had been sliced open silencing his screams. Anton went back to work "Liver. He said as he pulled it out and let it dangle "Colon" that flopped out and remained suspended "Small Intestine" Anton hung it up and around on knobs of cabinets as he pulled it out, breaking the blood vessel connections to it. He strung the entire small intestine up and around and went back to work. "Pancreas" he said flipping a small round dark blob onto the counter behind him. James shuddered as he was slowly disemboweled… "Spleen" another squish on the counter "Gall Bladder" flopping was heard "whoops, I lost a kidney" He grabbed the other one and tossed it aside. Anton scooped whatever was left out and then said to him "I have to crack your chest open now" Without a seconds delay the knife went straight up the sternum and the skin was violently ripped away from the living corpse "I guess I don't have any chest crackers…" He reached into the bag and brought out a small metal device "Well will you look at that, a small saw" As slowly as it took Anton to cut all the ribs, James silently screamed the entire time as each rib was sawed off and tossed aside. He had to watch everything, and the dosage of morphine Anton had given was keeping him conscious. "Oh wait a minute, before I rip your heart out I have to do one other thing don't I?" He reached down and pulled his hand back up flapping a flaccid phallus in front of James "I forgot about that organ" he tossed it aside and then violent ripped both testicles out throwing them in the sink. Without pause he pulled the stomach out of the living corpse and said "will you look at that, did you know you had an ulcer?" The floor was slick with blood and juices from the body, still alive. Carefully the scalpel again was used to remove the tongue, lips, and earlobes, along with the nose. Anton was finished and lit all the rest of the candles, leaving James to watch himself die. Throughout the entire procedure Anton had not gotten one speck of blood on his clothing, and only the bottom of his shoes were wet. While the corpse squirmed and shuddered as it lost heat from the exposed organs Anton slipped off the white gloves and dropped them into a small bag, he covered the tools he used with plastic and paper to absorb the blood that was on them, and he cleaned up all the traces from himself. Afterwards he said casually "Bye James" and left him strung up in the kitchen, all of the organs that had been removed were in the sink, and the intestines still hung from the cabinets. Anton jumped out the broken window and walked away as the man inside squirmed to get free, but the life inside was fading fast because his kidneys could not clean his blood, his liver could not prevent toxins from building up, his body could not maintain the temperature it needed.

Anton was long gone while James watched in horror as a candle burned the rope that was used, it had been soaked in kerosene, the flame danced on it and began to do the mamba up to James, dancing around the coils at his arms, burning flesh and rope, burning the rope on his face, his eyes were burned from where the rope had been strung, it burned everything and then released the dead corpse to the floor. It burned the house next, burned the memories, burned the rooms, burned the evidence, and burned it all. Anton patted his pocket and removed a picture of a man, standing next to a woman holding a baby while four other children stood in front. It was the only thing he needed to remember Thomas and his family, they way they should have been. At the estate he sterilized his tools, threw away his shoes and wore another pair he had. He lay in his bed and wondered back to what he'd done, he killed a man in cold blood as retribution.


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PostPosted: Mon May 08, 2006 2:57 pm 
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Joined: Wed Feb 08, 2006 7:21 am
Posts: 80
Anton was alone in this world, seemingly devoid of any true friends, he was just there, always had been there, and seemingly as long as he was he would bring death and destruction. Atanasia was probably the only person that listened to him as a human; she was like a daughter to him, but some things he could not tell her. His own daughters had abandoned him, his son a bastard because of Anton's flight to America, he was in this world very alone. Laying there these thoughts went through the man's mind, it was hard for him to cope with such things sometimes but right now he came to the realization his life had no real purpose or point to it besides the occasional old nemesis he found from his past here, and that had most likely been the last man alive who'd been involved in killing his friends and family. It was as if the burden of revenge for Belle was finally gone, and emptiness remained. Victoria had been a much greater love, she had been the one who saved his soul, brought him back, let him live again. Belle was his first love, Victoria was his greatest love, and neither of them were alive to talk to, to love, to even kiss one more time… Yes, Anton knew he would always be this way… Alone, incomplete, and destined to kill and kill again. He became a doctor to give people life, and was now a doctor who dealt in death.

Suddenly out of a burst of random thought Anton picked up a telephone and called the bank in Cairo, having not touched the account in years he was glad he used the same passwords and had the account information handy, all he needed to do was request that the account be closed and the money transferred to his bank account in Palermo. Anton had money hidden all over the world from the exploits under the old Don; he had two other accounts in Palermo, he had three in Greece, seven in the states, and various others all around Europe; they served him well now, although he never intended to let them sit this long… he had a delay in collecting the money back. Originally he planned to use it for trips with Belle, but after that was dashed he left them to languish in interest and some grew without disturbance. Later he'd planned on family trips with Victoria but that again was sliced short by a surgeon…

He spoke silently to a mirror beside him looking at the unmasked face and said to himself "For would anyone care that the beast would at times chance feeling so weak and vulnerable? Would the think that I may be more than just the cold heartless exterior? Or is it fate that has grappled upon my soul and will forever pull me away from what others who are not so cursed enjoy? I cannot answer myself I know but it is all I have to talk to that understands me, you understand me of course, yes, I know you do, but alas talking to you is useless you see, for you and I are the same… If they saw me speaking to a mirror they should think me mad, insane, completely lost in a delusional realm of a fantasy world… It is not the case of course and you and I both know why I am even speaking…" Anton laid back into bed and closed his eyes thinking the answer to himself 'loneliness'.


Requests:
The Occurrence of the previous events.
The Recovery of said funds from Cairo.
The death of James Brazino
Any additional monetary considerations
Your enjoyment

Word Count 12k or so, doesn't matter, just noting that this is my longest ever. I did not intend the length but it happened, sue me.


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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 9:33 pm 
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Joined: Sat Jan 21, 2006 1:37 pm
Posts: 141
Finally read it. Sorry this took so long to be judged but as you know, I don't usually judge things and I decided to break from my advisorial status to grade this.

My impressions from this piece: I enjoyed it. There are parts however, that bothered me slightly. More specifically the parts where Anton was travelling back to Palermo. They seemed very jumpy like an episode of CSI when they process the evidence too quickly and come up with a simple answer. I do understand your time constraints when writing this and have not forgotten them.

Another slightly jumpy part was the disembowling of James. It wasn't the same as the travelling "scenes", but I did miss certain parts of it. I might have missed something while reading it though. Nonetheless, I did enjoy this, particularly the good doctor's nonchalance.

There are several spelling and grammar mistakes, but very few and not really worthy of noting. If you wish to be strict on yourself, then the best you can do is read over your piece or ask another to read it before posting it. Others usually see spelling and grammar mistakes easier than when you read it. This is common knowledge though.

On to the verdict and please don't expect this to be to the same standards as Ayu.

The Occurrence of the previous events. Approved
The Recovery of said funds from Cairo. Approved - it is a large amount but the original collection of the money, in Egypt, was detailed so I will be leniant and grant this - 500,000 donated
The death of James Brazino. Approved - he died slowly and painfully
Any additional monetary considerations. None that come to mind except Anton's feeling of retribution for destroying James
Your enjoyment. Enjoyed

Enjoy the money when you return to active role-play. As for moving this to the Elite Archive, I believe it is worthy of this action. However, my decision isn't final so I will post this in the Staff forum.

Solivagus

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