IV

WONLAY
This... is bad. This is VERY bad, Wonlay thought to himself. Many had tried to kill him before, but this particular assailant was actually GOOD. Professionals the world over had tested his mettle, but none had even come close to making him break a sweat. Has my time finally come? Has God finally tired of my wretched existence and sent the angel of death to claim me? Wonlay's chest heaved heavily as his thoughts raced and the bullets flew through the church hall. They ate hungrily into the old marble pillars and walls, like tapeworms with a taste for mortar. Loud reports rang as slugs pierced through the wood of the pews and did grave damage to the once beautiful church. Sacrilegious bastard! How dare he come into God's house to take me! Wonlay was lying on his side behind a pew somewhere near the back of the hall, his body weight resting on his elbow. His suit had chaffed a little and developed dirty patches in his effort to dodge the hail storm of bullets. He had scampered further into the church as his attacker had sent lead his way. If only he had his two Match pistols, then maybe this asshole would atone for his sins. But Wonlay always left his tools of the trade when he went to pray or confess his sins. He looked up to the ceiling of the building solemnly, seeking some kind of hope. The meticulously painted images of the saints stared down at him. He wondered whether they stared with sympathy or with contempt. He had brought ruin to God's house.
JUGBEH
"C'mon man! I need the stuff! You know I'm good for it!"Said Jugbeh, "Work has just been difficult, you know? Global recession and all".
The skinny chemist looked at Jugbeh over the bridge of his spectacles. He had a smirk across his face that clearly questioned Jugbeh's integrity.
"James, how long have we done business?"
"Three weeks, maybe less."
"Yeah! And in that time, have I ever betrayed you? Have I ever not been good on my word?!"
"Three weeks is not enough to say whether your word is good or not," replied James. "Besides, you're still behind on payments for the last consignment."
''And I WILL pay you! With interest even! I'll get work soon. You want me to kill you? Is that what you want?-For me to just kill you, and rob you of your entire stash here?"
"You can't kill me," James said in a confident and even arrogant tone, "You know I'm the only person in town that can hook you up with amphetamine this good. Nobody can supply you with paranoia-less Speed. That other junk these wannabes sell will make you lose your mind."
Before Jugbeh could open his mouth to reply, his cell phone rang.
"You see!"He exclaimed to James. "This should be someone offering me some work now! Gimme a sec," he said with one finger pointing in the air.
"Hello,"
"I understand you are the best at what you do, Mr. Jugbeh."
"Well hello to you too Darth Vader!-" The voice on the other end of the line was distorted to hide the caller's real voice. Jugbeh hated when potential clients did that. It made him think of spineless kidnappers calling innocent victims and demanding a ransom. It came with the territory he guessed.
''-And that all depends on who's asking," Jugbeh continued.
''I represent a very large and wealthy organisation, Mr. Jugbeh. We are looking to recruit people with 'talents' such as yours. If you are selected, your remuneration will be considerably hefty. And you will no longer need to obtain your amphetamines from illicit laboratories."
Jugbeh knotted his eyebrows and looked at James in suspicion," Did you tell- -"
''I have sent someone of your caliber to test your skills. He should be at your location shortly. You are to defend yourself and attempt to eliminate him, for he also is being tested. If you are successful, we will compensate you accordingly and contact you requesting your services soon. Do you accept?"
Jugbeh looked at the stimulants on the chemist's desk. He wanted the amphetamines, heck, he NEEDED them. He stroked his chin a few times and put his hand on his waist, arm akimbo. Jugbeh usually did that when he was contemplating something or when his high was leaving him.
"I don't have much of a choice now, do I?" Jugbeh asked.
"There is always a choice, Mr. Jugbeh," the deep distorted voice said on the other end of the line.
"Then I accept,"
"Good."
The line cut.
As Jugbeh put his phone inside his pocket, the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention and the swinging doors to the lab burst open. What followed next all happened in a flash. A dagger whistled silently past Jugbeh's ear and struck the chemist in between his eyes. Blood trickled down to his chin. If Jugbeh had not used his agility and moved quickly, the dagger would have easily peeled off a good portion of his face. Jugbeh leapt over the chemist's counter pulling out a Desert Eagle .50 from inside the holster tucked within his leather jacket, and fired a number of rounds in the direction of the invader, all in one swift motion.
GOMA
Goma held his large cup of freshly brewed Cowboy Coffee delicately as he walked from the café to his car. He was still angered by the phone call he had received earlier. The man (or woman) with the altered voice had given him more of specific orders than made him an offer. The voice said Goma needed to attempt to kill a certain man, a man probably as good at killing as he was. Goma had snickered at the thought; no one was as good as he was. He had only accepted the job because he wished to prove to this disrespectful voice that claimed to represent a higher power that his skills were unmatched. He could have cared less about the money or the future work promised.
"Higher power," Goma mused to himself. He was taken back to his days as a C5 operative. There he learnt that higher powers and authority meant nothing but badges, patches or stripes. Authority was just an excuse for megalomaniacs to demean those in lower ranks. Goma had expressed his rejection of hierarchy by showering fists on his commanding officer. He was immediately relieved of his duties. It was only natural that he later got into the business of ending the lives of various politicians and authority figures around the world.
He sat in his car and took a sip of his coffee almost religiously. Goma closed his eyes, savoring the heavenly taste and aroma of his strong brew. Coffee was no ordinary beverage for Goma; he considered it a magical elixir. Its only drawback was that he got the shakes when he held his sniper rifle and he hadn't had a fresh cup.
When Goma was done with his ritualistic sipping, he drove to the church where the voice had told him he would find his target. He parked his car close to the entrance and then began to clean his A.K 47 rifle. He wiped it carefully with the precision of a surgeon. It was not a very accurate weapon for his line of work, but it was excellent for sending messages; Loud and clear messages. Goma looked through his tinted car windows to observe the situation. It was almost evening and there was barely anyone attending mass. Perfect.
BADUK
"Hello, Mr. Baduk."
"Who is this?"
"That is of little relevance right now. What is is the fact that I know that you are capable of breaking a man's arm in four places with just one move," the voice said.
Baduk was silent for while.
"Why your voice sound funny?" He said in his East Asian accent.
''Another irrelevant question. What is of importance is that I can have all your criminal charges dropped. I can absolve you of your crimes," the voice said," you can be a free man. But on one condition."
Baduk remained mute.
"You have been doing small insignificant jobs for meager pay Mr. Baduk. The people I represent are looking for someone with your expertise. Kill one man for us and you will hit the 'big time'."
''When and where?"
"Today. As soon as possible. Your target is conveniently located across the street from where you are. He is currently purchasing some amphetamines or 'Speed' from a failed pharmacist that operates an illicit laboratory. The entrance is down in the alley opposite your gym. It may be locked, but that shouldn't be a problem for you."
Baduk thought it over, "Free man?"
"Yes Mr. Baduk, freedom for you and with all the benefits that come with it."
''I take job then."
"Good. Be warned, he is no easy mark. We will be in touch if you are successful."
The line cut.
Free man? Baduk tossed the thought around in his head for a while. He had never truly been free. He felt as though he had been running his whole life. Whether it was from cruel workhouse masters, the police or foster homes; running was all Baduk had ever known. Now all he had to do is kill a man and he would be free. Easy enough. He had hurt and killed many men before. Baduk was not good at many things, but he was definitely good at inflicting pain and bringing death when the situation called for it.
Many people had made false promises to Baduk. He had no reason to trust the demonic sounding voice, but he had nothing to lose. Besides, 'free man' rolled off his tongue well. He liked the sound of it. He sipped his can of 'Amp' as he quickly walked across the street to where he had been instructed to go. It was his sixth can that day and he was buzzing. He came to a locked wire gate and climbed over it with cat-like speed. Memories of valiant but failed jail-breaks in his time in China came flooding back to him. O' what whippings he and his companions had received.
Baduk navigated his way through the alley and into an old dilapidated building. Deep inside it, he could hear and see a large man in a leather jacket heckling a smaller man in spectacles. Baduk smiled and pulled out his trusted dagger.

                                        
                                                                    Lo Strikes again!