INSIDIOUS ASSASSINS

by Jack Ketchum

  The Mad Gasser topples over the pew debris behind him. Mortally wounded, he attempts to crawl away, clutching uselessly at his Flit gun. Ogrifina goes in for the kill, pistol-whipping his face and shattering his mask’s glass lenses. His mask fills immediately with poisonous gas, and, eyes reddened and watering profusely, he begins to cough violently. She reaches down and yanks the broken mask from his face, and watches the liver-spotted nonagenarian choke on his final breath. A frothy white liquid tinged pink with blood drips from his lips and his pupils dilate fixedly—bereft of life. Not one to take any chances, Ogrifina produces a short-handled sickle from her drag bag and deftly decapitates the Gasser’s corpse.

  With her mission technically completed, Ogrifina faces a choice. She can honor her contract and return to the states to collect her payment ... or she can venture further into the cathedral in pursuit of vengeance. Her attention turns to a large, ornately carved door beside the sanctuary’s altar. Without hesitation, she makes her way to the doorway and begins a long ascent up a set of winding limestone steps into what she knows to be the cathedral’s belfry. Massive bronze bells are bolted along the ceiling, illuminated by moonlight pouring in through openings on all four sides of the bell tower’s walls.

  In a dark pool of shadows cast by the bells, Ogrifina can barely make out the figure of a tall man gazing at her, arms folded impassively and apparently unarmed. She knows immediately from this figure’s size and the silhouette of his wiry hair that, for the first time since the destruction of her hive, she is within near striking distance of her archenemy.

  “So this is the legendary Prizrak,” Fakel says, his arms folded casually as he steps forward into the moonlight. “Or should I call you Ogrifina Voronina?”

  Ogrifina advances toward her nemesis slowly, stopping mere feet away. She unbuckles her helmet and tosses it to the ground, enabling her to clearly perceive the features of Fakel’s face, features she could never forget.

  “Your reputation precedes you, Ogrifina,” Fakel says. “You are even more beautiful than I remembered. I was so disappointed that you were away when I came to your hive and eradicated your people. I’d been so eagerly looking forward to killing you!” He takes a step toward her before continuing, “You know, there are no kills a man ever cherishes as much as when he kills a beautiful woman.”

  Ogrifina tears her tattered cloak off and casts it on top of her helmet, her battle-damaged bodysuit glistening with blood.

  “I’ve been hailed as a God among assassins ever since I vanquished that insufferable clan of yours,” Fakel continues, advancing another step closer to Ogrifina. “Finbar and Warrington assisted me, of course, but the glory was all mine. Yet I always knew that, as long as you were out there breathing somewhere, I never truly deserved the veneration I received from my peers. But now I have been granted a second chance to finish the Hishniki genocide I initiated twelve years ago.” He steps forward again, placing both assassins within striking distance of one another. “As you can see,” he says, “I am completely unarmed ... but as you know I am far from defenseless, for I was once a Hishnik myself. I received the same rigid training in the art of murder as you—my entire body is a weapon. So why don’t you drop that useless arbalest of yours and we shall see how evenly matched we are?”

  Fakel uncrosses his arms and adopts a forward-weighted Hishniki battle stance as Ogrifina drops her arbalest behind her and removes her utility belt. “Do your worst, Prizrak!” Fakel shouts as Ogrifina advances upon him with lightning speed, her fists raining down upon her adversary like a meteor shower of pent up malice. He backs away slowly, expertly deflecting Ogrifina’s blows. A crooked grin forms in the corner of his mouth. “Very impressive,” he says scoffingly as he continues to parry her blows. Ogrifina connects against his Adam’s apple with a hard open palm strike, catching him off guard and causing him to fall to his knees clutching his throat.

  Seizing her upper hand, she lunges at her opponent, but Fakel overpowers her with a devastating backhand. He then rises to his feet and continues to mock her, “You really know how to turn a man on, Ogrifina. However, I believe it’s time we put an end to this foreplay and move on to the main event.”

  Backing away from Ogrifina with his eyes glued to her, Fakel reaches behind him and begins to hoist his signature weapon—a customized LPO-50 flamethrower. But Ogrifina bears down on him before he’s able to strap on his fuel pack. She executes a devastating helicopter kick to his face, sending him hurtling through the air. “You’re a feisty little twat,” he says, spitting out several teeth, and visibly frustrated as he struggles to regain his footing. Ogrifina rushes at her foe again, her closed fist thrust at his face. But Fakel quickly sidesteps and latches onto her, digging his fingers deeply into the throbbing wound in her shoulder and yanking at the exposed muscle. Ogrifina is on the verge of passing out when Krasnomyrdin tosses her to the ground like a broken toy. He then returns to his flamethrower and begins strapping on its fuel pack. Ogrifina, meanwhile, has discreetly removed a canister of flame-retardant gel from her nearby utility belt and is applying it to her face.

  “You put up a good fight, Prizrak,” Fakel says as he lurches toward her, “... but unfortunately this is where the Hishniki saga truly ends.” He squeezes his flamethrower’s trigger, blasting Ogrifina’s body with a massive stream of ignited flammable liquid. With her eyes clenched tightly shut, Ogrifina’s bodysuit and flame-retardant gel temporarily shield her from being incinerated, but she can soon feel the flames searing through to her skin. The belfry is quickly filled with the stench of her burning hair and flesh. Krasnomyrdin releases his igniparous trigger and glares down at Ogrifina’s smoldering body. Though she can feel her flesh bubbling away, she remains deathly still.

  “Spokonoi Nochi, Prizrak,” he says, crouching down to inspect his kill. When she can sense that her foe is within reach, Ogrifina’s eyes pop open and she clutches Fakel’s throat, her gloved hand still ablaze. She rolls to a crouched position, leaps on her prey, and showers his face with a devastating flurry of flaming-fisted punches. He loses consciousness after a few blows, but Ogrifina continues to drive her fists into his face, which is soon swollen and bedrabbled with gore. She can feel her knuckles shattering with each merciless blow, yet, in a murderous daze, she continues to pound her enemy’s face until it caves in completely and she can see deep inside his exposed skull cavity.

  Mortally wounded and burned beyond recognition, Ogrifina rises to her feet and retrieves her loaded arbalest. She gazes at the mangled face of Kliment Krasnomyrdin one last time before firing an explosive broadhead directly into his fuel pack, causing his remains to detonate on impact in an explosive shower of gore.

  It takes considerable time and effort for Ogrifina to make her way back down the belfry’s winding steps and into the sanctuary below. The Mad Gasser’s gas has now cleared. Ogrifina saunters weakly past his corpse toward the church’s main entrance. When she’s mustered the strength to pull the large wooden door before her open, the entryway is immediate flooded with light from the rising sun. Her legs give way and she stumbles onto the stone steps beneath her. Resting her back against these steps, she gazes up into the clear blue sky above. Though her injuries are direful, Ogrifina Voronina can feel an involuntary smile worming its way across her scorch-marked face.

  The realization dawns on her that, having spent her entire life embracing the darkness—“Dancing with Death,” as her father used to put it—she never actually had an opportunity to enjoy the sunlight or embrace life. How wonderfully incongruous it is then, she thinks to herself, that this is how she will spend her final moments—embracing the light. A cool breeze caresses her welmish flesh, soothing the pain from her grievous wounds, and causing her smile to grow even broader. She struggles to remember the last time she’s smiled like this. Perhaps she’s never actually smiled before at all.

  She knows what she has to do. By killing Fakel, she defaulted on her contract, breaking the inviolability of the Kredo Krovi, and marring her ow
n unblemished track record irreparably. Even if she were to survive her devastating injuries, the balance of her days would be spent on the run and in hiding—constantly looking over her shoulder for other Ubitsayedi who would indubitably be sent to eliminate her. Ogrifina would rather not give anyone else the honor of saying that they were the one to eliminate the legendary Prizrak. She won’t allow herself to become a notch on some other assassin’s belt.

  As the sun shines down upon her, Ogrifina Voronina loads an explosive broadhead into her trusty arbalest. A broad smile remains on her face as she rests the butt-end of her weapon on a stone step between her feet and places her thumb against its trigger. The smile remains on her face as she lowers her forehead and feels the broadhead’s razor-sharp tip pressing against her flesh. The smile remains on her face when she squeezes her thumb willfully against her arbalest’s trigger, launching the broadhead into her skull—obliterating her head in a grisly explosion of fragmented brain matter, flesh, and bone.

  The smile remained on Ogrifina Voronina’s face until her face was no more.

  WHAT THE BLENDER SAW

  BY L.L. SOARES

  This elevator is small enough to be a coffin.

  The metaphor wasn’t lost on Jeff Gangler as he slipped inside. There was just one other person there, a man in a suit who had been working late. For all he knew, they were the last two people left in the building—except for the security guard, of course. But the guard hadn’t seen Jeff come in.

  “Working late?” Jeff asked.

  The man, whose name was Howard Saxon—it had said so on the manila folder—stared straight ahead and did not respond. Either he was too tired or just didn’t want to be bothered. Jeff found this rude and it made his job all the easier.

  The ancient elevator groaned as they moved down.

  Despite the fact that the man tried to avoid eye contact, Jeff slid right in front of him, making it impossible for him to be avoided. He stared straight into Saxon’s eyes. All he needed was a connection.

  “What’s the big idea?” the businessman asked, clearly annoyed that Jeff was invading his personal space. But in such a small elevator, was there really such a thing as personal space?

  Jeff did not say a word, he just maintained eye contact, and then he saw the look on the guy’s face that told him:

  He’s feeling it.

  Before Saxon had any real physical reaction, Jeff stepped back and to the side of the elevator. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just thought you were someone else. Someone I used to know. My eyesight’s not that good.”

  The businessman muttered something under his breath and tried to ignore him.

  “It’s pretty late,” Jeff said, trying to sound empathetic. “Do you usually work so late?”

  Saxon said nothing as they reached the lobby and the door slid open. Jeff gave the man a wide berth and let him leave first.

  Not even a thank you, Jeff thought.

  The security guard wasn’t at his desk. He must have been making the rounds of the building. This time of night, his job was probably pretty lonely.

  Saxon looked over his shoulder, as if suddenly paranoid that Jeff was following him to his car. So, to put his mind at ease, Jeff went in the opposite direction.

  All he needed to do was establish an imprint. He never had to lay a finger on anyone.

  As the businessman got out his keychain and shut off the alarm electronically, Jeff went down the street and got into his own car. He watched the man in his rearview mirror.

  Saxon moved forward to open his car door, but suddenly stumbled back, as if he had been punched in the stomach.

  There was violent activity throughout the man’s body, especially his stomach and upper torso. Jeff could see it even as far away as he was: a series of violent spasms. The street was so quiet, Jeff was sure that if he was a little closer, he could even hear the sounds of the man’s insides struggling to get out.

  The spasms, the jerking about, the whole process made Saxon look like some kind of giant marionette, being jerked around by an angry child. Then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped, and the man dropped to the asphalt. Blood began to drain out of his mouth and ears, creating a puddle on the street.

  Jeff waited a few minutes before he started his engine.

  Fucker didn’t see that coming, he thought as he drove away.

  I met Jeff Gangler when he was in seventh grade and I was in eighth. My family had just moved to the neighborhood, and Jeff lived next door. I’d seen him come and go a few times. He never seemed to have any friends to play with, and went off by himself a lot. One day I got curious and I followed him without him seeing me. He went out to this clearing in the woods behind our houses. There was an old toolshed there. I had no clue whose property it was on, but it looked like no one had used it for eons.

  I looked in the window, and that’s when I saw what he was doing to the cat. It was a white cat that lived with an old woman down our street. She had put up a few flyers with a picture of him and the offer of a twenty-dollar reward if anyone found him.

  I remember thinking that twenty dollars wasn’t much of a reward, even back then. She mustn’t really want her little friend back, I had thought at the time.

  But, watching Jeff in that shed, I quickly learned two things. First, Jeff was a sadistic fuck who was probably going to grow up to be some kind of serial killer. And second, he had no respect for animals.

  It became my mission to befriend him, to channel his impulses elsewhere.

  You see, no matter what I may have done in my life, I’ve never stooped so low as to hurt a defenseless animal.

  “I’ve got to get to work,” she said, sliding off the bed. “I’m going to be late.”

  Jeff didn’t say a word as she retrieved her clothes from the floor.

  “I’m just going to use your bathroom first,” she said. “Where do you keep your towels?”

  He told her and rolled over to watch, but she grabbed some spare towels out of the closet and then shut the door of the bathroom after her. He heard the shower running.

  They had met at the bar of a TGI Fridays. He usually went there for dinner on Wednesday nights. He liked the food and the surroundings just seemed so Middle American and normal. After dinner, he went to the bar to get a couple of beers and pretend to watch whatever everyone else was watching on the television, usually sports. He made the effort to be social.

  Linda was already half in the bag when he offered to buy her a drink. She was there with work friends. It sounded like she was having an especially rough week on the job and had come for the margaritas. At first her friends, older women who introduced themselves but he didn’t remember their names, were protective of her. As it got later, and he and Linda drifted to a booth and started making out, her friends left to go back to their own families, and she was on her own.

  The sex had been good, but the morning had come too quickly. He liked having someone else in bed with him, but she was getting ready to leave. Just once, he wished one of them would call in sick and take the day off to spend with him. But they all seemed in a hurry to go.

  The bathroom door opened and Linda was dressed, and she had done her best not to look too disheveled.

  “Sorry I’ve got to run,” she said. “I’ll be late as it is. See you around.”

  But he knew he probably wouldn’t see her again. The next time she had the urge to drink too much and have a one-night stand, she’d probably go to Ruby Tuesday’s instead.

  This annoyed him, the way they always left in a hurry. And he could have done something to her, but he controlled himself because control was important. He kept telling himself how important it was. So instead of giving her an aneurysm or stopping her heart, like he could have done quite easily, he watched her go.

  On the stairs, she would have a nosebleed. It would be messy and aggravating, since she was in a hurry and all. But it wouldn’t be fatal.

  The telekinesis thing came as a total surprise. One day we were shoot
ing BB guns in the woods when he put up a hand and told me to stop.

  “I’ve got something to show you, Gus,” he said.

  There was a bird sitting on a fence, and he looked at it. He looked at it so hard, I thought he must think it was the most fascinating thing in the world. And then, suddenly, it jerked violently off its perch and dropped to the ground, bleeding. It struggled for a moment on the ground, trying to get up again, and then it stopped moving completely.

  “I did that,” Jeff said. “I did it with my mind.”

  I pretended to be impressed. I had a good idea what he was capable of before we even became friends. You can sense when someone else is like you. It was what had changed my mind when, at first, I seriously considered getting rid of him. For what he did to that cat. It would do the animals of the neighborhood a favor to exterminate him. But two things stopped me. One was the awareness that he could do things with his mind, that he had latent abilities that could be mentored and even exploited. The other thing that stopped me was that we had more than one thing in common. We also shared the desire to hurt, to kill. And I was determined to get him to leave animals alone and move up a level.

  It was time for him to start practicing on humans.

  But first, before we shared any secrets, we were just kids, hanging out. Riding bikes and shooting BB guns. I took it slowly. I studied his patterns. How often he needed to exercise his cruelty. How much control he had over what he could do.

  Slowly, I learned everything I needed to know about Jeff Gangler.

  And then, just as slowly, I began revealing the things that made us alike. But I only showed him what I wanted him to know.