Bun
Apr 15 2008, 08:43 AM
Yeah I write, a lot; too much, maybe [fan fiction, final fantasy 7 to be specific]. So I'm going to unleash upon you poor souls, the horrid works that spew forth from my mind! Now, just a heads up: I primarily write yaoi (if you don't know what that is, look it up, or not). But I do manage to write a non-yaoi every now and then, one of which I am going to use as an example should any of you be interested in checking out my other stuff (also, if you like what you see, I do take requests!)
This one is called "What We Do (http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3410924/1/What_We_Do)".
It is Turk-esque and a oneshot, not terribly long.
Rating: PG-13
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Those of us who stood in the doorway never troubled ourselves with the lives we were about to destroy; still and watchful, eyes darting spryly about the hall––that was their duty.
And then there were the ones who did the dirty work.
A wife, two kids, small home business.
I held a steady aim with my gun to his head while the man cowered in the corner like a dog, shivering with his tail between his legs. He wasn’t so tough now, what, with all the sh*t he pulled earlier. I guess he really wasn’t expecting to get caught judging by the way he jumped and dropped the bowl he was holding when we so graciously let ourselves in. It shattered into pieces around his feet, but that was the least of his worries.
Probably figured he’d have a bullet in his head soon enough...
“Where is it?” I asked. We were doing something I liked to call a “clean sweep”, which, unfortunately, didn’t happen very much. It’s not that I enjoyed the act of killing people. What sick f*ck would? No, this was different. I liked having the power to burst in unannounced, kick a** and take names. I guess you could say that’s what would happen most of the time. But we would only kill if the situation called for it. And never a peasant either. When we wasted someone, they were always trash who deserved it––nothing more, nothing less.
Again, I asked. “Where…is it?” Man, was he getting on my nerves. I had no patience considering the fact that his wife and children could come home at any moment. We were not as heartless as some claimed. I’d rather do the deed first and get away unnoticed; at least then we wouldn’t burden the family with any unnecessary rage of knowing the face of their beloveds killer. If only he would just tell me what I needed to know...
I glanced to my right at my partner who took it upon himself to search for our reason for coming. He was even trying to be as neat as humanly possible. If it were me, I’d tear the place apart. F*ck being polite. Where was the respect when he decided to start an uproar? You can’t act a certain way and demand to be treated with reverence in return. It doesn’t work like that--never has, never will.
“…Anything?” I spoke over my shoulder. He was still searching, but there was nothing. So I turned my attention back to our target and said something along the lines of, “Look, I’m bein’ nice here. I could put a bullet in your head right now if I wanted to. Alls I’m askin’ is that you tell us where it is and we can get out of your hair. It’s as simple as that.”
We were getting nowhere fast and my patience was running thin. I could feel my finger wrapped around the trigger begin to tremble. Even my arm tensed as I tried not to go off before we got an answer. Maybe all of this was pointless and a waste of f*cking time? If I were in charge, I’d rough him up a little, but the boss didn’t want that. He said to keep it clean, leave no evidence behind if at all possible, and to only use force as a last resort. Still, I was finding it hard to stand there and wait uncomplainingly while the guy did nothing but sh*t his pants.
“Can’t you just look in the general direction? We’ll find it ourselves.”
It was no use. The guy was scared out of his mind. He was barely even breathing, let alone deciding whether or not to tell us what we needed to know. So I lost it. I let one off and went against the boss’s orders. It didn’t hit him, though. The bullet pierced the wall a few inches away from his head in an explosion of white plaster and wood. If I wanted to kill him, I could and would have. But all I was trying to do was get an answer.
To my right, my partner glanced over his shoulder having been startled by the loud crack. Through his dark sunglasses, I could tell he was glaring at me. I smiled sheepishly and dropped the gun to my side. Maybe now we would get somewhere...
“Listen, buddy…” I spoke softly as I came to my knees right in front of him. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates, and I swear I could hear his heart pounding in his chest like a hammer against metal. He was sweating bullets and sat shivering uncontrollably up against the wall. “I’ll make you a deal, but you gotta listen carefully, alright? ‘Cause you know I’m not f*cking around.”
The man nodded furiously; his mouth hung slack.
Good. This was working.
“How about…you tell me where it is I can find what we came for, and I won’t put a bullet in your face next time?”
At first, I thought maybe we’d go through the same thing we’d been over the last half hour, but I was wrong. He nodded––yes––again and finally pushed himself up from the floor. I followed behind eagerly, flashing my partner a sly grin as we rushed by. He stopped his search through the china hutch to tag along, but not before carefully setting down what looked to be some fancy dinnerware.
In a small room that was lined with boxes that reached the ceiling, he fell to his knees and pushed to the side a small rug. Under that rug was the outline of a doorway, which he pulled up to reveal a hiding space. I stood inside the room near a cluttered desk and watched as the man retrieved a small box; the only item not covered in a thin film of dust. He rose from his knees and returned to us, handing the box over. Before we left I needed to check something. All of the papers were in there and intact. Not a thing was missing.
“Good job,” I smiled and patted him on the shoulder with the hand in which I held my gun. He just stood there looking mighty defeated, knowing this was definitely not worth his life. “I don’t want to have to come back here again, you hear me?”
Another furious nod assured me that the man had probably learned his lesson.
As promised, we took our leave; a car waited outside with the engine running. It even seemed that no one had noticed the gunshot either, but that's the city for ya. Another mission well accomplished and without any bloodshed, even if I would have preferred to go about it a different way. Perhaps the boss will throw me a bone in the future?
There was always next time.
[**Author's Note: Sorry about Reno having a gun. I know people have pointed this out to me before, and really gotten mad over it >_<, but it just works better for what I was trying to accomplish. Think of it as they're just starting out and honing their skills--he'll get to the Electro-metallic rod later.]
- -
Alright, so there you go! I'm willing to post more [links] or actual excerpts if you guys want. If you certainly can't wait that long, then let me direct you to my main posting grounds.
On FanFiction.net you can find me under two names:
Hyperminimalism
&
Taichou
On AdultFanFiction.net:
Dee (Some stories NSFW)
This one is called "What We Do (http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3410924/1/What_We_Do)".
It is Turk-esque and a oneshot, not terribly long.
Rating: PG-13
- -
Those of us who stood in the doorway never troubled ourselves with the lives we were about to destroy; still and watchful, eyes darting spryly about the hall––that was their duty.
And then there were the ones who did the dirty work.
A wife, two kids, small home business.
I held a steady aim with my gun to his head while the man cowered in the corner like a dog, shivering with his tail between his legs. He wasn’t so tough now, what, with all the sh*t he pulled earlier. I guess he really wasn’t expecting to get caught judging by the way he jumped and dropped the bowl he was holding when we so graciously let ourselves in. It shattered into pieces around his feet, but that was the least of his worries.
Probably figured he’d have a bullet in his head soon enough...
“Where is it?” I asked. We were doing something I liked to call a “clean sweep”, which, unfortunately, didn’t happen very much. It’s not that I enjoyed the act of killing people. What sick f*ck would? No, this was different. I liked having the power to burst in unannounced, kick a** and take names. I guess you could say that’s what would happen most of the time. But we would only kill if the situation called for it. And never a peasant either. When we wasted someone, they were always trash who deserved it––nothing more, nothing less.
Again, I asked. “Where…is it?” Man, was he getting on my nerves. I had no patience considering the fact that his wife and children could come home at any moment. We were not as heartless as some claimed. I’d rather do the deed first and get away unnoticed; at least then we wouldn’t burden the family with any unnecessary rage of knowing the face of their beloveds killer. If only he would just tell me what I needed to know...
I glanced to my right at my partner who took it upon himself to search for our reason for coming. He was even trying to be as neat as humanly possible. If it were me, I’d tear the place apart. F*ck being polite. Where was the respect when he decided to start an uproar? You can’t act a certain way and demand to be treated with reverence in return. It doesn’t work like that--never has, never will.
“…Anything?” I spoke over my shoulder. He was still searching, but there was nothing. So I turned my attention back to our target and said something along the lines of, “Look, I’m bein’ nice here. I could put a bullet in your head right now if I wanted to. Alls I’m askin’ is that you tell us where it is and we can get out of your hair. It’s as simple as that.”
We were getting nowhere fast and my patience was running thin. I could feel my finger wrapped around the trigger begin to tremble. Even my arm tensed as I tried not to go off before we got an answer. Maybe all of this was pointless and a waste of f*cking time? If I were in charge, I’d rough him up a little, but the boss didn’t want that. He said to keep it clean, leave no evidence behind if at all possible, and to only use force as a last resort. Still, I was finding it hard to stand there and wait uncomplainingly while the guy did nothing but sh*t his pants.
“Can’t you just look in the general direction? We’ll find it ourselves.”
It was no use. The guy was scared out of his mind. He was barely even breathing, let alone deciding whether or not to tell us what we needed to know. So I lost it. I let one off and went against the boss’s orders. It didn’t hit him, though. The bullet pierced the wall a few inches away from his head in an explosion of white plaster and wood. If I wanted to kill him, I could and would have. But all I was trying to do was get an answer.
To my right, my partner glanced over his shoulder having been startled by the loud crack. Through his dark sunglasses, I could tell he was glaring at me. I smiled sheepishly and dropped the gun to my side. Maybe now we would get somewhere...
“Listen, buddy…” I spoke softly as I came to my knees right in front of him. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates, and I swear I could hear his heart pounding in his chest like a hammer against metal. He was sweating bullets and sat shivering uncontrollably up against the wall. “I’ll make you a deal, but you gotta listen carefully, alright? ‘Cause you know I’m not f*cking around.”
The man nodded furiously; his mouth hung slack.
Good. This was working.
“How about…you tell me where it is I can find what we came for, and I won’t put a bullet in your face next time?”
At first, I thought maybe we’d go through the same thing we’d been over the last half hour, but I was wrong. He nodded––yes––again and finally pushed himself up from the floor. I followed behind eagerly, flashing my partner a sly grin as we rushed by. He stopped his search through the china hutch to tag along, but not before carefully setting down what looked to be some fancy dinnerware.
In a small room that was lined with boxes that reached the ceiling, he fell to his knees and pushed to the side a small rug. Under that rug was the outline of a doorway, which he pulled up to reveal a hiding space. I stood inside the room near a cluttered desk and watched as the man retrieved a small box; the only item not covered in a thin film of dust. He rose from his knees and returned to us, handing the box over. Before we left I needed to check something. All of the papers were in there and intact. Not a thing was missing.
“Good job,” I smiled and patted him on the shoulder with the hand in which I held my gun. He just stood there looking mighty defeated, knowing this was definitely not worth his life. “I don’t want to have to come back here again, you hear me?”
Another furious nod assured me that the man had probably learned his lesson.
As promised, we took our leave; a car waited outside with the engine running. It even seemed that no one had noticed the gunshot either, but that's the city for ya. Another mission well accomplished and without any bloodshed, even if I would have preferred to go about it a different way. Perhaps the boss will throw me a bone in the future?
There was always next time.
[**Author's Note: Sorry about Reno having a gun. I know people have pointed this out to me before, and really gotten mad over it >_<, but it just works better for what I was trying to accomplish. Think of it as they're just starting out and honing their skills--he'll get to the Electro-metallic rod later.]
- -
Alright, so there you go! I'm willing to post more [links] or actual excerpts if you guys want. If you certainly can't wait that long, then let me direct you to my main posting grounds.
On FanFiction.net you can find me under two names:
Hyperminimalism
&
Taichou
On AdultFanFiction.net:
Dee (Some stories NSFW)