Rik_the_Riff
Random Guy
- Joined
- Jul 29, 2003
- Messages
- 134
So you've heard me talking about my 'big ideas'. I figure it's about time I showed some goods on a smaller scale. To follow is a prose short story about my favourite of my characters, mercenary Johnny Splinter. Any feedback is welcome. It should be noted that unlike most of the work I have done regarding Johnny, this is prose - I mostly write screen- and teleplays. I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Unexpected Guests
Johnny sat in the dimly-lit booth in the wall of the Frontiers bar, nursing a vodka lime. He had bought the shot an hour and a half previously, but it was barely half-drunk. The mercenary was between jobs, and bored with the situation. So he sat in Frontiers, counting on his formidable reputation to bring people with problems to him. He had employed this method for several months now, with great success. The method had one problem; it sometimes meant occasional extended periods of inactivity, however, and Johnny was not well-disposed towards idleness.
Glancing around the room, he saw that his wait appeared to have come to an end. A man stood at the bar, talking to the barkeeper. Sam pointed in Johnny's direction. The man said something - probably a word of thanks - and walked towards Johnny's booth. As the man approached, Johnny shifted his left hand from his glass down to his thigh, feeling for the familiar butt of the Henk 7 special laser pistol which was his weapon of choice. Just in case.
As the man approached, Johnny got a good look at him. He was tall, with a build best described as average, but he moved with a kind of calculating, subconscious grace which suggested a man trained for killing. He wore black nylon combat trousers, a dark pullover and an open puff jacket, similar to Johnny's own attire. He had an even face, with high cheekbones and a pronounced jaw. His blue eyes were red-rimmed, from stress rather than sleep loss, judging by the way he moved. The head was crowned with bleached-pale hair which, combined with his dark skin, suggested someone who had emigrated from Terra to one of the arid early colonies - probably Cirrus, Johnny decided, as the man seemed unaccustomed to the lower gravity.
The man reached Johnny's booth. He placed his hands on the table to show he offered no threat, and leaned forward to speak.
"Johnny Splinter?" The voice was strong and rough, and betrayed no accent.
"That's me", replied the mercenary, casual and unperturbed, "Something I can do for you?"
"May I sit?"
"Go ahead" The man sat.
"My name is Andar Trask. I am looking for an assassin, and was told to seek you out."
"You've found me. Get to the point," Splinter was eager for work, and had no time for procrastination.
"The man I want killed is Thomas Scheller, a Dainan businessman."
"Should I know the name?" It sounded vaguely familiar.
"He makes engines for Magna star-fighters," the man replied. Johnny recognised the name now. "And arranges the deaths of those who oppose him". The last was said with such vicious revulsion that Johnny could guess why Trask wanted Scheller dead.
"Where can I find Scheller?" Johnny got back to business.
"In a week, he will arrive on Adelphus for a meeting with the manager of Magna Corporation. I do not want him to leave the planet. He is booked into the Lucine suite of the Starfarer hotel near Eden city spaceport." For the next ten minutes, Trask outlined a plan by which Johnny could perhaps reach Scheller. The plan was a capable one, lending weight to Johnny's theory of Trask as a trained fighter. Johnny was curious as to the man's history, but wanted to remain professional about the assignment. Trask told the mercenary to bring him Scheller's wedding ring as proof of the kill. Johnny named his price. Trask paid the advance and left. Johnny waited a few minutes, drained his glass, thanked Sam and left for Adelphus.
A week later, Johnny stood outside the gardens of the Starfarer hotel on Adelphus, an elaborate and un-self-consciously expensive building, styled in retro architecture with deep mortar-gaps between its beige brickwork, here and there ribbed with ornate stonework dados. Before it, shielding the occupants from the noise which would otherwise roll off the road, was the garden, a veritable jungle of the semi-tropical plants common on the humid world. Johnny stood for a few minutes, enjoying the faint odour of freshness and life in the air. Then he took his gun from its holster which now nestled under his right shoulder, vaulted the fence right-handed and was off, cat-like and agile, through the gently sighing jungle.
It took him only a moment to reach the hotel wall, his dark clothing concealing his fluid movement from any sentries Scheller may or may not have posted. He found an external drainpipe and, having returned his gun to its holster, he used mortar-cracks and fluting as toe-holds and began to pull himself up. It was an agonising eight metres to Scheller's floor. Once up there, Johnny found himself with a good two metres of empty air between the drainpipe and Scheller's balcony.
However, one of the building's ribs ran across at eye-level, and there was a mortar crack for him to dig his toes into. He eased himself off the drainpipe, daunted by the almost-certainly-fatal fall beneath him and edged slowly and cautiously across the gap. As he climbed over the wall of Scheller's balcony, Johnny realised his hands were sweating and his heart pounding like a steam-hammer in his chest. He took out his gun again and sneaked a look through a crack in the curtains. The room was large and opulent. As well as a door into the inside of the hotel, there were doors on both other walls. A mirror-faced walk-in wardrobe adorned the right wall. Scheller himself sat in the far-left corner at a desk, his head bowed over something he was writing. His bodyguards were nowhere to be seen. Idiot! thought Johnny.
Johnny smashed the glass inwards with the butt of his pistol then, with his off hand wrenched down the heavy curtains. Scheller looked up at Johnny's entrance, momentarily stunned. Johnny took advantage of the other man's confusion to shoot Scheller twice in the head. He slumped to his desk, dead.
Johnny was across the room in seconds and down behind Scheller's desk, holstering his gun and tugging at the man's ring-finger. The wedding ring came free. Johnny tucked it into the pocket sewn into the inside of his cuff and was just about to stand when a door opened. Before he could react, a gun-barrel was pushed into the back of his head. He raised his hands, hoping the stunner-flashlight in his watch was as good as the man who sold it him said it was. He looked up.
Four men stood across the room from him. The mirror on the wardrobe revealed four more behind him. He made a mental note to demand extra from Trask for the faulty information. As he closed his eyes to shield himself from the stunner's effect, he heard the door opposite the balcony slam open. There was the quiet-scream of a gunshot and the gun was gone from the back of his head.
Instantly, Johnny's gun returned, almost super-naturally quickly, to his hand. He threw himself round into a roll. His gun screamed emerald rays at the three remaining guards behind him, who fell. He rolled over onto his back, sat up and found his own shots mingling with cyan rays from the door and ruby blasts from the guards.
It was over in seconds. Johnny got to his feet and looked his rescuer over. The other man was a little taller than he, with a rounded, slightly red face and friendly eyes. His hair was brownish-grey and he was grinning. Johnny recognised him instantly.
"Hello again, Johnny. How much now?"
"Good to see you again, Arnie. I think, with this one, I've cleared two hundred"
The other was jealous, "I've only managed a little over one-fifty"
"That puts me what? Ninety ahead, total?"
"Something like that"
Both men were talking in thousands of credits - the fees they had collected since their previous meetings. Six months ago, when the old friends had run into each other, they had agreed to keep score. They had met once since then, but Johnny had been firmly in the lead.
"Johnny, I think you must be slipping," said Arnie, indicating the mess which remained of the room.
"I had it under control"
"Oh yeah?" The other was incredulous.
Johnny tapped his watch, "Magnesium-flash stunner in the dial. Designed for precisely this purpose."
"Handy. Where'd'you get it?"
"Custom job. I can give you the guy's number."
"Thanks"
"Let's see where Scheller's two extra guards came from, then we can have a drink and catch up."
Johnny inspected the bodies. Two bore distinct, and familiar, scars.
"Claws," He said. Arnie stopped dead at the mention of the assassin's brotherhood.
"Claws only do assassination, not guarding," said Arnie, perplexed.
"That makes this a set-up. But which one of us for?"
"Does it matter?"
"Maybe. It means I can get extra out of Trask when I see him."
"I'm glad to hear it. Let's go find a pub and you can buy me a drink."
"Why am I buying?" said Johnny in mock-outrage. Arnie rose to the bait with a twinkle in his eye.
"One, it was you idea. Two, you owe me one -"
"No I don't. Not after that asteroid scam." Johnny interrupted.
"I didn't know about that at the time. Three," he continued forcefully, "You got the money this time. Twenty-odd, right?"
"Thirty, with the wrong-info bonus."
"Whatever. The point stands - You're buying."
The two friends bickered and laughed their way out as the police arrived downstairs.
Unexpected Guests
Johnny sat in the dimly-lit booth in the wall of the Frontiers bar, nursing a vodka lime. He had bought the shot an hour and a half previously, but it was barely half-drunk. The mercenary was between jobs, and bored with the situation. So he sat in Frontiers, counting on his formidable reputation to bring people with problems to him. He had employed this method for several months now, with great success. The method had one problem; it sometimes meant occasional extended periods of inactivity, however, and Johnny was not well-disposed towards idleness.
Glancing around the room, he saw that his wait appeared to have come to an end. A man stood at the bar, talking to the barkeeper. Sam pointed in Johnny's direction. The man said something - probably a word of thanks - and walked towards Johnny's booth. As the man approached, Johnny shifted his left hand from his glass down to his thigh, feeling for the familiar butt of the Henk 7 special laser pistol which was his weapon of choice. Just in case.
As the man approached, Johnny got a good look at him. He was tall, with a build best described as average, but he moved with a kind of calculating, subconscious grace which suggested a man trained for killing. He wore black nylon combat trousers, a dark pullover and an open puff jacket, similar to Johnny's own attire. He had an even face, with high cheekbones and a pronounced jaw. His blue eyes were red-rimmed, from stress rather than sleep loss, judging by the way he moved. The head was crowned with bleached-pale hair which, combined with his dark skin, suggested someone who had emigrated from Terra to one of the arid early colonies - probably Cirrus, Johnny decided, as the man seemed unaccustomed to the lower gravity.
The man reached Johnny's booth. He placed his hands on the table to show he offered no threat, and leaned forward to speak.
"Johnny Splinter?" The voice was strong and rough, and betrayed no accent.
"That's me", replied the mercenary, casual and unperturbed, "Something I can do for you?"
"May I sit?"
"Go ahead" The man sat.
"My name is Andar Trask. I am looking for an assassin, and was told to seek you out."
"You've found me. Get to the point," Splinter was eager for work, and had no time for procrastination.
"The man I want killed is Thomas Scheller, a Dainan businessman."
"Should I know the name?" It sounded vaguely familiar.
"He makes engines for Magna star-fighters," the man replied. Johnny recognised the name now. "And arranges the deaths of those who oppose him". The last was said with such vicious revulsion that Johnny could guess why Trask wanted Scheller dead.
"Where can I find Scheller?" Johnny got back to business.
"In a week, he will arrive on Adelphus for a meeting with the manager of Magna Corporation. I do not want him to leave the planet. He is booked into the Lucine suite of the Starfarer hotel near Eden city spaceport." For the next ten minutes, Trask outlined a plan by which Johnny could perhaps reach Scheller. The plan was a capable one, lending weight to Johnny's theory of Trask as a trained fighter. Johnny was curious as to the man's history, but wanted to remain professional about the assignment. Trask told the mercenary to bring him Scheller's wedding ring as proof of the kill. Johnny named his price. Trask paid the advance and left. Johnny waited a few minutes, drained his glass, thanked Sam and left for Adelphus.
A week later, Johnny stood outside the gardens of the Starfarer hotel on Adelphus, an elaborate and un-self-consciously expensive building, styled in retro architecture with deep mortar-gaps between its beige brickwork, here and there ribbed with ornate stonework dados. Before it, shielding the occupants from the noise which would otherwise roll off the road, was the garden, a veritable jungle of the semi-tropical plants common on the humid world. Johnny stood for a few minutes, enjoying the faint odour of freshness and life in the air. Then he took his gun from its holster which now nestled under his right shoulder, vaulted the fence right-handed and was off, cat-like and agile, through the gently sighing jungle.
It took him only a moment to reach the hotel wall, his dark clothing concealing his fluid movement from any sentries Scheller may or may not have posted. He found an external drainpipe and, having returned his gun to its holster, he used mortar-cracks and fluting as toe-holds and began to pull himself up. It was an agonising eight metres to Scheller's floor. Once up there, Johnny found himself with a good two metres of empty air between the drainpipe and Scheller's balcony.
However, one of the building's ribs ran across at eye-level, and there was a mortar crack for him to dig his toes into. He eased himself off the drainpipe, daunted by the almost-certainly-fatal fall beneath him and edged slowly and cautiously across the gap. As he climbed over the wall of Scheller's balcony, Johnny realised his hands were sweating and his heart pounding like a steam-hammer in his chest. He took out his gun again and sneaked a look through a crack in the curtains. The room was large and opulent. As well as a door into the inside of the hotel, there were doors on both other walls. A mirror-faced walk-in wardrobe adorned the right wall. Scheller himself sat in the far-left corner at a desk, his head bowed over something he was writing. His bodyguards were nowhere to be seen. Idiot! thought Johnny.
Johnny smashed the glass inwards with the butt of his pistol then, with his off hand wrenched down the heavy curtains. Scheller looked up at Johnny's entrance, momentarily stunned. Johnny took advantage of the other man's confusion to shoot Scheller twice in the head. He slumped to his desk, dead.
Johnny was across the room in seconds and down behind Scheller's desk, holstering his gun and tugging at the man's ring-finger. The wedding ring came free. Johnny tucked it into the pocket sewn into the inside of his cuff and was just about to stand when a door opened. Before he could react, a gun-barrel was pushed into the back of his head. He raised his hands, hoping the stunner-flashlight in his watch was as good as the man who sold it him said it was. He looked up.
Four men stood across the room from him. The mirror on the wardrobe revealed four more behind him. He made a mental note to demand extra from Trask for the faulty information. As he closed his eyes to shield himself from the stunner's effect, he heard the door opposite the balcony slam open. There was the quiet-scream of a gunshot and the gun was gone from the back of his head.
Instantly, Johnny's gun returned, almost super-naturally quickly, to his hand. He threw himself round into a roll. His gun screamed emerald rays at the three remaining guards behind him, who fell. He rolled over onto his back, sat up and found his own shots mingling with cyan rays from the door and ruby blasts from the guards.
It was over in seconds. Johnny got to his feet and looked his rescuer over. The other man was a little taller than he, with a rounded, slightly red face and friendly eyes. His hair was brownish-grey and he was grinning. Johnny recognised him instantly.
"Hello again, Johnny. How much now?"
"Good to see you again, Arnie. I think, with this one, I've cleared two hundred"
The other was jealous, "I've only managed a little over one-fifty"
"That puts me what? Ninety ahead, total?"
"Something like that"
Both men were talking in thousands of credits - the fees they had collected since their previous meetings. Six months ago, when the old friends had run into each other, they had agreed to keep score. They had met once since then, but Johnny had been firmly in the lead.
"Johnny, I think you must be slipping," said Arnie, indicating the mess which remained of the room.
"I had it under control"
"Oh yeah?" The other was incredulous.
Johnny tapped his watch, "Magnesium-flash stunner in the dial. Designed for precisely this purpose."
"Handy. Where'd'you get it?"
"Custom job. I can give you the guy's number."
"Thanks"
"Let's see where Scheller's two extra guards came from, then we can have a drink and catch up."
Johnny inspected the bodies. Two bore distinct, and familiar, scars.
"Claws," He said. Arnie stopped dead at the mention of the assassin's brotherhood.
"Claws only do assassination, not guarding," said Arnie, perplexed.
"That makes this a set-up. But which one of us for?"
"Does it matter?"
"Maybe. It means I can get extra out of Trask when I see him."
"I'm glad to hear it. Let's go find a pub and you can buy me a drink."
"Why am I buying?" said Johnny in mock-outrage. Arnie rose to the bait with a twinkle in his eye.
"One, it was you idea. Two, you owe me one -"
"No I don't. Not after that asteroid scam." Johnny interrupted.
"I didn't know about that at the time. Three," he continued forcefully, "You got the money this time. Twenty-odd, right?"
"Thirty, with the wrong-info bonus."
"Whatever. The point stands - You're buying."
The two friends bickered and laughed their way out as the police arrived downstairs.
