Skulls, Crosses, and Bones
The Hit part III
The Hit part III
It was the same again.Andrew busted the door into the tiny apartment open while making his best war face again. Once more, he saw the room full of thugs and dodged out of the doorway. While the rest of the krewe gathered around the doorway, Joey again crept down the hallway, getting lost in the shadows by the stairwell. As he had so many times before, the Creeping Inferno infused Joey’s form into the bordless void of darkness and the gangster turned ghost hunter turned hitman found himself inside the bedroom of the apartment the krewe was preparing to assault. One of the gangbangers stood in the doorway to the main room with his back to Joey. Once again Joey , took two silent steps toward the unsuspecting thug and raised the barrel of the gold-laiden flintlock to bear st the base of the man’s skull. Time stood still. Despite the stillness of it all, an inferno engulfed the aprtment and all within, except Joseph and his prey. Joey heard in his head again,
Take this life in my name, and you will know great powerWithout hesitation, Joey squeezed the trigger and a ball of lead exploded through the thug’s spinal cord. In an instant that lasted a lifetime, the flames from the apartment all wash over Andrew’s still form and retreated into the floor. Were time to ever speed up, that would be when the rest of the krewe rushed into the apartment that overlooked Circle Street and easily dispatched the remaining thugs. But that only happened the first time. Now every time this scene played itself out in Joey’s mind, he would awaken in a panic. This gasping and rapidly sitting up from a restless sleep would be different than the dozen or so other times this occured. This time, Joey would be greeted by a zippo striking his forehead. “I have got to take care of this,” Joey mumbled to himself. A little over 7 hours later, Joey was sneaking into his own family’s graveyard. It’s not that he wasn’t allowed there, it’s that if anyone in the family knew how much time Joey spent there, questions would follow. Questions that Joey couldn’t begin to answer. No way could the family accept trafficking with the dead as any sort of acceptable. His uncle Sal had only dabbled in the occult and lost all standing in the family. Joey approached his grandfather’s mausoleum while straightening his hat and jacket. “No need, my boy, you’d knock any dame dead in that hat.” “Grampa Don, it’s good to see you.” The ghost of Donatello Cogniti strolled through the front door of the mausoleum onto the cemetery lawn. “Would you do me a favor and knock a dame dead somewhere around here?” “I’ll see what comes up. Listen, grampa, I’m headed downstairs for a bit. I shouldn’t be down too long.” Joey pulled the razor from it’s sheath and flicked the blade out. “The last time you said that you were gone for a week.” Don began nervously pacing, “I don’t want to lose my only relative who still comes and talks to me.” “It’ll be alright, grampa. I promise.” With that, Joey pulled the blade across his hand.