Future Contemporary Cultural Hit-Man Herb

by Heinrich Brueckmann

[OK, you're going to ask "where's the ASFR content" and in this story there really isn't any. However, this piece is so well written that 'ol Ed here is going to exercise the perogatives of the job and post it anyway.    Ed.]

Before I kill you, I’d like to say something on my own behalf.  I’ll tell you that my name is Herb: Frank Herb. 

Don’t try to introduce yourself.  I already know your name anyway, Mister Speakeasy.  If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be lying tied-up on your living room floor with a rag shoved down your throat.  If I didn’t know who you were, I wouldn’t have taped your mouth shut with duct-tape.  By the way: are you having a hard time breathing through all that blood?  I didn’t mean to pop you in the nose like that; you kind of forced me.  You marks never seem to learn: resistance doesn’t pay.  I bet you see that now though.

Given your present situation you may find this difficult to believe, but I’m actually not that terrible of a guy.  I’d even offer you a smoke if you didn’t have duct-tape over your mouth.  I’m sure you won’t mind if I have one.

Things are going badly enough for you as it is, wouldn’t you say, without asking for more trouble?

Hey.  I’m talking to you; would you stop looking over at her?  She’s not going to help you.  You like her though, huh?

Well, don’t look to her for sympathy Mister Speakeasy: she’s got ice-cubes in her chest.

People like you: always splashing your filth in the face of humanity.

Trenchcoat

Sawed-off shotgun

Pocket-watch

Illegally-modified Toshiba-Bishi InfoWear shades.

Blackmarket

Disguised as a  -

Stop squirming around; it’ll all be over soon.  But listen to me first, would you?  Please? 

I work in the Troubleshooting Industry.  I’m a Private Contractor.

 

...and you look like trouble to me...

 


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