Hey everyone. Long-time reader on this section and others, but this is my first posting. I hope you guys enjoy the story I've created, let me know what you think with a review!
This is how I think Guerrero could have got into business with the Old Man.
Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target, and am making no profit off of this fanfiction. I am only borrowing these characters for my enjoyment!
Guerrero swiped the trickling beads of sweat from his heated-up brow, taking a deep breath. That had been hard work. He'd chased the dude all across the abandoned warehouse district, and only caught up to him because the moron was too stupid to realize that "dead end" really did mean "dead end".
As he wiped his hands on his dark pants, cleaning them of the blood and sweat that the job had brought about, he thought back to the man's last moments of life.
"Please, don't kill me!" the man had begged, his hands clasped together while he pleaded on his knees.
Guerrero had faltered briefly, staring into the man's hopeless eyes. He knew the guy's story: wife and kids, two-story house with a white-picket fence. His business had gone under and he'd turned to the wrong people for help, then he couldn't pay up. He'd gone to even worse people to try and fix his problem, and that had gone south - big surprise. So, his life had been ordered terminated. Guerrero was the terminator.
He chuckled dryly at that thought, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of clapping hands behind him.
"Well done, Guerrero," the man behind him said, his deep, accented voice easily recognizable.
Guerrero blinked before turning around, not wanting to show any uneasiness. "Did I pass your test?"
The Old Man scrutinized him for a moment, looking down at the bloodied body at Guerrero's feet. "He was a beggar, was he?"
Guerrero shrugged. "Didn't do him much good."
"No, it didn't," the older of the two agreed. "I suppose we should send flowers to his wife and sons. Do you think a note would be too much?"
Guerrero didn't let on that he thought that was overkill - sadistic overkill at that. Instead, he shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat, dude. Am I in, or what?"
The Old Man sighed. "You're certainly a capable hit man," he agreed. "But hit men I have. I need men who can get the job done without leaving a trace. Think you can clean this mess up?"
"What kind of time-limit we talking about here?" Guerrero needed to know.
"What if I said ten minutes?" the Old Man challenged.
Guerrero raised an eyebrow at that, digging into the pocket of his black pants. He pulled out a travel-sized container of butane and a box of matches. With a half-look at his companion, he poured the contents of the container all over the remains and blood. Once the container was emptied, he pulled out a couple matches, striking them and watching the orange flames dance around. Seconds later, he tossed the matches onto the body. He stepped back to allow the fire room to breathe, the butane catching fire and burning the remains of Arthur Woodford.
The Old Man nodded as they watched the blaze, grinning in satisfaction. "Well, Mr. Guerrero, I think you'll fit right into our little family."
Guerrero nodded, waiting until his new boss left to let out a long, shaky breath. It wasn't as though it was his first kill, but he could tell this was more than just the start of a new career. If he wasn't careful, he could end up like Arthur Woodford.
He returned to the warehouse after the flames and smoke had dissipated, cleaning up the remnants of the murder that had occurred in the abandoned building. When he was done, it was as though nothing had ever happened. But he knew that it had - he would always remember this day. Not as the first day of the rest of his life, not as day one of his new job, but as the first time he'd ever sent money to a widow.
Well, how did I do? Did you guys like it? I don't want to beg for reviews, but I'm dying to know what you think!