Title: Bullet Between the Eyes
Summary: So I might just be a Max Kasch fan. And he played the Headphone Kid. And I love him. So I've been forced by my obsessive stalker side of my brain to write my version of a sequel. And Headphone boy will star, just no longer as Headphone boy.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone but my own character, Trinity Orestes.
"It seems he will recover," a doctor holding a clipboard next to a 'hospital' bed sighed.
"Perfect. How long?" Another voice entered.
"Well, now that he's woken from his coma, it's just a matter of when he's ready to start moving again. He's perfectly fine now. He shouldn't smoke though. His throat is still healing," the doctor handed the clipboard over and put his hands into his pockets.
"Good, good. I suppose there is no longer any need for you," the other voice stated. A gun was heard and a thump followed. Jackson opened his eyes to see the scene that lay before him. His boss, Tryan, was staring down at him. "We paid a lot of money to get you back into our hands. We do not tolerate failure."
"I know sir," Jackson's voice was raspy.
"You, of course, can make it up to us. There is a young lady in New York. Her company is growing to be far too powerful. This of this a Caesar verses the Senate. Her fellow company men want her taken to them, so they may kill her together—then no one person bares the blame. The sooner you get moving, the happier I'll be. Think about it," and the businessman whom ran the hit man society was gone. Jackson put his arm over his eyes. It was never ending.
""
Two weeks since his departure from the secret hospital, Jackson was sitting on a Subway heading into Manhattan, reading the newest copy of Times. He had checked up on little miss Lisa before he had left from Miami. She had practically become a celebrity for her 'courageous' deeds. It made him sick.
He thought on his latest job. He felt rather confident in everything; at least, with the way things were going. Because he was no longer down south, which was where he typically conducted his business, he needn't worry about anyone recognizing him. He was even able to use Jackson Rippner without worrying.
For the next eight weeks, he would have to track down this Trinity Orestes and follow her wherever she went. He prayed to God that she wasn't another Lisa. He doubted that he could put up with such annoyance once more. But, if she was a businesswoman with power, she probably wasn't going to be miss nicey nice. Hopefully.
She worked just down the street from Trump Towers. Her company was called Caligo Sese. What the hell that meant, he had no idea. It was an international clothing company though, but he bet that she did other, less publicized things as well. ((Do my other readers, whom have read perhaps Artemis Fowl and the Green Lake Vigilantes or even Caligo Sese notice that I like to repeat names and character?))
As the subway screeched to a halt, Jackson stood to exit. The doors had just opened when he was pushed out of the way by some kid with headphones. He bit his lip and muttered nonverbally to himself. He hated people.
He had his suitcase with him. He was, at the moment, heading towards the Hotel in which he would stay in for the next eight, possibly more, weeks. He was quite glad to see he was right in the city. There was always so much crime in a big city. It was always so easy to get away with just about anything.
What he was disappointed to see was that in the room right next door, there was actually someone staying there. He usually liked his privacy to be very private. Everyone knows that the walls of a hotel room are paper-thin. At least there was a balcony though. He could make his phone calls there if need be.
Jackson unpacked all of his things with VH1 blaring. He couldn't hear what disturbing actions were going on in the room next door. Only the thumping of what he assumed was the headboard. He twitched at the thought. He didn't have a wide assortment of clothing. It was mostly suits or other dressy clothes. It didn't take him very long to unpack.
The hit man walked out onto his balcony and leaned his elbows on the railing. As he predicted, his phone went off in his pocket. He pulled it out and flipped it open. "Hello?"
"Rippner," it was Tyran, "are you in the city? I can hear tons of cars."
"Yes, sir, I am. I'm on the balcony, looking out over the city. I think I'm going to enjoy this job," he said, his voice still very raspy.
"Don't get too comfortable. Remember what you have at stake here. Anyhow, just received word that Orestes has left his office and is heading out for dinner at the famous Chinese place. You know the one I'm talking about?" Jackson nodded, though Tyran could not see that.
"I do."
"I've called ahead. You have reservations for eight thirty. I suggest you leave now to make your engagement," Tyran disconnected, and then Jackson followed, flipping his phone shut. It was about seven fifty. He supposed that the traffic was going to take him a while to get there.
Jackson grabbed his suit jacket and his wallet. He turned the TV down, but kept it on. Better to make his neighbors think he was in his room. Much to his enjoyment, the room next door was silent now. He walked out and shut his door, heading for the elevator. In the taxi over, he would have to start thinking of his plan of attack.
t.b.p.: I originally wasn't much of a Red Eye fan, but after I watched it, I did enjoy it. And as stated, I'm a Max Kasch fan. He's the only actual reason that I had even watched it in the first place. Anyhow, I hoped you liked it. Please review.