The Hitman of Springfield.
Prologue…
It was in the middle of May, and the night was a bleak one. The rain pounded the streets, pattered against the rooves. I was walking through a seedy part of town, the rain dripping down the brim of my Stetson. I was nearly there. I could see the flickering neon sign in the distance, the 'y' fluctuating under the relentless rain drops. As soon as I got to the door, I knew it was going to be an easy job. There was nobody there, just the barkeep. As soon as I went inside, he looked up at me. He knew why I was there, or at least he thought he did. "What'll it be, Shay?" he asked me in a coarse voice. "I don't want your drinks, John" I replied. "I want answers." I sat down at the bar. "You were so good at your job, Gibbs. Why did you leave?" He looked at me with his usual, dismal stare. "You're fighting a losing battle, Shay. It won't be long before Tony controls this town. I suggest you join me if you want a share of the spoils." He turned his back to me and started looking through the cupboards. "Just think about it Shay." He said. "He's more powerful than you think." I stood up and pulled out my gun. "You used to be a good man, Gibbs." I said before I pulled the trigger. He let out a yell and collapsed to the ground. I bent down beside him and realized he was looking for his revolver. It was a shame I had to kill him, but I had a job to do. I took out my Trench knife and cut off a trophy for the mantle, and I left the old bar room, going back into the rain.
One
"I'm impressed, Shay." Said my boss. "I honestly didn't think you could do it. After all, Johnathan Gibbs was one of your best friends, was he not?" He waited patiently for my answer. Of course, Gibbs was a close friend of mine, we had been doing this job together for a long time, but my primary concern wasn't who my friends were, it was getting my pay. I killed people for a living, it's what I did. So I killed who I had to kill, and frankly, I didn't give a shit who it was. "Yes, he was a friend of mine." I replied. "I did what I had to do."
"And that's why I need more people like you!" He shouted suddenly. He pounded his fist on his desk. "You see Shay, you're the kind of guy who gets shit done. You know what I mean?" You see my boss was an odd guy. He'd been at this business for years, and I think it was starting to mess with him. He'd been running the black market in Shelbyville for years, and he basically owned the place. He'd paid off all the cops, bought up all the local newspapers, and his cousin was the mayor. His name was Jimmy "Mace" Caldwell. He got the nickname Mace because when he started out as a hitman like me, he killed all his enemies with one. He was a collector of old weapons, which I figured out after my first kill, when he gave me set of old Colt navy revolvers. I ended up using those pistols in almost every kill I made after that. "I'm glad you could get here," he said to me more calmly, "because I've got another job for you." He took out an old Luger from a drawer in his desk, and stared intently at me. "I had heard that Fat Tony's gonna be at a bar in Springfield tomorrow, it's called Moe's." Then he slid the gun to me. "I want you to whack the son of a bitch." When he said that I thought he lost his mind. We had no business in Springfield, and Fat Tony had too strong a hold in that city. There was no way I could pull it off, but I couldn't argue with him. It was my job. "I know it sounds like a stupid idea." He said, "But you're the only guy who can take him out." I picked up the pistol. It was in very good condition for its age, and it was loaded. "Why couldn't we just wait for him to come here?" I asked. "Because he never will, Shay. He knows we're after him. This may be the only chance we'll get in a long time, and frankly, I'm getting tired of waiting." I had no choice but to do it. You see, if anyone ever turned down a job, Mace didn't take it lightly. That's why I had to kill Johnny Gibbs, all the Fat Tony bullshit only came along because he needed protection from him. I didn't want to go like Gibbs did, so I accepted. "I want you to kill him with that gun, by the way." Mace said. "Why?" I asked. "The bullets in it are filled with cyanide. We can't take any chances with this guy." He replied. I took the gun, and was about to leave his office. "Shay!" he said as I was opening the door. "Don't fuck this up, Shay!" I didn't respond to this, because I had no idea if I would get out of this with my life. I stuck the Luger in my coat pocket, and went home.