My writing teacher has decided to give my class an assignment in which he have to write a novel, screenplay, or memoir that is at least fifty pages long. Since I've already written about a hundred pages for this story (frightening, I know), I asked her if I could use this, along with the other chapters I'd be writing. She's agreed, so I basically have to have this story finished within two months.

This means that I have to start working at a faster pace than I have been. Also, I've received comments suggesting that I create shorter chapters for quicker updates, instead of fifty-page behemoths every two weeks. Because of both these things, I'm going to try and chop up what would have been single chapters into thirds and fourths.

The following chapter is only a portion of what would have been one entire chapter. It's six pages long, but it only took a few days to complete, and I really do need to speed up the pace. Expect this pattern to continue: much shorter chapters coming every few days, rather than one bulky one every two weeks.

I hope I can get this done in time. It'll be hard to write it all in only two months. Plus, I have to edit out all the incest for the sake of not destroying the fragile minds of my teacher and classmates.

-----

THE ONE WARNING: There are no warnings. Proceed at your own risk, and bring some garlic and a crucifix.

-----

Disclaimer: Sure I own 'em. Now excuse me while I pry these attorneys off of my kneecaps while removing the bamboo shoots from underneath my fingernails.

-----

A Twisted Kind of Brotherhood

Long Title, Small Beverage

It was the morning of December 28th that Jackson walked casually down one of the roads winding its way through the woods. Although he pretended to be merely wandering aimlessly, he was deliberately making his way towards the house into which Anna Napolitano would be moving.

He had only spoken to Sal and Kevin the day before, so his instructions were clear in his mind. Inwardly, Jackson was anxious to see the girl whom he'd been hired to kill. In a rather morbid way, it fascinated him, the knowledge that it was only a matter of days before the girl's heart beat no longer.

As he rounded a corner, Jackson could spy a large moving van parked in front of one of the nicer houses in the neighborhood. Various movers were going back and forth with boxes in their arms. Jackson spied a middle-aged couple standing amidst the flurry of activity, and he could only guess that they were Anna's parents.

Standing off to the side, Jackson watched the hustle and bustle with curious interest, wondering when the object of his malevolence would appear. After only a few seconds of patient waiting, the lanky form of a teenage girl burst through the front door and sprinted happily to the moving van, long hair waving behind her.

Jackson smiled. Anna had made her entrance.

As the young girl struggled to pick up a large cardboard box, Jackson strolled up to her and asked with faux curiosity, "You new here?"

Surprised, Anna nearly dropped the box she was carrying before she turned to see who had spoken to her. As soon as she spied Jackson, Anna appeared to relax somewhat, smiling as she replied, "Yeah. My family just got here a half an hour ago." Adjusting the box in her arms, she asked, "Do you live around here?"

Jackson nodded. "Yeah, my house is on the other side of the woods. I didn't even know we had people moving here." With fake concern lacing his voice, he asked, "You want some help with that?"

Anna nodded gratefully and placed the box in Jackson's outstretched arms with relief. "Thanks."

"No problem." Moving his arms underneath the cardboard bottom, Jackson turned to Anna as she grabbed a lighter load. "Where does this go?"

"Um…the den, I think." She made her way towards the house, motioning for Jackson to follow her.

As they entered the roomy house, Jackson couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. With its high ceilings, spacious rooms, and freshly painted walls, it was easily one of the best-looking houses in the area. He knew that the house would only be occupied by Anna and her parents, yet it was easily twice the size of the rundown shack he shared with three other people. Not to mention nicer and cleaner by a long shot. Yet Anna pranced through it without notice, apparently used to such pleasant abodes.

As the two of them entered the den area, the boxes landed on the floor with a graceless 'thud', their carriers relieved to be free of their burdens.

Anna smiled a little as shook out her arms. "So what's your name?"

Leaning against a bare wall, Jackson answered, "It's Jackson."

Holding out her hand to him, Anna said sweetly, "Mine's Anna."

Shaking her hand warmly, Jackson inwardly laughed. There wasn't anything this girl could tell him that he didn't already know, not her name or anything else. Sal had made her life an open book, so there was little need for formalities.

In an attempt to appear charming, Jackson asked, "You want me to help move some more boxes?"

Anna shook her head, insisting, "That's OK. My family and the movers can handle it, and I don't want you to feel like you have to do manual labor for us."

Jackson dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it. It's not a problem."

"You sure?"

Jackson nodded. "Yeah. After all, it's the duty of us strongmen to help out all damsels in distress." To add to this, he flexed his pale, skinny arms to show off his nonexistent biceps. Looking ridiculous, Jackson felt somewhat relieved when Anna giggled a little before laughing outright at his silly gesture.

----------

Only ten minutes after he had climbed awkwardly into Leon's car, Jonathan found himself sitting in a booth at the local Starbucks, sipping a coffee with more adjectives in its name than Jonathan cared to think about.

Sitting across from him was Leon, another long-named drink in his hand. Sipping at their respective beverages quietly, their meeting seemed rather awkward as they said nothing, not even seeming to look at each other.

Finally, after several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Leon attempted to spark conversation when he remarked, "I can't imagine how anyone could work here. Baristas must lose their minds, listening to over-caffeinated customers barking out orders that could fill up half a page. I'd rather deal with lunatics any day of the week."

Jonathan chose not to reply to this, still not entirely thrilled at the idea of being forced to be social. He merely forced a weak smile and went back to sipping his coffee.

Leon noticed Jonathan's lack of enthusiasm, and the air between them became awkward once more. Attempting a different approach, Leon leaned on his elbows and stated, "So…Zsasz. You need to how he's been doing."

Now that they were on the subject he desired to discuss, Jonathan nodded and put down his coffee. "Yes. You said you've had his case for a week?"

Leon nodded. "Yeah. I've been visiting his cell to try to analyze him, but it's been difficult."

Jonathan frowned slightly. "How so?"

Leon gave Jonathan a bit of a helpless smile as he replied, "Zsasz is psychotic. The man is completely bat-shit insane."

Jonathan blinked, surprised. "Really?"

Leon nodded. "I can't imagine how such a blatant psychopath managed to rise so far in the ranks of the mob. Have you seen those marks on his skin?"

Jonathan racked his brain, and recalled the scars that haphazardly marred the man's flesh. "In passing, yes."

Speaking solemnly, Leon said, "Those marks? They're tallies. He makes them to keep track of all the people he's ever killed. From what he's told me, he's up to eighty-four."

Jonathan thought over this, wondering why on earth Falcone would place such a high value on someone so irrationally insane. Deciding that it was beyond him to attempt to understand the mob boss's reasoning, Jonathan asked, "What else has he said?"

Leon shrugged. "He rambles. Half of the time, it's just incoherent muttering."

Ripping open a packet of sugar, Jonathan couldn't help but feel some inward glee. "Sounds interesting."

Leon arched his eyebrow. "Really? Interesting?"

Jonathan shrugged as he dumped the sugar into his coffee. "We're psychiatrists. Aren't we supposed to find men like Zsasz fascinating?"

Leon chuckled lightly. "Well, we're supposed to find everyone's inner psyche fascinating, even if they're as mediocre as can be."

Stirring his drink, Jonathan remarked, "I suppose that means you've been analyzing me the entire time we've been here."

Leon laughed. "Maybe…just maybe."

"Oh, really? And what deep dark secrets have you discovered?"

"Hmm…"

Leon leaned against his elbows, squinting at Jonathan and scrunching up his face as though focusing intently.

After a few seconds, he stated firmly, "You're a nymphomaniac."

Jonathan stared at him blankly until the younger man let out a loud, barking laugh, forcing Jonathan to smile slightly, even as Leon's laughter subsided into smaller giggles.

Sounding a bit giddy, Leon managed to ask, "You believed me, didn't you?"

Jonathan nodded, admitting, "I thought you were serious."

Grinning, Leon told him, "You always seem to think everything's so serious. At work, you never actually look happy."

Considering how to respond to information he already knew, Jonathan chose to shrug lightly. "We work at an asylum. I suppose it's not the most…humorous line of work."

Pulling out a pack of Capris, Leon murmured, "Yeah, I suppose so." As he reached for a lighter, he asked, "Is it OK with you if I smoke?"

Jonathan nodded. "Go ahead."

As Leon lit up, Jonathan happened to glance out a nearby window. Standing a few feet away from it was the blonde man from the parking lot. Surprised and suspicious, Jonathan shifted in his seat. He observed the man cautiously, and saw that he seemed to have nothing better to do than peer at Jonathan curiously.

Jonathan looked over the man, trying to decide what made the man seem so…familiar. Nothing about his face seemed recognizable, but there was something about the way he carried himself, the casual air with which he lounged. For a few seconds, Jonathan seemed unable to decide what to think, until his eyes rested upon a memorable scar upon the man's throat.

"Oh, for the love of…"

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Leon asked, "Something wrong?"

Jonathan shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, no, it's nothing…"

Concerned, Leon asked, "You sure?"

"No, I just…I just thought I recognized someone outside."

Leon seemed unsure of how to take this. Inhaling once again from his cigarette, he checked his watch and mentioned, "It's about 6:30. Do you want me to drive you home?"

Jonathan quickly glanced at the window to see that the blonde phantasm had once again disappeared. "Actually, my car is back at Arkham. Do you think you could drop me off there?"

Leon nodded, gathering his things. "Sure, no problem."

Grabbing his coffee, Jonathan followed Leon back to his car, thinking angrily to himself that he was going to throttle Jackson as soon as he could get his hands around his neck.