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Mr. Johnson

Posted Jun 22, '12 at 9:57pm

sirmed1

sirmed1

57 posts

"Excuse me,” the nervous secretary said over the intercom, "The man from sector seven is here to see you, one Robert Fox.” Mr. Jefferson snapped his head up, eyes narrowing.
"Send him in!” Jefferson barked. Straightening his tie, he stood up, glaring at the opening double doors. Shuffling inside, was a small, pudgy man. His red hair was coated in sweat, and his eyes shot back and forth nervously. For a moment, the room was silent except for the slow ticking of a clock. Mr. Johnson sighed. "Do you know why I asked you to come here?” Robert shuffled forward a step, and then stopped, uncertain. He made a choking sound, cleared his throat, and then said,
"No, sir.” He swallowed nervously.
"No? Well, Mr. Fox, you are here because of your less then satisfactory performance.” Mr. Johnson stood, frowning down at Robert, who unconsciously took a step back. "Here at Sledge Corporations, we need optimal workers. You, "Mr. Johnson sneered, "are not an optimal worker. Will your performance improve?”
Robert saw the rope that Mr. Johnson was throwing him, and leapt for it. "Yes sir! Of course sir! I’ll do my best. I haven’t been sleeping well lately, that’s all. It won’t happen again.” Mr. Johnson held up his hand, and Robert stopped talking.
"Mr. Fox, you’re fired. I do not trust an incompetent worker like yourself to live up to his promises. You may leave.” The doors opened once again, and two stone-faced security guards grabbed Robert by the arms and started dragging him out.
"No! Please! I need this job! I have three kids and a wife! How am I supposed to feed them! Please,-" Robert continued to plead as the doors slowly closed behind him. Mr. Johnson sat down, and had a small smile. He loved his job. He was the iron fist of Sledge Inc., and he certainly enjoyed it. Leaning back, he casually snaked his hand towards the intercom and pressed the red button.
"Ms. Shirley? I’m going home early today,” Mr. Johnson smiled, "If anyone asks, I’m at the bank. Understand?” Ignoring his secretary’s response, he threw an assortment of papers into his briefcase. He briskly walked towards the elevator, a private one he had installed years before. He was the elite of the company, and he felt no need to share his breathing space with the poor peons.  With a "ding!” Mr. Johnson stepped out into the lobby, eyes staring coldly ahead, ignoring the few people who attempted to greet him. He pushed his way through the Koeningsegg CCX that was waiting for him on the opposite side of the courtyard. Sleek, aerodynamic and with a price tag just under $800 000, it was Mr. Johnsons most prized possession. Pulling his keys out of his jacket, he allowed himself a small grin as the car flared brilliantly. Mr. Johnson opened the door, and was about to step in when suddenly a spider web of cracks appeared on the door window. He stared uncomprehending, and then opened his mouth to shout just as a .30 caliber sniper round sped into his skull, at over 3400 feet per second.
Mr. Johnson frowned, slumped forward and fell. A growing pool of blood spread across the pavement.

 

Posted Jun 22, '12 at 10:17pm

sirmed2

sirmed2

157 posts

Still a better love story than Twilight.

 

Posted Jun 24, '12 at 2:12pm

sirmed1

sirmed1

57 posts

With a soft hiss, the bullet silently leapt out of the man's rifle, streaking towards The Targets head. The Target was flung backwards, where he sprawled against the concrete, blood growing into a grisly pool. The Man stood, quickly taking apart his rifle and storing it in his golf bag. Another job done, another man dead. He calmly walked towards the roof door, pushing it open just as the first screams started.
Soon after, a man exited the same building, wearing a police uniform. He looked towards the growing crowd, and curiously sauntered towards it, prepared to wave them away. Pushing his way through the crowd, he started shouting,
"Alright, everyone get going, clear out-" He suddenly stopped, shocked by what was in front of him. Briskly walking forward, he brushed away the few people who had gotten closer. Kneeling, he bent over the prone body of Mr. Johnson, and put his ear against his chest. Subtly, he pushed a small slip of paper into the dead mans pocket.
"He's gone." He said firmly, as if the gaping gunshot wound in the man's face wasn't enough. A police siren could be heard. The officer stood up, and starting pushing people back, forming a perimeter. Suddenly, the air was split by the loud barks of the arriving Police officers, and as the attention turned from the lone officer to the convoy of police vehicles, The Officer slipped his way through the crowd, disappearing into the Sledge Inc. tower.
                   
Detective McLean stood over the dead body of Mr. Johnson. A deep frown was hidden behind his thick red beard, his mind racing. Mr. Johnson had been the defendant in many court cases lately. Unlawful termination had been the leading charge. He kneeled, and examined the angry red circle in the center of Mr. Johnsons head. His eyes were still open, and with his mouth agape, he looked shocked, not necessarily afraid. Frowning, McLean stood and brushed the dust off his pants legs.
Crossing his arms, McLean walked towards the expensive silver sports car, and examined the spider web of cracks left on the window. A techie was busy prying a bullet out of the window as he watched. With a loud "crack!" of breaking glass, the bullet popped out into the techie's gloved hand. Mclean grunted and held out his palm. Holding the bullet up to his face, he frowned even deeper.
"This is a .30 caliber round. Used by both small time assassins and the more lucrative, long ranged hunters," He glanced up at the gleaming building in front of him, "and something tells me we're in no shortage of rich, recently fired folks around here."

 

Posted Jun 24, '12 at 3:47pm

sirmed1

sirmed1

57 posts

With a soft hiss, the bullet silently leapt out of the man's rifle, streaking towards The Targets head. The Target was flung backwards, where he sprawled against the concrete, blood growing into a grisly pool. The Man stood, quickly taking apart his rifle and storing it in his golf bag. Another job done, another man dead. He calmly walked towards the roof door, pushing it open just as the first screams started.

Soon after, a man exited the same building, wearing a police uniform. He looked towards the growing crowd, and curiously sauntered towards it, prepared to wave them away. Pushing his way through the crowd, he started shouting,
"Alright, everyone get going, clear out-" He suddenly stopped, shocked by what was in front of him. Briskly walking forward, he brushed away the few people who had gotten closer. Kneeling, he bent over the prone body of Mr. Johnson, and put his ear against his chest. Subtly, he pushed a small slip of paper into the dead mans pocket.

"He's gone." He said firmly, as if the gaping gunshot wound in the man's face wasn't enough. A police siren could be heard. The officer stood up, and starting pushing people back, forming a perimeter. Suddenly, the air was split by the loud barks of the arriving Police officers, and as the attention turned from the lone officer to the convoy of police vehicles, The Officer slipped his way through the crowd, disappearing into the Sledge Inc. tower.
                   

Detective McLean stood over the dead body of Mr. Johnson. A deep frown was hidden behind his thick red beard, his mind racing. Mr. Johnson had been the defendant in many court cases lately. Unlawful termination had been the leading charge. He kneeled, and examined the angry red circle in the center of Mr. Johnsons head. His eyes were still open, and with his mouth agape, he looked shocked, not necessarily afraid. Frowning, McLean stood and brushed the dust off his pants legs.

Crossing his arms, McLean walked towards the expensive silver sports car, and examined the spider web of cracks left on the window. A techie was busy prying a bullet out of the window as he watched. With a loud "crack!" of breaking glass, the bullet popped out into the techie's gloved hand. Mclean grunted and held out his palm. Holding the bullet up to his face, he frowned even deeper.

"This is a .30 caliber round. Used by both small time assassins and the more lucrative, long ranged hunters," He glanced up at the gleaming building in front of him, "and something tells me we're in no shortage of rich, recently fired folks around here."

 
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