Flawless - The Epitome Of Perfection

[Surya]

ahh..okay...well I don't really know how Canadians talk...I just assumed they spoke like Americans. :P

Well..herez the next few. I kinda merged in links to the tools that are being used so ppl know what I"m talking abt if that makes a difference. :P

5.
When I awoke for the second time that day I knew my name. I repeated it to myself as I unlocked the door and stepped outside. There was a man at the sink washing his hands. I smiled at him. He did the same. I walked out. The same man who I had seen before that day stood at the terminal with his sign. But this time he was important. He had meaning. As I approached him I repeated my name once more. I stopped in front in of him and looked down directly into the name he held. It was mine.

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6.
"Mr. Parker? " I studied his face before replying. He was young. Mid- twenties probably. His arms bulged beneath his chaffeur's suit and his tan skin reflected the airport lights. I couldn't see his eyes because he wore a pair of black shades.
"Mr. Parker?" he asked again. He probably had about twenty pounds on my one-eighty and it was all muscle.
"Mr. LANCE PARKER!" This time his voice had an edge to it. He was growing irritated. I would have to answer him. Should I?
"That's me." His expression turned to bored.
"Follow me sir. Your car's waiting." He turned and began to walk towards the nearest exit. My car? I followed him.

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7.
"...using newly developed gene therapy, we at Flawless incoporated are able to perfect the imperfections in human skin cells. Unlike mere beauty products on the market before us, Flawless incorporated can guarantee perfect results. The results you desire. For more details visit our interactive website and be sure to join us this weekend at our gala opening parade. We guarantee it will be flawless...using new gene therapy we at Flawless incorporated..."

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8.

As I trailed behind him at a leisurely pace my mind raced with questions. I would have to wait for answers, and I didn't like how waiting felt. He turned his head slightly and glanced at me to see if I was there. Then he pulled a slip of paper out of his pants pocket before looking back once more. I didn't see what was on the paper. We left the airport terminals and went down a few escalators. The trailblazer didn't ask me if I had any baggage to claim. Lucky guess I bet. The sliding exit doors whooshed to the sides and we were on the curb. I squinted. When was the last time I was outside in the sun? We continued walking toward one of the underground parking lots. Once there, I quickly scanned for a familiar car. Nada. I followed him to the end of the lot. Almost every spot was filled with cars but I didn't notice a single person. We stopped at the back of a shiny white stretch limo. I had always liked the little v-shape thingy on the trunk of limos. What do those do anyway? He started to walk immediately to the driver's side door. What was he doing? Suddenly he stopped and he laughed quietly to himself.
"This is too easy," he said. That's when I felt time slow almost to a stop.

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9.
He turned pulling out a Silenced Beretta M92F out of his left inside jacket pocket with his right hand. He was quick and graceful, he had practiced a lot. Not enough. I slapped the gun away with my left hand. It flew off his arm into the air and fell on the roof of the Limo. He was good though. Only hesitated for a quarter of a second before coming at me with a left hook. I watched as my right forearm took the blow, then connected with my own left cross. His jaw unhinged for a moment before I grabbed his head with my right hand and put it through the driver's side window. For the duration of this entire set of actions I had taken one breath. He wasn't moving. Neither was I.

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10.

I pulled his whole body out with my right hand and let it sink into the concrete. He mouth hung open and his head was bleeding. I turned him around, and pulled out his wallet. In it was an ID. "Carl Watson. Age: 32." I looked around to see if anyone was there. No one. I walked to a small booth a couple yards away to see if anyone was iin it. No one. I exhaled when I heard something. I turned around. Carl was standing up by holding on to the roof of the Limo with his left hand, and the M92F in his right. I put his wallet in my pocked and started towards him. He fired once, and the silencer did it's job just fine. One round hit my right pectoral. I kept walking. He fired again, and again, and 2 more times after that very quickly. It hurt, it hurt bad, but somehow I kept going. When I got to him he dropped the pistol backed up into the Limo even more. I grabbed his neck with both my arms as hard as I could. He started to twitch and go into a Seizure. He wanted to scream but it's hard when your Vocal Cords are being smashed. I squeezed some more. His Siezures got violently shaky and his eyes got bright red, and were unusually big. They begged me to let him go as they got ready to pop out of their sockets. "Just a few more seconds there..." I wispered and held him in my grip.....

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11.

I woke up for the third time that day in the passenger seat of the Limo. I looked around. The window was still shattered. I looked down. My chest was still wet with blood. I took it off to check on the wounds. There were no wounds.....

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[crazy]

[Querida]

Surya, read it the day you posted but to rushed to leave comments...wow what suspense i like how you write of him gaining his whereabouts...kinda like the bourne identity and clayface from batman mixed....im wondering how the incident in Canada and this amnesiac man are connected...very intriguing indeed...did you extensively edit this one before posting?...it seems to flow nicely

[maithree]

Sooo sry I was gonna delete thi story, but suddenly got a surge of inspiration!

I'll be updating this regularly now! Will finish it before I start my MBBS Course! So the updates will come very frequently!

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My shirt was still wet with my own blood. I remembered it….the bullets tore through my Pectorals sending agonizing messages to my brain. There was nothing to be seen now. I looked around the car. It was clean except for the dead body in the back seat and pieces of shattered glass from the window. There were a few bloodstains on the back seat coming out of the empty sockets, which once held his eyes. I felt around my bloody chest with the tips of my fingers. Nothing. The Glove Compartment! I went for the glove compartment. It revealed a standard sized white envelope as it yawned open. Open It! I opened it. The Envelope had the large sum of two thousand American dollars. His Coat! I put it in my pocket and reached to the back seat and pulled his coat off of him along with the shoulder holster. A blood stained shirt didn’t seem like the right attire to go out on the street in. I ducked out of the car and put it on. Check The Pockets! I checked the pockets. He had no wallet. It was just the car keys. It was a Photograph of me. I opened the trunk with the keys. It was an interesting find. It was lined inside with a thick, clear plastic wrap. Carefully prepared for a single purpose -- the disposing of a body -- and his fit comfortably. I slammed the lid down and sat in the driver's seat. Now what? Disappointed and mildly sleepy, I let my hand trail along the black leather armrest till it touched the floor. It curled around something. I held it up. A set of matches labeled Cocktail Alley, 925 Venice Blvd, San Francisco, CA. It was a vague clue. But it was a clue. A Clue to my identity.

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I zipped my coat up, and went back into the airport for a taxi. A yellow cab pulled over and a man with a turban and a big mustache looked at me through the passenger window. “Ver to shir?” he asked. I handed him the matchbox.
“The Address on there.” I said pointing to it.
“Okay.” I got in. Cocktail Alley, hope they had what I was looking for. Didn’t know what that was, but just hoped it was there.

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After about twenty minutes I arrived at the Cocktail Alley. It was a downtown, rundown little building, tucked indiscreetly between a corner store and a florist. The paint was a puke brown and peeling like a ripe banana. I looked at the Cab driver. “How much?”
“$45.56” he said pointing at the meter. I gave him a fifty from the stack in my pocket and got out. The chilly air gave me goosebumps. The ground was wet, the sky was clouded, and the breeze was cold. The driver handed me the change. I took it and stuffed it in my pocket. He took off. The neon sign flickered. I started towards the bar checking my holster. The silenced berretta was there. I could smell the Nicotine as I got closer to the bar. I opened the door and a pungent tobacco stench hit me in the face.

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I found myself in a bare ten by ten room. From the ceiling hung a naked bulb giving off a dirty light. The tiny room was almost empty. Across from me I spotted a wooden door, guarded by a sleeping African American on a rusty metal chair. He was tall. Maybe six-five. His head was slightly lumpy and topped off with a buzz cut. His arms hung down from the chair he sat in. I quietly went towards the door, hand outstretched. His arm swung up with a 12-gauge shotgun pointed at my chest. I froze. His eyes opened slowly. "Hell you want? We closed." He scratched his chest with his other hand.
"Uh...I need a drink." He kept his eyes on me. They were like dark coals, just burnt out.
"I asked you a question. You didn't give me an answer." He said slowly bobbing the firearm up and down like he was following some beat in his head. The barrel seemed to growl at me like a hungry pitbull.
"I need to speak to someone inside."
"Come back when we open. I might let you in.” I sighed and turned around pretending to walk away. Then suddenly spun around and pushed the barrel away from me, showing him mine. He stared down the sights of the beretta. It was less than an inch in front of his face.
"Maybe you let me in now. I'm busy later." He thought for a moment before he pulled the shotgun back and stood up.
"I guess it's aight. Just don't make any trouble, you hear?" He pushed the door open behind him and stepped aside. I looked at the shotgun. “What? What do you want now?!”
“You weren’t going to pull the trigger were you?”
“Not yet atleast.” I slightly smiled and walked it.
“I hear.” I said and the door slammed behind me.

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To be Continued....[/tscii]

[madhu]

surya maithree

[pavalamani pragasam]

munnaadiyE kaNdupidichathuthaanE!

[madhu]

PP akka..

ippO open secret aayiduchu

ippo secret innum kuzhappA aayiduchu..
surya-> maithree -> rocky :P

[maithree]

Hmm...I thought everyone knew..

Surya got banned due to something in the Tamil Films section, so I'm here as Maithree thanks to my sis Wibho!

So rendu perum Kathaiya Padikalaiya?!

[crazy]

surya...........
enakku story marandhu pocchu ................its really tough reading the whole story again pls post ur next episode as soon as u can............

good going

[Querida]

Hey Surya....finished a paper and thought i'd treat myself with your story...treat it was...but buddy you better make sure to post the whole story..you're really killing with the suspense...keep it up! awaiting the next episode!!!!