Death of a Rationalist

 This post is another in the long overdue stack, but I am trying people just be patient. 

The job I came to do was simple they said. Find the Rationalist, explain his crimes, and kill him. Simple and easy instructions to follow, and I try to follow the simple, easy instructions. Makes the hard bits easier to 'fudge' if I need to. Either way it was supposed to be an easy job. Like most things that seem too easy to be true, it was a shit show. But, when your job is to whack people, easy is a relative term. People seem, for the most part, to be opposed to just getting whacked without creating a fuss. Oddly the Rationalist didn't create a fuss, and that is what made it so hard to whack him. 

The "people" that wanted him whacked were, as far as I could tell, a dodgy lot. I only ever talked to one of them, and he was a flighty as a chicken at a fox convention. He keep mentioning that "we" need the Rationalist killed, but I got the sense that "we" was just him, and he wanted to try to spread out his guilt like peanut butter (except onto imaginary people). Maybe that helped him, maybe it didn't I was beyond giving too much of a fuck at the time.  He referred to the group that wanted the job done as the "CC". I didn't have then nor do I have now any idea what that meant, again I was paid to do a job. And once I am paid I always see the job through. They gave me a goodly amount of the coin of the realm to whack a guy, so I would whack a guy. Sometimes the job is just that, no muss, no fuss, and no fancy stuff. I wasn't required to send a message to anyone, cut off part of his body to send to grieving relatives,  I was told there would be no grieving relatives (not that I cared), and no public display of the body as a warning to others would be necessary.

He wasn't hard to find, he blunders about the city he lives in like a drunk elephant and his habits are as regular as an old man eating prunes. He can generally be found in one of about seven places, and one of those is his house, which he occupies all by his lonesome. Easy enough, and the lock really posed no problem, mainly because the key he "lost" one night while he was too drunk to see, I possessed. Again he is as easy to track as a herd of buffalo, and it wasn't too hard to nick the key off his drunk ass. So far this job was as simple as falling off a log. Which if you've ever fallen off a log you will know how easy that can be, its the landing that is the hard bit.  

On a not so fine night in ________, I let myself into his shit hole of an apartment and waited for him to stagger home from his local. I figured I had a couple of hours to wait as he is the "drink till you're asked to leave type." I didn't bother to look around overmuch, no need to put too human of a face on the fellow you are here to make non-human, it confuses the mind, and leads to mistakes being made. I don't like mistakes, mine or other people's. My patience was rewarded a little while later when I heard the key turn in the lock, and the Rationalist make his (drunken) way into his apartment. With an ironic "honey I'm home!" he announced his presence to what he thought was an empty house. My sardonic reply of "Oh thank God! I've been worried sick!" was met with a great deal of swearing, and confusion. He made his way into the living room very slowly, saw me sitting on his favourite seat, and asked "who the fuck are you, and how the fuck did you get in here!" There was some bravado in his tone, but I could tell there was just a tinge of fear behind his eyes. After all, the large gun I had pointed in his direction did look pretty terrifying. I like to put most of my cards on the table from the beginning, it avoids confusion as to my purpose. 

He noticed the gun, and if you ever have seen some go from drunk to sober in a flash it can be quite an educational experience. He managed it quicker than most, perhaps he had a lot of practice. He looked down at the gun, and sighed out a question "what took you so long?" I arched an eyebrow at this, he seemed remarkably resigned to his fate, most people in his position at least try to bargain or beg. He seemed almost more ready than I was to get it over with.  "I assume the CC sent you?" he asked. I nodded my assent "yes they seem to think you've over stepped your bounds, and have backslid as well. They apparently take backsliding very, very seriously." He nodded agreement "yes, yes they do. How much did they give you for killing me?" I named a figure twice the actual price, it helps people who are about to get whacked feel more important. If someone would pay THAT much to have you killed, well you must be important indeed. He titled his head to the right as if thinking about it, and replied "seems a bit high, I would have done it for half that price if I were you." I nodded "well maybe you're more important than you think, dead that is, few of us are that important alive. Or maybe they just had money to spend to balance the budget, the end of the year is almost here after all. I don't really care much, they paid it, and told me to whack you, so here I am."

He sat down rather heavily, and sighed, "I guess that's a simple enough answer. You seem to prefer those." I nodded "I don't get paid by the word, I get paid by the job." He smiled a bit as if accepting that his time was being measured in minutes not years. "May I show you something? It requires me going into the other room but I don't own one of those" he pointed at my gun still trained on him, "and I want you to have what I am about to show you, I feel it will help. If not you at least someone." I nodded my assent, "sure, but hurry up, I don't have all night, there are other jobs to do, it's my busy season you know." He laughed, and replied "I won't be long, and no I had no idea that there was a 'busy' season for murdering people." He came back with a stack of papers in his hand that would do any bureaucrat proud. "Here, I know it's lot but at least it explains of all this," he waved his arm around vaguely as if "this" was in the room with us. I pointed the gun down to the ottoman "set it down there and back away." He did as he was told laughing "I'm not a hero, I am not going to try anything funny. In fact, in an odd way you're probably doing me a favour by murdering me. It might make the people who should feel bad, at least for maybe a day or so." 

"What is all of this?" I asked as I picked up the hefty stack of papers, "you're last will and testament?" He chuckled "no, I don't have anything to leave anyone except books that none of them would ever read. That are his and my records." I arched an eyebrow "his?" He nodded "they didn't tell you did they? Just like the CC never tell anyone the whole truth when a half lie will do." Letting out a long sigh, he continued "His, in this case, is a fellow we called the Romantic (notice the large R), and he was my successor in interest, just like I am yours." I frowned, "what the fuck are you on about? I am here to whack you, maybe have a snack after, and go home to sleep the sleep of the just. I am no crown prince, I am succeeding no one in anything." He sighed again "I know that is what you think, because I thought the same thing, then I started reading his records, for a Romantic, he kept pretty damn good records. I thought I would continue the 'tradition' and keep my own. I guess it becomes a thing after a while. It's why the CC sent you here, even though they don't really understand it. Of course, you'll have to start at the beginning of his and read through mine. Which is good news, it means the CC might let you have longer." I looked up at him "longer than what?" He snorted "longer than me you damn fool. Where do you think you are? What do you think this is all about, and who do you think you are that you can just whack me and walk away? No my friend, you are trapped, as trapped as trapped can be, and the CC knew it when they sent you here. So, do you damn job, read those records, and have a merry fucking xmas."

I sat down the large stack of papers, and stood up. "You're an even bigger fool than they told me you were if you think I am falling into your shoes. You know there is a place in the brain called ...." He interrupted me "... the Circle of Willis, yes I know all about it. Don't you find that odd?" I shook my head determined to finish this job, and get this lunatic to Charon for his 'trip across the river' as the saying goes. I walked behind him, told him to look down, which he did, and put one simple bullet in his brain, just like they trained me to do. He just slumped forward without a sound, and my job was done. I looked down at him with something approaching pity, "you were a damn fool for too long, I should have been sent to do this job months ago. But, better late than never." I looked around his shit hole room, nothing of any real value. My gaze lingered on the stack of paper. "I take this just for a laugh." I said to his rapidly cooling corpse. That was to be a mistake.