The Undead Hitman

January 14, 2009
By Jordan Ahlstrom, Logan, UT


It was close to 1 in the morning when the man walked in. Virsago was looking out his loft window.
Down at the ignorant mortals below. The man walked in around that moment. Virsago's attention
didn't divert from the outside. "Is there a reason you are trespassing on my property?"
Virsago asked, still looking out the window. "I seek the undead hitman." He said, "Are you the
one I'm looking for?" Virsago turned around. The man was quite the ugly one. Short, bald, eyes
too close to the nose, slight humpback, a bit heavyset, hideous. "Who's asking?" "My name is
Randall Scott. I need someone taken care of." "Let me guess," Virsago said, moving towards his
liquor cabinet, "someone who's blackmailing you? The mafia, in which you owe money to? That jerk
who scammed you into purchasing that franchise in Pensacola?" He took out a couple of bottles.
Randall gave him a strange look. "What?" he asked. "Sorry, I was just remembering a joke I
heard somewhere." "Oh," Randall said, chuckling a bit. "Care for a Bloody Mary?" "No
thanks. I don't drink." "Whatever, I'll make one for me, then." He started mixing up the
drinks. "Anyway, the man I want you to kill is a man named Carson Spencer." He sat down.
"He's the CEO of that weapons plant downtown." "Ah, yes. I know that one. I've bought a
few myself. Top notch, I should say." He poured the contents into a glass. "Oh, well, thank
yo-" "But," He interrupted, "Why would I want to kill the man who makes such fine
weapons?" He asked slyly, getting up in his face. "Spencer is planning something diabolical! I
never knew this until just a couple hours ago." Fear was beginning to show. Virsago could tell. He
backed off. "I merely thought we were making assault rifles and that sort of thing, cramming
gunpowder into shells, nothing could've prepared me for what I saw!" Virsago was beginning to
get bored. He himself took a seat. "Are you gonna cut to the chase soon or am I gonna have to kill
you?" He asked, taking a long sip of his drink. "I'll tell you! I'll tell you!" Randall
shouted, frightened. "Geez, calm down." "Sorry, the idea of being killed completely terrifies
me." "Clearly. You sure you don't need that drink?" "No, I'll be fine." Well, go on,
then." Virsago gestured. "Okay," He took a deep breath, " I believe he's smuggling nuclear
weapons to the Middle East." Virsago gave him a blank stare. "And?" "And? What do you mean
and?? My boss is smuggling nuclear weapons to the terrorists!!! I can't get into more detail than
that!!" "Well," Virsago finished his drink, "do you have any proof?" "He's trying to
kill me! I discovered his plans! He knows it was me who discovered them! He was either insane or
kind enough to call me so he could alert me that hitmen that he hired are on their way right now to
kill me! They are tracking me! They might be outside the door right now!" Virsago gave him an odd
look. "That sounds very unlikely that he would call you to tell you about that." "Well, he's
insane. Plain and simple." Virsago sighed. "Very well. I'll take care of him. I'll just be
needing my payment." "Right. How much?" "$2,500" Virsago said. Randall stared at him.
"Really?!? $2,500?? Are you crazy?? "Hey, I'm the best of the best!" Virsago stood up, "I
always get the job done! The best hitman in the world doesn't come cheaply!" "That is true.
Ah, damn. Do you take checks?" "No," He cooled down, "banks are never open when I'm up."
He sat back down. "I suppose that's true," Randall sighed, "Well, I don't know what to
tell you. I don't have any cash on me, I have no idea where I would get it this late."
"Perhaps we can work out another agreement." Virsago said, staring at Randall's neck. Randall
noticed. "Oh, no," Randall said, standing up, "I want you to keep me from dying, not kill me
yourself!" "Well, I wouldn't bite you, I'd just get the blood from your system using a
syringe. Biting you would make you a vampire as well, and we both know that neither one of us wants
that to happen." Virsago said. "That doesn't sound like a big deal. Quite a good one,
actually." Thought Randall. "Okay, how much will you be needing?" He said. "About three
quarts will do." "What?!" Randall screamed, "That'll kill me!" "No, it won't.
You'll still be conscious, but you'll be incredibly lightheaded. I have plenty of oranges in the
fridge if you want some of them." Randall gave him a confused look. "Why?" He asked. "Gotta
have something to snack on when there's no business." Virsago got up and stared out the window
again. Just then, there was a pounding at the door. Virsago looked toward it. "Open the door! We
know you're in there!" Said a voice. "Oh, god!" Randall whispered in a terrified tone.
"They're here! I told you they were tracking me!" Virsago sighed. "I'll take care of them.
Relax." Virsago moved toward his liquor cabinet. He bent down and opened one of the drawers. He
pulled out a katana. His favorite katana. The one with the flaming design on the handle, and the
steel's edge stained red, as if it had just massacred a village. "You might want to hide,
Randall." He told him, admiring his katana. Randall immediately ran and hid in a nearby closet.
"Break the door down!" Said a second voice outside the door. There was a loud pounding. Virsago
walked to the middle of his loft. There was a second pounding. "Damn, that's a stable door!"
Said the first voice. "Here, we'll both break it down," Said the second voice, "alright,
one...two...three!" There was an even louder pound. "One...two...three!" Another pound. The
door cracked a bit. "One...two...three!" A third pound, and an even louder cracking sound.
Virsago hid his blade within his black trench coat. "We almost got it. One...two...three!" The
door burst open. Two muscled men in red jackets came into the living room, both holding 9mm's.
"Evening, gentlemen." Virsago said, "Oh, don't worry about the door, I was planning on
replacing it anyway. What can I help you with?" "Were looking for Randall Scott." The first
one said, "Where is he?" "Oh, he was here a while ago, I sent him off somewhere. Why do you
need him?" "Where did you send him?" "I asked you first." Virsago said with an evil look
in his eyes, " you need him?" "Scott knows too much." Said the second one, "He
must be killed." "Dude!" Said the first one, smacking the second one's shoulder, "That was
a secret! Why'd you tell him that?' "I find that listening to reason gets the job done faster.
Quit your complaining." He sighed, "Whatever. So," He turned back to Virsago, "I'll ask
again, where did you send Randall Scott to?" "I can't reveal that information," Virsago
said, still with that evil look, "it's strictly business." "Is it, now?" The first one
asked. He shot Virsago in his shin. He screamed and fell to the floor, clutching his leg, he still
managed to hide the katana. The second one moved toward him. "You gonna tell us now, smart-ass?"
The first one said, the second pointing his pistol at Virsago. "You can both burn in hell!"
Virsago replied, his blade still out of sight. "Very well then," The first one said, "take him
out." The second one cocked his gun and pointed it at Virsago's head. "By the way," The
second one said, "my name's Conner." "Nice to meet you, Conner." Said Virsago in a demonic
tone. He unsheathed his blade. In a flash, Conner was sliced in two. Virsago got up, his shin wound
was just an act. The first man had a look of complete terror on his face. He fired at Virsago.
Firing shot after shot at him. Virsago repelled them with his blade. He was now within two feet of
the man. He pointed his gun straight at Virsago's forehead at point-blank range. He pulled the
trigger. The bullet simply bounced off of his head like rubber. He stared at him in both amazement
and terror. "" He whispered. Virsago beheaded him. Blood splattering all over
his face. "It's safe now." He said to Randall, "You can come out." Randall took three
steps out of the closet. He vomited at the sight of the dead bodies. "Good god!" Said Randall
after he finished throwing up, "You actually killed them!" "It's what I do, isn't it?"
Virsago licked the blood off of his blade and re-sheathed it. "Oh, god, thank you so much!" Said
Randall. "It's no problem." "Alright. What was it we were talking about?" Asked Randall.
"Your payment." Virsago turned toward Randall. "Right...Well, then, you can go ahead and
extract the blood now." Offered Randall "Actually, keep your blood. I've got plenty."
Virsago said, eying the bodies of Conner and his unknown companion. "Oh, okay then, I'll just
get out of your hair." Randall said as he started to leave the loft. "Wait!" Virsago yelled
toward Randall. Randall spun around. "You still need to pay me." "What?" Randall said in
disbelief. "The thrill of killing someone leaves me in quite a generous mood, so you'll only
have to pay me $750. Get it to me by tomorrow night. Does that sound fair?" Virsago asked.
"Wait," Randall said, "If you were going to do this for me free of charge in exchange for my
blood, why do you charge me now that you have four times what you wanted?" "These guys aren't
my clients!" Said Virsago, pointing his katana at the corpses, "You are!" now pointing it
towards Randall, "$750! Sound fair?" "No, but I don't dare question you." "Okay, then.
You just tell me where your boss is going now." "He's on his way to the Middle East. He's
making that delivery I discovered." "Good," Virsago said, gesturing to where the door used to
be, "you'll be leaving now." "Alright then," He said as he started leaving, "God
bless." All of a sudden, Virsago was behind him with his unsheathed blade at his throat. "Dude,
don't ever say that to me." He said, "I really hate it when people say that. Vampires aren't
godly in the slightest. People seem to forget that."Virsago let Randall go. Randall ran straight
out of the building. Virsago began his feast.


Carson Spencer got off his private jet. The nuclear weapons were stored where the baggage goes. He
wasn't entirely sure what those rooms were called. He then spotted a man holding a sign that had
his name on it. He walked up to him. "This is my customer?"He thought, "He's hideous."
Indeed he was (according to his standards, at least). The guy was scarred all over his face, dread
locks, three fingers on his left hand, and a chin spike beard. Not really much to look at. "Baheer
Sumketh?" He asked the man. "That's me." He said in Arabic, " Welcome, Mr. Spencer. Your
ride is just over here." "Good" Said Spencer, also in Arabic. They walked over to a private
limo. "Everything is in order, then?" Asked Baheer. "It is. They'll be carrying that last
shipment over to your weapons hideout. You'll be able to attack anytime you want." They got into
the limo. "Perfect." The limo started moving. "5 years, we've been planning this. And it's
finally happening. You're positive that no one knows about this?" "Of course," Said Spencer
lighting a cigarette, "one of my idiot employees stumbled upon it accidentally but, I took care of
him." "How?" Asked Baheer. "I just hired some hitmen. A couple of reliable ones. See, I
called the guy to tell him that there were hitmen coming after him." Baheer gave him a weird look.
"Wow. That wasn't too bright, now was it?" "No, I called him to make him afraid. I wanted to
freak him out." "Why?" Spencer took a long puff of his cigarette. "Fear," He exhaled,
"is what I do best." He gave Baheer an evil look. Baheer looked at the floor. Spencer clutched
his necklace. An upside-down cross. They remained quiet for the remainder of the ride. They arrived
at the weapons hideout 10 minutes later. They stepped out of the limo and started walking towards
the hideout. "I'm sure the shipment has shown up by now." Said Spencer, "If not, in a couple
minutes." A helicopter flew overhead. It landed on the landing pad. The pilots carried out large
metallic boxes. "Or in a few seconds. Either one works." Spencer said. They walked towards the
main door. "I'll just put in the code real quick." Said Baheer. At that instant, they heard a
tiny screech overhead. They looked up and saw a single bat flying past them. "I didn't know
there were bats out here."Said Spencer. "I've never seen any." Said Baheer, "Maybe it's
just migrating." "Don't they migrate in groups, though?" "I don't know. I know almost
nothing about bats. Maybe it just got lost." Baheer put in the code. The door flew open and they
went inside. The door closed behind them. The bat flew close to some of the large weapon crates. It
flew behind them. Two seconds later, Virsago stepped out. He reached into his trench coat pockets
and pulled out all the weapons he had tucked away and laid them on the ground, out of sight.(For
some reason, when he becomes bat form with his weapons on his person, they shrink so they can fit in
those little sleeves they have for carrying their babies.) He loaded his pistols, his uzis, secured
his grenade belt, made sure the plastic explosives were stable, and sharpened his katana. This
wasn't his favorite one. This was his 8th favorite. He wouldn't ever risk bringing his first
favorite with him on a job. It was to him like a Boba Fett figure is to a nerd. "Alright," He
said to himself, "it's go-time!" He ducked behind another weapon crate. He peered around the
corner of it. There was a guard there. Virsago would remain stealthy. Pick them off one by one. He
would come out at the appropriate time. He snuck up on the lone guard. He slowly unsheathed his
blade. "Hey, Jabel!" Shouted another guard, "Come over here for a sec." "Alright, I'm
comi-" Virsago pulled him into the shadows. Those would be the last words Jabel would ever say.
Unless you count the odd gurgling sound that came out when Virsago impaled him. "Jabel?" Shouted
the guard. "Hey, where'd Jabel go?" "Isn't he securing those crates over there?" Said a
second guard. "He was a second ago." The first guard walked over to the crates, into the
shadows. There was a dull squish sound. "Do you see him over there?" Shouted the second guard.
There was no answer. "Hello?"Still no answer. He walked over to the crates. "Dude, are you
there?" He spotted the bodies of his fellow guards. "Oh, Allah." He reached for his
walkie-talkie. "Sir," He said into it, "There's an intruder here somewhere. He's killed
two other guards. He's nowhere to be found, though." "Alright," Said Baheer from the other
side of the line, "sound the alarm. Don't let him escape and be sure to kill him." "Well, I
would think that if we're not supposed to let him escape that we need to GAAAHH!!!" "What
happened?"Baheer shouted, "Are you okay?" There was complete silence on the other side, and
then there was gunfire. Gunfire and screaming. "My god." Said Carson, "What's going on out
there?" "I don't know, but it can't be good. We need to get to the weapons bay, quickly!"
They started running. Virsago finished off the last of the guards. He chucked a couple of grenades
in the last squad's direction. Blowing them to smithereens. Simple. He walked toward the door. He
spotted the keypad. "Oh, I need a 7 digit code now, do I?" He said to himself and probably the
door, "Here's your 7 digit code!" With one powerful punch, the door flew off of its hinges.
"Access granted, I'd presume?" He walked into the building. Baheer and Carson heard the door
crash open. "Impossible!" Baheer shouted, "there's no way anyone could blow open that
door!" "That can't be good." Said Carson. "You run! You need to launch those weapons! Run!
Quickly! I'll buy you some time!" "What? Why me?" "Because, I have a feeling this is your
fault! You had to call that guy to scare the crap out of him! He probably went and informed the
Marines or something! You should've just hired the hitmen and let them kill him! You're the
initial target, we're just caught in the crossfire! Now run, dammit!" Carson turned and ran
towards the weapons bay. Baheer ran to a closet down the hall and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun.
"Alright, infidel, come and get me." He said as he cocked his gun. "I already have." Said
Virsago. Baheer whirled around behind him, there was no one to be seen. "Where are you?!" "Oh,
you'll figure it out soon" Baheer turned around, there was still no one there. He was incredibly
terrified now. "Tell me where you are!!!" "I'm not even hiding. I'm completely out in the
open. You're not looking in the most obvious place." Baheer nearly died of terror at that
moment. He knew where the voice was coming from. He slowly looked up at the ceiling. There was a man
standing on it. He wasn't supported by anything. He was just standing there. "Hi."Virsago said
to him. He reached down and twisted Baheer's neck. "Just one left." He said as he walked down
the hallway ceiling. Carson Spencer finally got to the weapons bay. He quickly ran over to the
launch terminal. The screen flashed on. It asked for an access code. "Access code?" Said Carson
out loud, "I need an access code?! Dammit! He didn't give me one! That idiot!!" He heard a
loud pound, when he looked up, he saw the door fly across the room. He turned around. There was a
man there. "Carson Spencer, I presume?" He said. "Who the hell are you?" Carson asked him.
"Oh, where are my manners? I'm known as Virsago, the undead hitman." He started walking
towards Carson. Carson grabbed his necklace and held it in front of him. "You stay the hell away
from me!" He shouted, "I'm serious!" Virsago was now right in front of him, "Well, you
seem rather terrified. Tell me, Mr. Spencer, do you fear me?" He said. Carson continued holding up
his crucifix, "Well, you obviously do. You see, vampires are not dieties of seduction, as the
media portrays them. We're heartless killing machines, and we have been up until this new
generation, when they badly screwed up our reputation." "I don't give the slightest crap about
anything you're saying!" Shouted Carson, "You stay away or, I swear to god, I will shove this
thing down your throat! Virsago snatched the crucifix out of Carson's hand. "Okay, first of all,
these things only work if you have faith. Second of all, even if you did, it wouldn't do you any
good. I've spent the last 800 years building up an immunity to these things."He through the
cross to the floor. " But, back to business. I have a message from Randall Scott." "What?"
Asked Carson in total fear. Virsago picked him up off the ground by his neck with one hand. "Stop
calling me!" Virsago sank his teeth into Carson's neck. Carson screamed in extreme pain. 45
seconds later, Carson Spencer was dead. Virsago threw his body across the room. He planted his
plastic explosives all around the area. He set them to detonate in 2 minutes. Plenty of time for him
to get away. He started the timer. He ran outside and disappeared into the shade. A bat appeared out
the other side. It flew far away from the area. The explosives detonated, causing a chain reaction
detonating the nuclear weapons. Nothing within a 40 mile radius could've survived. The next night,
Virsago sat alone in his loft. Enjoying his celebratory mixed drinks for a job well done, tucking
away his payment from Randall Scott in a secure box behind his walls, watching the evening news
covering the chaos that he caused. He merely laughed as he walked over to his window to further
observe the utter stupidity of the mortals.

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