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The year is 1930 and Shameus returns to New York City during The Depression. Having been absent for twelve years, he returns with a letter that directs him to a mysterious man. The man offers him the job as a serial killer.

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Submitted:Mar 2, 2008    Reads: 142    Comments: 3    Likes: 1   


Chapter 1

Location: New York City, 1930
Date: November 29
Time: 1:28 AM

The cold winter chill rushed through the busy streets of New York city. Night had fallen and the lights of Times Square had lit up; the people walked through the streets, passing one another without thought of where they had been.
Shameus was amongst them all. In the middle of it, he looked up to the sky. Twelve years, had it been? Yes, twelve years since he had been in New York city. And it was in the worst of times. Ever since the stock market had crashed the previous year, it had been incredibly hard. He struggled to live out west, barely having enough money for food and shelter. But it was all over for him: he was about to make it big.
Why he had left, he could remember clearly. Ever since he had left school, he lived in anger. Everyone had turned on him. His family, friends, wife, and children. He had nowhere to turn. He left for twelve years, having a more successful life out west than he ever would have made in the city.
But he had received a letter, the previous month almost one month ago. He got the letter on Halloween, to be exact. A letter that had no signature. It was almost the common set up. But Shameus was given the money for the train ride. He had decided to come.
Shameus walked past the window of a shop. He could see his reflection clearly: A tall man with pure black hair that was in a messy design, dressed in a cheap black sweater. He wore his black shoes and gloves, making him look mysterious. It was almost a pity to him.
Shameus reached into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper he had ripped off from the letter. He was close to the street where he was supposed to go. Only a block or two and he would be there.
He walked the two blocks and approached a large building. A large sign hung from the door. On it, it read: "The Fortune Booth".
"A cheap fortune teller called me over," Shameus muttered to himself, "This is too much."
Shameus knocked on the door. From the other side, he could hear movement, yet nobody answered.
He knocked again. This time, the door opened ajar; it was locked by a chain. Through the crack, Shameus saw a white haired man, dressed in a black suit, approach the door.
"Hello, sir," he said, looking oddly at Shameus, "What brings you here at this hour?"
Shameus held up the bit of the letter. "I was told to come here by this letter."
The man lifted his eye brow. "Ah, yes, so you are Shameus. Please! Do come it!" The man closed the door. The sound of rattling chains came from behind the door and the door opened up. The man held out his hand, beckoning Shameus to come in.
Shameus took a step inside and the man closed the door behind him. The room was dark and Shameus could only see the man in the room with him.
"So, Shameus, it has been a while since you have been in New York. Please tell me why you were out west for so long."
Shameus felt a chill run down his spine. "What makes me so sure I can trust you?"
The man chuckled. "What am I going to do to you? I'll make a deal with you: Tell me about yourself and I'll share my personal information with you as well. Do we have a deal?"
Shameus sighed. "I guess so," He looked at the man. Something felt strange about him. But, what was the worst thing he could do to him? "I left New York after all those I loved turned on me. I fled to the country out west and made a life out there."
The man chuckled. "Just as I predicted. You really are a special one, Shameus!"
Shameus glanced over to the man. "Alright, spill your story. I haven't got all night."
The man chuckled again. "You may call me Francois. I've started up a fortune telling business to cover what I really do."
"What might that be?"
Francois grinned. "I hire serial killers!"
Shameus felt his gut twist. He took a step back from Francois in fear. "What do you plan to do to me?"
Francois laughed. "Nothing! Did you not hear me? I hire serial killers! And you, Shameus, are the perfect one for the job."
Shameus took another step back. "Why me? What traits do I have that are necessary?"
Francois grinned again. "You said the ones you loved turned on you. And now you have nobody, correct?"
Shameus nodded.
"Doesn't that make you want to get revenge?"
Shameus didn't move. "You're telling me I can get my revenge?"
"Is that relief in your voice? You sound relieved to hear that!"
Shameus still didn't move. What had he just said?
"You do want to get revenge, I know you do Shameus. I have ways of finding out your personal things, such as where you live out west and how much money you currently have. I know who you were married too and what she did to you. I know what every single one of your friends did as well. It truly is a tragic thing, is it not?
"If I were you, I would consider revenge above all! They took your life away! And you do know how hard it was to start over again!"
Shameus didn't say anything. He walked over towards the door and put his hand on it. Before he turned the knob, stopped himself; Revenge did sound good. It was almost like a lust he needed to have. Yes, it would work. It would do...
"If I become your hit man, you say I can get revenge on all those who betrayed me?"
Francois nodded. "Yes, Shameus; All of it would come to peace. Just a swift slice of the blade and it would be all over. The stress would be off your shoulders forever!"
That was one thing Shameus desired. Ever since it had happened, the stress wouldn't leave him. He looked at Francois in the eyes. "Francois," He said with anger, "I want to get revenge."


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