Just a Little Murder

Just a Little Murder 14

Part 14

Warning: some non-explicit killing. 

Whistling a tune softly, mentally pleased with himself as the two in the bed just stared at him with incredulous looks, he patted his gun with a small smile. "I have a bit of clean up I'm afraid. Luckily this place is really just a giant matchbox with so much fucking varnish and not a lick of fire retardant. So it'll go up fast and hot," he said.

His target snarled and started to stand up from the bed, stopping when the gun was aimed at him.

"Now, now, there isn't any reason to get up. We don't want this to be any harder than this is going to be," he said, eyes trailing over the man's body as he dropped his bag onto the floor. "Man, you are itty bitty aren't you?" he snorted. He shook his head with a smirk. "Look. You fucked up. You might as well just take your punishment like the man that you are, no matter how small you actually are, and let me do my job."

"And let me guess, this punishment is death?" the man snarled, his hazel eyes darkening. Aran had to admit that the guy could be hot if not for the fact that he knew that he liked drugs and steroids a bit too much.

"Well, you just had to go after the wrong people, dearest," Aran said. He shrugged and looked bored. "Now, let's get this done shall we? Ah, ah, I don't think so." Catching sight of his personal target trying to get out of the bed, he put a bullet into the back of his head before he swung the gun around and with a secondary puff of muffled air, he put a bullet into his target's head. "Man, why do they feel this need to try to escape?" he asked.

Putting his gun into a thigh holster, he reached into the thigh pouch on his other thigh and pulled out a roll, laying it out onto the table. Unrolling it, he knelt down and pulled out two pairs of gloves from his bag, pulling them on and standing up. From the roll, he removed the strong, long tweezers and a surgical knife. Turning back to the now dead bodies, it didn't take him very long to retrieve the bullets, dropping them into a baggy along with his gloves, rolling it all back up together.

The case was then stuck back into the thigh pouch and he got a new set of gloves, pulling them on before he reached outside of the bedroom door to grab the metal bat that he had stolen from his target's boyfriend. He had absolutely no guilt about framing the jackoff for the murder since the guy was his boyfriend's second hand. It wouldn't take him very long to set him up for a long life as some jail bitch.

With the gruesome job of bashing the bodies up good enough to seem like a crime of passion, he dropped the bat next to the bodies. Walking to the door again, he ungloved once more, sticking the gloves into another bag and pulling on a pair of simple leather gloves, picking up the gas canister and his bag. Slinging his bag onto his back, he poured the gas that he had gotten from the three cars in the garage and started to pour as he went downstairs.

Pulling out the zippo, he lit it and dropped it onto the line of gas, letting it catch before he got into the car and drove it back to the private house that the lover was drugged in. It hadn't taken a lot to get the cocktail into the guy's dessert after all.

His job was done and all he had to do was wrap things up.