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Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Crime/Gangster · #2191179
Do They Have a Creed? (WDC Soundtrackers Contest)
The man was as close to being a vagabond as about anyone. He didn't really have a home, even though he had several places where he could go to ground. In his line of work, it was imperative. His patience was legendary, and it often angered those who hired him. But they were all told up front, it would take as long as it needs to take. Without the best research money could buy, the training he'd been given, and proper timing, his taken profession would end quickly.

Currently, he'd stationed himself at a bar where he could easily watch the craps tables. Las Vegas was one of the worst places to do his job, because everywhere you went in a casino, there was a camera to watch every move. Almost a week ago, he had scouted the location, and he'd looked different than today. His target, a rich man with a serious gambling problem, had finally taken to the tables where he wanted him. A small listening device, slipped in with fresh towels by an unsuspecting maid, had alerted him to those plans. On this day, there was a professionally made prosthetic on his face that looked like scarring from a horrible burn. It served two functions. One, it would limit the cameras ability to identify him, and two, people would quickly look away when they saw him.

The waitress had just taken orders from the craps table, and gave the slip to the bartender, who proceeded to begin mixing drinks. The preparation paid off, as that work was being done right in front of his seat, and by chance, there was only one rocks glass. Still, there had to be complete certainty, because if he was wrong, there would not likely be another chance. Once the expensive brand of liquor had been poured, he was sure. Then, when the barkeeper turned for another bottle, the assassin stretched, squeezed a few drops of liquid into the glass, and stood. The job was complete except for the man dying, but there was good reason not to stick around for that. Just then the target must have had a good run, because he heard him yell with satisfaction.

"Roll 'em easy, rich man," He thought to himself. "You only have a couple more left. Nothing personal."

A taxi was at the stand outside the casino, and he was on his way to McCarren in minutes. The first plane out to Houston was to Hobby, but the flight had no first class section, so he took one leaving twenty minutes later. Anyone who saw him going into the single "family" bathroom would have understood, and no one was watching when he exited. While inside, he'd removed and flushed the prosthetic and rinsed the dye out of his hair. He would be Carlton Sampson until he landed in Houston. It was home territory where no jobs were done, and that extended to all of Texas, too. It was his ground, and wasn't to be soiled.

He ditched his old identification and replaced it with what he used at home once he landed. With no bags, but a long taxi line long, he was glad to see a redhead waving to him. Well, she wasn't technically redheaded, or any other color for sure. But someone wasn't playing fair if she was there for him when he was landed. That question could wait. There was a lack of empathy inside him, which made doing the jobs possible. It wasn't for country or anything else, he killed for money. That always made him wonder about love, and if it was something that could be felt with what he would describe as his personality flaws. But she was different, one of the best he'd ever seen at their craft, and once his partner. He got in the car with a sigh. Anita, the name she used in Houston, just smiled, winked, and pulled into the snarl of airport traffic.

"You love being wined and dined, don't lie."
"You know I've had dinner with a king and queen, but only to make sure one died thirty-six hours later..."
"Still, you did it." She said.
He took another bite of pizza, savoring the mixed meaty and vegetable flavor of the supreme. After a pause to chew, "But! Sometimes this is better."

She did admit that staying in alone had some advantages. They were in a safe house she had in the city, and it was comfortable enough. Once they had finished eating and watching some television, they retired to the bedroom. She tempted him as she slowly undressed, and it was easy to take that kind of bait.

"I see you've hoisted your flag, sailor." She said with a drawl.
He guided her to the bed. "You make it pulse like the beat of a drum."
It was late when they were both satisfied, but neither was very tired. She had put her head on his chest, and her hair spilled about him. "Tired?"
"Not really, " He replied. "Just thinking. How did you know when I'd be back here?"
She blew hair out of her face. "I saw something about a suspicious death in Vegas. I guessed almost right, I circled the airport for an hour."
"What if I'd flown into Hobby?"
"You? On Southwest? " She laughed. "You'd rather fly with the baggage than coach."
He snorted. "I guess you know me pretty well. You've got me defenseless."
She propped herself up on an elbow. "Well then, I can ask anything. Does it ever bother you?"
"What?"
"You know what. That man in Vegas was a tech millionaire who might have invented great things." She looked at him. "Now he won't."
"Vegas sucks," He grunted and put his hand in her hair. "And I've tried to teach you from the start. A job is a job. You can't do this otherwise."
"Unless it's not a job."

He felt the blade of the dirk slide up under his rib cage and pierce his heart. Death was only moments away. She whispered in his ear that she wasn't sure if she could feel love, but if she could, it would be for her uncle that raised her. A tech giant who had just died under very mysterious circumstances.

(WC:1047)

Roll Um Easy

Oh I am just a vagabond
A drifter on the run
And eloquent profanity
It rolls right off my tongue
And I have dined in palaces
Drunk wine with Kings and Queens
But darlin', oh darlin'
You're the best thing I've ever seen
Won't you roll me easy
Oh slow and easy
Take my independence
With no apprehension, no tension
You walki' talkin' dream paradise
Sweet pair a' dice
Well I been across this country
From Denver to the ocean
And I never met girls who could sing so sweet
Like the angels that live in Houston
Singin' "Roll me easy, so slow and easy...
Play that Concertina, I'll be your temptress..."
And baby I'm defenseless
Singin' harmony
In unison
Sweet harmony
Gotta hoist your flag and I'll beat your drum


Songwrite: Lowell George


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