Cleaner II

I had written Cleaner II because a couple of people loved Cleaner (the only “couple of people” that read the first one). Now, he’s gonna be a permanent continued story.

 

Meet my new best friend. His name is Cleaner. He does jobs for a handler that doesn’t exist with some help from his good friend Benni who can operate the computerized world like it’s nobody’s business. And she makes the best coffee. Benni calls him Cleaner because his targets are “taken to the Cleaner”.

***WARNING: Cleaner’s tale is very graphic. It is not for those who are easily offended or for those who are easily churned by gruesome violence.

I’ve decided to give each one of his stories a new tag-line, “Somebody’s gotta die” as you will see in this short story. Cleaner actually started out for fun. I found a writer’s website that was announcing winners for a writing contest they just had and I figured, “what the hell. I’ll do it myself.” The rules were simple. There were 3 columns of 6 numbered subjects. I was to take a die and roll it 3 times. Each time I was to use the subject from that column. I rolled an assassin, a journal, and a prison. Then I had to come up with a short story including all of those subjects in just 1,000 words or less. Cleaner came to me quickly. I told his story. If you don’t know it then go back to January 2015 on the left side-bar. I was proud of myself for how short of time it took to create him. I really hope you like him. I’m hoping for a “Cleaner” band wagon here.

**Please. If you are visiting my stories or if you like what you read fill out the “Comments” section below. If you got here through Facebook, do not put your comments on Facebook. You will be helping me out. A lot. Thank you.

And now, please enjoy Cleaner II.

 

Cleaner II

Benni received the call. I have a job to do. Somebody’s made my handler’s list. It happens to be some dick with a big smile, too much money, and loves to infest children with his drugs. His file says he’s been tried way too many times for a judge to say he’s innocent. His cases were either thrown out before they started, or thrown out during trial due to lack of evidence, false statements, or the sudden lack of a witness. Once there was a sudden lack of a prosecutor. The man smiled in front of the cameras each time and praised the system for his freedom and innocence. History showed that the man was a druglord, gunlord, murderer, crime boss, and child rapist. After reading all of that, this fucker’s gotta go. And I don’t mean by bus either. I mean he has to go in the worst possible (and oh so ugly) way. I went straight to work. He’ll be dead and gone by the end of the week (and I started on Thursday). Benni calls it “Taken to the Cleaner” because I am the Cleaner.

My handler is unknown. Not even Benni knows their identity. Ever since I was brought home from a country that I didn’t go to for a mission that never existed for an agency that never existed for a government that doesn’t recognize my type of work, I never asked who I don’t work for. I hired Benni to take care of paper shredding and no money that never exchanges between non-existing bank accounts. And she’s the world’s best computer hacker that never existed. Plus, she makes the best coffee that does exist. Neither one of us are doing this for the money. We both came in with more money than Donald Trump, and we’ll have more money than ourselves when we call it quits. We’re doing this because pricks like this guy should not be inhabiting any terrestrial real estate.

I chose my cover and studied my target. Today (Saturday), nobody will be speaking his name. Even those that find what’s left of the body will only be calling him, “Holy Shit”. He dies today, and on Monday, his circle of friends, paid pals, anyone that owes him money, and anyone he owes money will be cleaned up by law enforcement because he has a journal. And he kept detailed notes. Such detail too. I don’t know why they all keep a damn journal of their lives. I guess it is so they have something to help them get off in their old and lonely elderly lives. Well, this guy won’t be jerkin’ his elderly meat later because he’s not making it past age “now”.

I picked up his journal this morning and tucked it away for safe keeping. He’s going on a field trip to his favorite place. The zoo. That’s where he gets a certain doctor to make and test his drugs. That’s where he’ll be feeding the animals. One piece of himself at a time. I arrived just before dawn. I made my way in, thanks to Benni, and slipped into something to blend me in. I managed to become one of the new park crewmembers. The poor guy I was posing as came down with a mean case of the shits courtesy of all of the laxatives he had consumed in his favorite chocolate chip ice cream last night. I beat everyone to the maintenance shed, donned my jumpsuit, grabbed a maintenance cart and headed straight for the medical building to clean the place up.

After cleaning the shithole they called a bathroom, the target’s doctor buddy arrived for duty. He was singing to no one, badly. I thought I would have to be quiet to sneak up on him. Imagine my excitement when I realized he was in a deep singing trance to some very loud, and very annoying, music in his headphones. He made killing him all too easy. He had to go. He made the drugs and tested them on the poor animals. The gorilla in the cage across the room gave me a very happy thumbs up when he watched the man die. I returned the thumbs up with a huge smile. We became the best of friends at that moment. I went to work. I prepared the room for the prick’s arrival. I placed his journal on the table, and began putting up the pictures of his victims he had stashed away with his journal all around the room. The girls he raped had a special place. They were all hung on a whiteboard then placed into the center of the room. Their families deserve the vengeance that I will be reigning down on his ass.

With the main power cut to the lab courtesy of Benni, I waited in the shadows. The target entered the room with a boisterous laugh as he bragged about his latest court case he beat to someone that accompanied him. Unfortunately for that someone, he was a walking dead dick too. The man put the brakes on his lips and the room suddenly echoed his last word. His very last word.

From my hiding spot I heard the familiar sound of a round being loaded into the chamber of a Glock. I saw the other guy’s silhouette block out the last bit of light in front of me. He went down quietly with a knife going through his neck. My target kept his eyes on the lookout not knowing his big bodied buddy just went down. I watched him click his phone’s flashlight on and heard a gasp when he spotted the many girls’ pictures and the words “Somebody’s gotta die!” across them. He backed up trying to let out a scream as looked around and saw all of the pictures staring at him. He yelped when his light flowed over and stopped at his journal. All I saw were the whites of his eyes and his hands covering his mouth. He turned to run, but a snarling smile from a big ass gorilla was in his face. Did I mention that I let my new found friend loose? The gorilla gave the target a mean left chop onto the top of his head and he went straight down.

I came around to make sure he was still alive so that I can have my way with him. As I did, the proud gorilla barked, pounded his chest in triumph, put me into a massive hairy hug, then went back into his cage and locked it himself. I love this gorilla. When the fucker finally came to he found himself strapped to a chair, gagged, and his eyelids missing. I spun him around the room so he can see all of the pretty pictures he had taken of all of his victims. I flopped the journal over his shoulder and onto his lap. He saw it through his painful, watery eyes and began to cry. And damn if tears didn’t start flooding the room. He tried to speak his sorrows, but he was gagged and I believe the time for regrets had passed after his first rape victim.

I turned on a flashlight and shined it right into his non-lidded eyes. It must have been painful because he tried to turn away as he screamed out. I ripped away the duct tape that was holding his head up to the chair as slowly as I could. I guess I accidentally on purpose got it in his hair because, damn, that shit made him scream like a little girl. I tossed the hair-covered tape onto his lap and he looked down and realized he was also very naked. I passed a knife in front of his watery face then pointed it downward. He screamed. He knew exactly where that blade was going next. The blade was sharp. The blade was long. The only thing long on him was his cries as his little rape-toy was removed. Damn was it small. He screamed and I jammed a needle into an arm. The numbing drug kicked in. He stopped screaming but not crying. I waited. More was soon to come. I removed his toy’s two best buddies, popped open the gag, and shut him up with them. I put the gag back on so he could suck on them a little longer.

I found a special bottle marked “Female Gorilla Urine” and swung it in front of his face. He suddenly looked to my friend in the cage and started screaming and shaking his head. I popped the top from the bottle and the gorilla went ape-shit crazy. I wheeled him in front of the cage, turned him around, and flipped him as hard as I could so his face would break against the floor and his naked ass was up. I poured that shit all over him. I opened the cage and my friend had a wonderful time.

The drug soon wore off while the gorilla was getting one more round in, and he screamed and screamed. The man’s asshole was ruined. Benni, better be glad you couldn’t see it. I realized super-happy-fun-time was coming to a close when his head started bobbing and his face went pale from all of the blood loss. (Too bad. I had another bottle of “gorilla call” to go around.) Those girls got their vengeance. Now, he must die. I picked him and the chair up and tossed him face-down into my large trash can on my cleaning cart. I whistled a cheery tune as I rolled him outside and headed for the back area of the fields where the tigers played. It was better this way. We were hidden from the crowd of zoo-goers. Too many kids. I couldn’t allow them to watch what happened next.

As I was entering the maintenance building, all of the workers were gathered around the security office screaming and covering their eyes. Benni turned the cameras in that area back on. Someone asked who the guy being ripped to shreds from a chair was and suddenly a tiger was being seen grabbing him by the neck and ripping his head off. Another man answered him, “Holy Shit!”. I smiled. My job was done. I left. Nobody even knew I was there.

Monday, Benni didn’t distribute any money between us. Our handler didn’t skim our bonus fee. Benni and I sat back and drank some fabulous coffee as we watched the news reporter tell everyone about the gruesome scene that went down in the tiger area of the local zoo. They also showed the doctor’s lab. The camera panned through the entire scene. They showed an opened journal and began calling out some names of people that could be seen on camera with utter disbelief. In the background a gorilla was shown sleeping in his cage wearing the biggest satisfaction smile I had ever seen.

-LS Quail 01/02/2016

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