Merovero Prequel: Carradine Stories: 1 & 2

The night is cold as ice, the room is dark as a church on monday. He hears my foot steps, the passing car makes a whisper of my silencer as it drives by. The only thing on my mind is the job I was hired to do, and now it had been done.  Some rich high class guy paid me for this job, and he paid well. It was an offer I couldn't pass up.

Back at the hotel I start thinking; Who was this guy? What did he do?

I put it at the back of my mind and concentrate on other things. Then I hear a knock... it's the police.

I dont have time to think about why they are here. I jump out the back window and I get stopped by this blood red cadillac. Three men sit inside "get in" they say...

I get in.

The guy to my right has a big tatoo accross his face. He tells me his name is Face and I think to my self about how ironic that is. I ask "Where are you taking me?" -as if I cared- "he wants to see you" he says.

Carradine: Who?

Face: The Merovingian, he hired you.

I sink back into this head of mine and ponder at "why would a man like that hire a low life like me". It just didnt make sense.

We pull over and we head inside a large hotel. Ive never been on this side of town before. We head into an elevator and one of the men presses a button on the panal, The 5th floor. The doors open at the -bing- of the elevator. The four of us walk into the room, and a man starts talking to me immediately.

He begins telling me about a group he has formed titled "Merovero" He tells me all about what they do "I was more intersted in what this man could pay me"  He tells me "If you accept; all of your problems will no longer be"

...

I accept.

(Molto bene.)

They call me Carradine, some code name that just poped up the first day on the job.  He goes to tell me why he had me kill the man earlier. -I didn't really care at this point- He says how he was a witness to a deal they had going. 

I go from there

The job of The Merovero was to get rid of witnesses of crimes committed by higher Merovingian associate's and odd jobs in between.  People just at the wrong place at the wrong time, but I didn't care, It was making me rich, and fast.

I headed to a different hotel, and got a room. The room is hot, it smells like lies, drugs, and women ...but I sit down and relax. 

It's morning, I had fallen asleep in the chair with the gun in my hand. This wasn't good. I was becoming paranoid. I stand up up and head to the window. I bend the shades slowly like I was expecting someone to be there, but there was no one. I step outside and take in the morning air. Then I hear the phone ring. I head inside and before picking it up, I wonder how they know exactly where I am every time. I put the phone to my ear but restrain from making a sound because they know it's me anyway. I hear the words "We have another eye for you to shut" then the line goes dead. This goes on for the next three months and each corner is just as predictable as the next.

My recent witness. A poor man, been scratching the bottom of the barrel for decades. He could be something more, but decides to live like garbage, the same rotton beggers that plague the streets. He deserves whats coming. As I make my way down the ally, I lay my eyes apon the trash and muck of pathetic lives of the poor and homeless. Then I see him.

He stands about five foot seven, about a hundred and thirty pounds. hes got fading dark hair, a man well into his fourties.

Carradine: Daniel Cortez?

Danial Cortez: Yes?

The sound of the gun, the rickashay of the bullet on the cold brick wall, is all silenced by the scatter of birds.

The Merovero, a Merovingian gun hand.