Chapter 2.1
From PenguinWiki
While waiting for Troy and the Tango poisoner to return from their meeting with the devil, Des had cooked a hearty feed of sausages, bacon, eggs and baked beans on the smokey campfire. After finishing his own portion, he had spent the next half hour licking his lips and walking around in circles, before finally pouncing on the rest and devouring it like an over-worked pig-dog.
Now, as he lay on his canvas swag rubbing his swollen belly and burping every few seconds, he began to feel slightly guilty. He knew he had some issues. He knew he drank too much, and smoked too much, he didn't excercise and he procrastinated (That one didn't really worry him though, he figured he could always deal with that one later), and he deffinatly ate too much.
"Yeah" he thought as he rolled over onto his side "I've got an eating problem. Aint no food left and I'm still hungry! Thats my eating problem!" He thought that was pretty funny and laughed to himself as he lit the cigarette that poked out from between his lips.
"Fuckin hell, where are these boy's" he said softly as he exhaled and began to blow smoke rings up into the air. He tried to blow a small fast one through a big slow one but never could. It pissed him off too because Troy made it look so easy.
Lying on his swag and watching the leaves blow back and forth above him, Des puffed on his smoke and listened to the forest's birds before closing his eyes. He was soon asleep.
He stands in the dark back yard, staring into the house. The shotgun in his right hand, loaded and heavy. The beer in his left, bitter and warm. Overflow runs from his mouth, down the side of his chin and onto his neck. He doesn’t bother to wipe it away.
The sea breeze begins to pick up and the trees in the yard cast menacing shadows as they sway back and forth with an eerie whooshing sound.
A dog barks a single bark in the distance, the traffic from the main road hums just above the wind’s whistle.
HIS house, HIS wife, HIS mate, his broken heart.
He rolls the bottle in his hand and throws it into the darkness. Half full, it hits the well kept lawn with a dull thud and rolls to a stop by the unpainted picket fence. He wipes his chin and grips the twelve gauge so hard his knuckles turn white. Staring at the door he screams and kicks it in.
Des woke from his dream with a start. How many times had he had that same bloody dream? He couldn't remember. He didn't even have a wife, never had, and he knew Troy would never cut his grass either.
"Coffee" came the shout from behind him, the familiar sound of Troy's voice. "Thanks mate" grunted Des as he stood, brushing leaves and small twigs off his bare belly "how'd ya date with the devil go Tango?" he asked. The Assassin smiled and held up a small glass bottle in the sunlight, it's contents a pale blue transluscent liquid. "I am forever indebted to your friend for this" said the assassin as he lay his arm over Troy's shoulder "Without his sacrifice I would never have possessed the Devil's nector."
Des shot a questioning look towards Troy before he noticed that the tooth no longer hung around his friend's neck.
"The devil wanted the tooth eh?"
Troy stared at the ground for a few seconds before answering "Fuck it. It was just a tooth." he said, turning and heading towards the Toyota. Des and the Tango poisoner watched him walk away.
"It meant a lot to him, the tooth?" asked Tango as he poured some milk into Des' coffee. "More than you'll ever know mate" replied Des quietly "More than you'll ever know."
"Tell me." said Tango.
Des looked Tango in the eye for a second before he stared out over the horizon and took a noisy sip of coffee "Not my story to tell mate, you'll have to ask Troy."
Des took another sip before bending down and picking up a large stone "I doubt he'll tell ya but" he said as he threw the stone down the hill into the forest, a loud thud echoing around the valley as it hit a thick gum's trunk and landed in the grass "He's never told me" he said finally, turning around and heading back over towards the campfire.
The Tango poisoner stood alone for the next few minutes. Staring out at the undulating hills and the sea that sat behind them, at the ancient rock outcrops and the eagles that flew above them with perfect hunter's eyes.
The assassin watched as the trees leaned one way and then the other in the circulating valley winds and wondered if he would ever find his Helena. "And what if I do" he wondered "what then?"
The world's most wanted assassin sighed heavily as he pulled the satalitte phone from his pocket and dialed Richard's number. The chopper would arrive at six.
