[Carradona]

Here is Stu Monty's story:



“How many times were they fucking warned about it Markus? It’s good fucking riddance and that’s all there is to say about it”; then a crash of the phone. Most days were a pain in the arse but today had managed to eclipse the worst. Sean Leary had spent the entirety of his day dealing with the fallout from a batch of sackings in his design team, and now he had to somehow put a positive face on for the board meeting tomorrow, where he would present the prototype flange regulator for the new Tsunami fighter jet that he didn’t have anywhere near completed. That shit could wait though. Clutching his laptop and dragging his aching frame to the door and down the corridor he contemplated if this disaster was going to affect the director’s role that was meant to be being lined up for him in Belfast. He’d given Cuntegg Systems the best years of his life and he wasn’t going to miss out on reaping the rewards now.

As the lights came and went on the lift’s display he though about the evening ahead. He’d have to pick up something to eat on the way in and get right on with the presentation for tomorrow’s showdown; he knew he’d be up all night but the thought of the package he received this morning lifted his spirits. He’d take a break later on to enjoy it. He didn’t know what it was but there was something about that particularly violent variety of anal porn that always flicked all his switches; he guessed it was the submissiveness and worried it wasn’t something more sinister, whatever it was the stuff from Feltchbasket.com hit the spot every time. That Chinese place would be open; that would do.

His footsteps collided off the walls as he strode across the cold, neon car park towards his Aston; that was craftsmanship right there, he knew that you get what you pay for when it came to cars. An electric shock of nervousness went down his spine as he worried if the religious protesters would be out by the gates again tonight; they had been plaguing the production of his shiny new killing machine. He thought again how right he was about antidisestablishmentarianism and how the boys at MI5 would soon reign in the lunatics if let off the leash; Stalin had it right when it came to dealing with the cunts. The familiar electronic chirp from the alarm system went off on demand as he neared the car and the lights winked at him. As the shot rang through the air and his body slumped onto the floor beside his briefcase the security cameras watched, emotionless, as the life leaked out of his body. And then a shuffle of footsteps into the shadows. And then nothing.