Hello fellow writers! 

I have been away for too long, and am slowly getting back into my writing now.

I have again been working on my thriller The Dying Game which is still in the process of editing and refining.

This for your perusal is a scene from late on in the story when events have built up to a showdown between my main character Malcolm, his nurse friend Nina and a hit-man going by the purposely dodgy name of Rick Fingers.

It also follows a twist where Nina has confessed to Malcolm that she is in-fact a hit-woman hired to lead Malcolm to the Mafia.  Of course now she has decided to help him, and thats when another killer is called in to take over.


Hope you enjoy.

Nina awoke on the sofa in a room within the abandoned hotel the next morning. Malcolm hadn't taken the news well, infact he had shut her out as soon as she had left the room, and no matter how she banged her fists on the door, it made no difference. She hadn't made a mistake. She couldn't go through with it. Why she had suddenly gone against all she had learnt as a killer over the years, was anybody's guess. Maybe it was love.

Outside the hotel, the station wagon sat amongst the undergrowth, semi-hidden from prying eyes. Then a Rolex on the dash went off to a bleeping alarm. Ricky jolted awake; his trilby hat pulled down over his eyes until he sat up and removed it.

"Who, what the fuck?" he gasped, then focused on the watch. He grinned.

"Showtime."

Malcolm had been awake most of the night, asking himself how the wool could have been pulled over his eyes so perfectly. God this woman was good. He had wondered about her, of course, but more in a way of why was she risking her life for him? Not anyway thinking she was going to kill him. He had taken to plodding uneasily around the bedroom, to try and strengthen his limbs. Despite everything, he was at least healing physically. He used a plank of two by four as a make shift crutch, loathing his chair the more he was getting used to it. Then he heard footsteps, and glanced to the door. A shadow could be seen in the light coming in underneath. It was Nina.

"Malcolm? We gotta talk." she said, and he saw the handle turn, but the door remained shut, where he had bolted it at the top and bottom.

He had given himself time to think. If she was still going to kill him, wouldn't she have done it already? Or was there a greater plan afoot? Was it something to do with Carson City? Her choice of location had seemed pretty obscure at first, until she backed it up with bullshit about her Uncle. Or was that the truth? He rubbed an aching in his head. He couldn't think straight anymore.


Ricky walked around to the back of the car, then pulled open the trunk. He smiled at what he saw. Stored inside, were a host of fire arms and more ammunition than he was realistically going to need. Explaining why he hadn't gone in under the cover of night. He had had to gather supplies. He took out a shot gun complete with a strap, and proceeded to load shells into it.

The bedroom door opened, and Nina backed off to see Malcolm stumble out. He was still unsteady, but he felt more independent despite it.

"Malcolm. Shouldn't you be in your chair?"

"What and get fuckin' confined to that thing? Fuck it. I'm getting stronger. Sooner or later I was gonna have to go it alone. Now is as good a time as any."

Nina moved away as he hobbled awkwardly towards the dining area, and she watched, not knowing what to think or say.

"What now?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he replied, then took a seat on the sofa, where a blanket was rolled aside, and the aroma of her still lingered.

"Listen. I know it came as a shock. But I can't help how this started out. Just know now that it's different. I'm different. You've gotta fuckin' understand, or else we're both dead!"

Malcolm looked at her as she raised her voice. He did care for her, more than he probably realised. That's why what she had said had hurt him so much.

"I saw the scars. Are they to do with it? Battle wounds from your past murders?"

Nina walked into the dining area and looked ashamed with herself.

"I knew you were watching me, you know. But when you never said anything, I didn't either. Yes, I got them on a job. Got thrown through a window. But that isn't all."

Malcolm looked down to the carpet and at his cast. He still felt so bloody vulnerable.

"What now?" he asked.

Nina came and sat down in a dining table chair, and turned to face him.

"Malcolm. Look at me." she said sternly.

Malcolm looked at her. She was still beautiful, nothing had changed, and she still had those eyes that had so drawn him in.

"What?" he asked, then watched as she brushed her hair back to show her ear. He frowned, then his eyes slowly widened as with a movement of her hand, the bar-code was revealed, tattooed permanently on her neck.

"Oh..." he remarked, humbled.

"I've had it since I was thirteen. It's how they keep track of us. This gets scanned before each mission to detect my suitability on the agency's mainframe." she explained.

Malcolm leaned forward, reaching to her with his hand. She stopped him short of touching her neck, and held his hand tightly.

"My God. I'm sorry. You must have been through a lot."

"Believe me...you have no idea." she replied.

Then suddenly, a huge explosion was heard, and Nina got up, Malcolm gasping as she rushed to the door. Smoke and dust had filled the foyer, then she saw a silhouette within the smoke.

"Shit. I guess that's not the caretaker." she remarked, then stepped back, and pulled a huge door shut, before propping a chair against it.

"Quick. We gotta get out of here!" she shouted, and Malcolm struggled to stand, until Nina grabbed him, and helped him into the bedroom.

Inside, she closed the door, then hurried to the bed, and pulled out a small case she had brought with her but Malcolm had thought it was still in the truck.

"Isn't that your clothes?" he asked.

"Yes. And other stuff." she replied, then unzipped it around the side, pulled it open then took out two 9mm pistols concealed within.

"Now those I didn't see before!"

"You weren't supposed to see them. Now as I figure it, this room is adjoined to the next, and that gives us another rout out. Stick close and you'll be alright." she said, stuffing a spare magazine into her belt.

Nina had suddenly changed. Yes she had been taking control of the situation up to now, but holding those guns and knowing what he knew; Malcolm was suddenly presented with the very killer she had confessed herself as.

"No...I can't move like you. This is no good." Malcolm retorted, "Who we got here? Somebody who hasn't seen my best side like you have? I'm finished. You fuckin' know it. We both do!"

Ricky charged the door, and the dining chair broke away under the impact, allowing him entry. Pausing in the doorway, he scanned the room for any sign of life whilst loading up a grenade-launcher.

"Raven? You here me lover? You remember me, don't you? We were so close once, until you fucked me that one time, and swiped the job out from under me. You knew that wasn't going to be the end, didn't you?"

A door opened in the adjoining bedroom, and Nina walked in, followed by Malcolm.

"Who's he talking about? Who's this Raven?" he asked.

"It was my code name. Still is. I know who it is now. And in answer to what you said, yes, maybe we are finished."

"Wait. I know what I said, but...well; we gotta get out, haven't we? Shit, you're a killer, right? Fuckin' kill this guy!"

Nina looked back to him, as she reached a window. It was boarded up, fairly securely.

"Well, we used to be together. I knew him at the agency. I stole a job; a big assignment from him. He kinda disappeared after that. Nobody thought he had it in him anymore. They used to call him Ricky Fingers."

"Ricky Fingers? What kinda name is that? I think I prefer Raven."

"He was called that, because he used to take a finger, from each target as a kind of memento."

"Oh lovely." Malcolm replied, then heard another explosion.

"Quick!! In a situation like this you get as far away as possible from the enemy. We gotta go upstairs."

"Upstairs? What's wrong with the front door?"

"Front door? What makes you think he hasn't got two dozen other blood-thirsty killers waiting out there for us?"


In the other bedroom, a huge gaping hole had appeared where the wall used to be, and then Ricky stepped in through the clouds of dust and crumbling debris. He tossed the grenade launcher onto the bed, then chambered the first round of an UZI 9mm submachine gun.

"Come on, Raven, sweet heart - what's the use in running? You know you belong to me, honey." he announced, then approached the door.

Nina and Malcolm came out of the bedroom and hurried past the entrance of the foyer to a tall staircase. Nina ascended it two steps at a time, but of course, things were tougher for Malcolm. She looked down at him, then the bedroom door opened, and before Ricky could appear, she opened fire with both guns, blasting the frame work until the door fell off its hinges. It gave Malcolm enough time to join her, and the plank of wood tumbled down the steps as she shoved one 9mm into her belt and took his hand, making him climb the staircase quicker than was comfortable.

"We gotta keep moving." she said, then pulled Malcolm with her as Ricky came out of the bedroom, then opened fire after them, blasting the staircase, until it crumbled and began to fall apart. Then as they reached top, it fell away behind them, and a huge crash was heard.

"Jesus Christ. Tell me again why we picked this place?" Malcolm asked.

Nina didn't reply, and just pulled him with her as they hurried down the corridor, floor boards creaking like the whole place was ready to collapse.

Back on the ground floor, Ricky lay against a stone pillar, and coughed in the dust.

He looked to where the staircase used to be, then got up, hurrying back into the
bedroom. Inside, he opened fire on the boarded up window, then rushed forward, pulling the boards away, before climbing out.

The night before had given him plenty of time to survey the building, and he had spotted a fire escape as he checked the place out. He recalled peering in through the window seeing Malcolm lying awake. He could have so easily have killed him - but he knew Donatello had bigger plans.

Nina proceeded slower now along the corridor, and Malcolm began to dordle behind.

"Come on, we gotta move!" she said, then looked back to him.

Malcolm was panting, as he stopped to support himself against a wall, "No. I can't go on. My leg is fuckin' killing me." he said.

Nina sighed.

"I know. But you have to be strong." she said, and went to approach.

Malcolm then raised a hand, "No, you're right. I know you are. I'll be alright. Just give me a minute."

Nina nodded, still a few feet ahead of him, and she took a moment to check her guns.

Then suddenly, rapid gunfire was heard, then beams of light shot into the corridor from bullet holes in a door.

"Shit." Nina gasped, then the door opened, and Ricky walked out slowly, re-loading his UZI.

"Raven. Together again, huh?" he remarked.

Nina looked shocked, then cried out: "Malcolm! Run!!"

Malcolm looked terrified, then turned and limped down the corridor, before diving through an open doorway.

Nina raised a gun, but hesitated for some reason. She bit her lip with mixed up emotion, then as Ricky turned to look at her, she shot him in the shoulder. Crying out, he stumbled and fell. Nina stared at him, the 9mm seeping smoke into the air.

"Ricky...." she gasped.

"Raven...." Ricky replied, blood staining the wall beside him, the UZI held loosely on his lap.

"I never wanted this. I thought what had happened was in the past."

"It was never going to go away, and you know it, babe." he replied, and then suddenly returned fire, and Nina dived out of the way into the next corridor.

She landed hard on her front, then rolled over, and aimed both guns back. Silence lingered, then footsteps, and a shadow was cast before her.

"Stop this, Ricky. I thought we were supposed to be the same, we had an understanding!"

"Maybe some stuff is best left in the past." his voice replied, then Nina rolled out of the way just as bullets tore up the floorboards, then she got to her feet, backed off firing both guns until they ran out of bullets simultaneously.

"Fuck!" she cursed, then turned and ran, discarding one gun so she could take the magazine from her belt and load up the other.

Malcolm turned over on the floor of a library, and he sat up to see his cast had shattered, revealing his bruised, partially healed leg. Steel pins still stuck out of his shin, but at least he felt better now he could move both legs at once. He slowly got up, and then heard more gunfire.

"Nina." he gasped, then limped out of the room.