Tuemckey's THE PUZZLE(Piece C)

C.The puzzle's complete, is there any piece missing?




''What does the bastard want now?'' James asked himself.Maybe he was tired of this whole letter charade and wanted to reveal himself. Step into the light and become known, shwon on tv, interviewed by newspapers. Just like any other serial killers. He wanted to be famous.
''Nah, it can't be it.''James responded to himself.
He hadn't made more than 50 yards from his apartment flat when a white van approached him, two black guys looking like bodybuilders jumped at him, spraying mace into his face and throwing his numb, non-responding body inside.No chance of calling his partners now. If there ever was a chance. The van rode with such haste and speed that it seemed the end of the world was cahsing after them and the driver and occupants were the only persons that knew about it.
Finally James could face his obsession for the past half year, see what flesh he was made of and what motives sprung behing his actions.
One hour later he had been dumped in an old and remote mansion, outside the city limits and off the recent maps. They had tied him to a chair in a cold room, listening to screams, yells and shrieks of women.
The supposed serial killer entered the room. He turned the lights on but James was still bended.
-Welcome, agent Strohm! I've been expecting you....
-Who are you, you sick degenerate bastard?
-let's not give in to vulgarities, shall we agent.I'm sure the Academy teaches its men to handle any situation they're in, dangerous or otherwise, with extreme caution and calm. That, for me at least, means a certain tone when coverstaing, a certain approach to the person you're speaking with. In this case, me. And I don't think you've shown any of the imposed rules just now.
-You're still a fucking degenerate bastard, you prick! Let me go and I'll show you manners, the same ones you've shown your victims.
-Victims? ha....Why do you want to call them that? Do you think they would want to be remembered by that name? The victim of a serial killer. Please bear in mind that all of my killings have not been casual the least, but thoroughly planned.And frankly, I'm quite proud of that...
-You're proud of being a killer? You bastard!
James still struggled to break free from the ties.
-I'll put the language to the shock and to the spray. I'm not a killer, I'm only human. No one can be given the fault for my actions, but neither I can be called by that name. Do you think I chose to end those girls' lives? Nobody chooses its own life and you know that. Did you choose your life, your job, agent Strohm?
-Yes, I did, so I can lock forever behind bars sonavabitches like you....
James spat, but his target was thin air.
-I'm starting to believe you've got a limited vocabulary, agent. Surely you can do better than that . I thought of you highly, please don't disappoint. Do you think the men you put in prison choose their fate? It is only society and lifestyle that makes them do what they do, act abnormal, as many would put it, be the outlaws.Do bear in mind that these individuals have wives, kids , families. And you, by ending their freedom, are breaking apart families.Can you imagine a girl that loves his father, although he's a...say...rapist, crying hot, sad, salty tears upon hearing the news that she doesn't have a dad anymore, cause you've locked him away. Do you choose to do that? It just happens. Do you think a blind man chooses to be blind, a deaf chooses to be deaf, a mute chooses to be mute?
-What has this got to do with your gruesome murders?
-It has got ot do a lot.You don't understand it now cause you can't see with my eyes, but i'll tell you more about that later.
-How many have you killed?
The killer didn't respond.
-Why did you bring me here?
Silence. No answer.
-Answer me, you fucking motherfucker.
-Again with that tone, agent. That's no way to talk with your counterpart..
-Counterpart my ass, you fuck! Do you wanna kill me, torture me, what?Just get this over with! I'm not writing your biography so I don't want to listen to your thoughts, ideas.I don't give a fuck about what you are and who you are. To me, you're a pathethic fuck that's trying to find himself motives for the crimes he's comitted. Aren't you?
-You're quite far and away from the truth.Tell me, what are we as humans? Are we superior beings put on earth? Are we having the right to rule earth and opress other animals or other lifeforms. cause in the end we're nothing more than the most vicious and savage animals. It's in our blood. We crave for raw food, raw flesh.Tell me, don't you find it awkward that when a car accident, a train disaster etc. happens, we as people can't do anything else but gather around the place of massacre and gaze, grinning, hungry for more.Cause we're plain hyenas and we sense death and blood from miles away and we live with the images of limbs torn apart and stomachs turned open or broken craniums. It's our natural drug. What keeps us high.If we wouldn't get this dosage this dosage we'd start killing eachother, for nothing, just to stop the urge of seeying and tasting atrocities with our eyes. It's who we are.
-What the fuck are you talking about? Are you on drugs or something? So, because you don't see enough crime reports on the daily news you've just become a killer yourself, so you can live these events in first person.
-I think you're confining me in a small box, agent.
-You're fucking right I do. It's called solitary, for 40 fucking years. That's what you deserve.
-And you might be the one to judge what anyone deserves. Then you might enlighten me on several issues. Do you think The Vietnamese deserved to be bombed by the Americans? Or the Koreans, Irakis and so on? Do you think we deserve the right to vote and after 4 years of lies we find out our vote has been lost to oblivion. Do you think Africa deserves to be raped 500 more years so that the whites can finally say ''there's nothing we can do for you anymore, we're sorry.'' Do you think those girls that I've killed deserved to die by my knives. Or the ones that wait their turn? Agent, you're mistaking alot of my discussion with you with some sort of trying to escape plea. I'm not trying to escape, cause i know I can't be caught.And I'm gonna give you answers to your questions. But you won't ask me anything.
-What kind of game is this?
-It's no game, agent.
Silence.
The room, although was very cold, temerature-wise, felt like a sauna for the police officer.
The killer was toying with his mind, probably trying to get answers from him, see how much they knew about him.The truth was they didn't know anything, or close to anything, so in case he'd make it alive, he'd use all the info to get the bastard, once and for all.
-I'm all ears, said James.
-Good, you should be.I know one of your colleagues named ''The Barbie syndrome'' book as a point of reference next to my killings.I've never actually read it, although I hear it's quite good, nor have I based anything I've done on even the rumour of it existing and its premise. Besides my girls have not been prostitutes.
How could he know of the book? James asked himself.There had been nobody from the outside at the time that conversation had taken place.And he hadn't mentioned it to nobody else outside the precinct.
-You wanna know why you feel as if you're having something stuck in your eye? It's because you do have something in your eye. I planted a microscopic camera behind your retina that's linked to the one I have. So, everything you see I see and vice-versa. But only if I want to.You probably don't remember but those nightmares that you had were images sent by me through the device in your eye.
When had that happened? He couldn't remember anyone breaking into his apartment to plant a camera in his eye. This was turning into a creepy confession, to say the least.
-The numbers of killings I've made is 17.I've got three more on my list, but you can save them. Do you like puzzles, agent? I never did like puzzles when I was a kid. All those pieces that didn't fit, then when they did, there were pieces that din't make sense withing the whole. But as yaers passed, I grew fond of them and learnt the secrets of building a puzzle, learnt the way the pieces must grow the entire picture, it's quite an art, in my opinion. And with a puzzle you can save the next 3 girls' lives. I'll tell you how you'll do this. I've cut already 3 dead girls into pieces, so you've got three sets of 2 hands each, arms, legs and so on.
James started to puke.His stomach and his mindwould not bear the torture the killer's words were inflicting on him.
-Don't worry, I've cleaned them of blood, besides they're bandaged. So, what you have to do is to put together these 3 bodies in order to save the remaining 3 ''vic-tims'' on my list. I guarantee I'll flee the city and you'll never meet me again. I can't let you get me, but at least you have saved 3 women from their deaths and at the end of the day, you're still the hero.If you're able to put just one body in its rightfully order, you'll save just one girl and so on.
James almost fainted.
-Hope you're good with puzzles.I wouldn't want you to miss this opportunity of saving these lives.No you get the chance to choose life over death and decide who deserves to live and who not to.And to make your work easyer, I'll show you the footage of the girls being choped up. Maybe that way you can remember the parts better.
The killer pressed a button on a remote he held in his right hand and soon the ligyhts were dimmed and a clip started playing. He took the bend off James' face and put a knife blade between his teeth.
-This will help you get free. I'll be upstairs, watching you all the time. After you cut the ties, you'll find the bodies in the large freezer behind the closet. I assume you'll know what to do afterwards.
The serial killer's voice sounded more familiar now than ever.Could he have been someone he'd know? Soeone close to him?
The killer closed the door behind him, looking at the officer's weapon. It fitted his hand perfectly.
-Nice gun...


TWO DAYS LATER

James gathered all his men to bring the news.
-As of today guys, the case is closed by orders of the captain.
-What? That's bullshit...
-I know, I know. It seems they think we've spent too much time and energy on it and we've gotten nothing out. Not even a single drop of truth.So please, stop chasing leads, stop scooping for witnesses or prints, it's over. I'm going home, it has been an exhaustinh half year. I suggest you do the same.
James took his coat and left the building.
Twenty minutes later another letter showed up at the precinct.
''I've decided I should do the step I had thought I'd never take. I'm giving myself up.Before it's too late, come get me. The adress is this.''
-Quick, call James. We've got him now! said Jay
But the ex in-charge officer was not to be found on the phone. Probably he had turned it off to enjoy some serenity and peace of mind for the first time in six months.
-Nevermind James, if he picks up while we're on the road we'll tell him where the spot is. Now, let's move, let's move.
The whole precinct was mobilised and a convoy of 20 police cars left the station in such rush that not even the captain knew what was going on.


The remote mansion had two levels and a basement.The only road that got there was an old country road connected to another lost on the map road.There were no means of communication within the range of 30 miles and probably not even an all-seeying satellite didn't know of the existence of this place.The house had been a heritage piece the killer had gotten from his dad. He was sometimes remembering the rants about not liking the house and wanting to sell it, but in the end he was more than happy how it turned out to be.Quite a helping hand to his actions.
The basement was the main control room and source of electricity for the house.It resembled a hi-tech bunker, filled with radio stations, police stations, custom made tracking devices and other usefull tools.The first level had three rooms, a kitchen turned into a sort of lab and a toilet that was never used.The second floor was made out of another bathroom and two more rooms. One with trophies and another, bigger one, where the last 3 remaining girls on the list were caged.
The killer entered the room.
-Hello, ladies. How's it going tonight?
All 3 were sitting on the floor, shoe-less, looking skinny and shocked.
-Let us go, you bastard! Help, help, someone please help us!
-Ah, here we go again. You know screaming won't do any good, you've tried that already. Well, this is gonna end very soon, though. The puzzle didn't work out, I'm afraid, thus I'll have to kill you.
The poor girls continued screaming, through sobs and cries.
-This depresses me. Let me put some music on.Maybe that will cheer you up.
He pressed a button on his remote control and the whole house started singing Christmas carols.
He set the speakers to maximum volume and left the room.
-I'm going to prepare myself. Bye for now.
The music was so loud that he had to put headphones on not to get disturbed. He couldn't take the screams anymore. But now he couldn't hear nothing that was going on outside either.



Jay and the rest of the crew phoned James a few more times, but still no answer.
-When we're taking this sonavabitch down, I want James there aswell. He's the one that must take the laurels in this case, he's the one with the sleepless nights due to this bastard. We go in, clean, no noise and we nail the prick. I want everyone focused and ready for action.He might send us into a trap, for all we know, so be carefull.Mike, you back David and Rick. Mark, you're going with me and the first team at the entrance. Let's do it guys, let's do it!

As the police convoy pulled closer to the mansion, there was only one window lit. They could hear the music from a hundred meters.
-Is he having a party with...carols? said Mike
-Guys, don't joke. This all might be a trap. Eyes open for everything.
The policemen rushed out of their cars, clad in bulletproof vests and gas masks.
-Go, go, go, go!
-Secure the perimeter, secure the perimeter!
Mark and Jay with the first team broke the fron t door.
-It's the police, nobody move.
The music was quite an adversary.
-Fucking music! yelled Mark
Ten seconds later they were everywhere the first level, searching the rooms, making their way inside the darkness with flashlights.
-All clear!
-Upstairs, upstairs! Go, go, go!
When they broke into the trophy room, some had to take their masks off and vomit.
-Fucking sick bastard!
-I hear screams in the next room! said Jay
The 3 girls looked like ghosts to the policemen.
-Rick, give them a blanket, quick!said Jay
He turned to the ''to-be'' victims.
-Are you alone in the house? Are you alone in the house?
But due to all the screaming the girls had no more power to talk. Besides the loud music was not allowing them understand fully the cops' questions. They just pointed down.
-Ok, guys, let's check the basement. There should be one. Double check all the rooms for weapons or bombs and get these girls somewhere safe. Call an ambulance! yelled Jay at his men.
-The fucker must be somewhere hiding.


The serail killer had heard the noises and the commotion when it was too late. As he was taking the headphones off, Jay and his men had already broke into the basement.
-Don't you move, you piece of shit! Drop the headphones, drop everything. If you've got any concealed weapons, I suggest you throw them away otherwise I'll turn your ass into Swiss cheese, you fuck.And turn off the fucking music.
The killer pressed the button and silence stood between men.
-Nowhere to hide now, huh, prick? Answer me!
The serail killer didn't react in any way, other than putting his hands over his head.
-Turn around, motherfucker! said Mike
-Why should I hide, I'm the one that called you here.....said the killer
-Turn around, he said! yelled Jay
-You don't wanna do this....the killer spoke softly.
-Wait till James sees this....said Mike
The serial killer turned around, facing the police squad. An evil grin stood on his face, looking proud and content with himself.
The policemen let their guard down for a split second.
-James, is that you!!!!!??????...........


THE END.



Appendix:
All that you've heard, read and seen
All that you wish to be and that you've been
are part of the Puzzle.

All your relatives, from nephews to nieces
Strangers you meet on streets and mates, they're all pieces
of the Puzzle.

Every breath you waste, every food you taste
Every muscle in your body or thought in your brain
You're here so don't live your life in haste
Try to figure out who's behind your shadow and what's to gain
from the Puzzle.

You might find it difficult to see it through
To realize the pieces taking form and open like a mussel
At the end you'll find out it is you
The mind behind this Puzzle.




All rights reserved Tuemckey 2009.

Tuemckey's THE PUZZLE(Piece A+B)

A.One piece at a time.






''Picture yourself in a new town. You're alone, you've no idea where you're going to and have no knowledge of your whereabouts. Now picture yourself in a back alley, badly lit. But not the type you see in films where you can always see your way around, but you're just acting accordingly.I mean the pitch black alley, 19th century old-London type of street. You hear your heartbeats pumping faster and faster, the blood running through your veins to your brain, in such frenzy you'd think it's missing a train, giving you adrenaline, making you filled with fear.Why would you fear a back alley? You can't see anything, but still, you're in a city, civilised people living in it, you know...So why would you fear a street that you wouldn't care about if you'd see it in broad daylight? Well, that's where I come in.You see, you should fear these kind os streets, cause at any moment I might pop out of the darkness and kill you. I love to kill. That's what I live for.I'm a serial killer.I haven't kept track of my ''customers'', but I'D say I've got a palmares of at least 14. And I'm just beggining. I don't wanna rush myself. I've got plenty of time.I don't wanna be known as the guy apprehended just after 3-4 months in the business, cause of a slight mistake. Besides I'm not choosing my ''clients'' on the base ''see them-kill them''. They choose me instead. You might see me in this dark alley, but if you're not my type, you'll be left without a scratch.Hell, I'll even help you get home. And I really can't say I have only one type of persons that I look for.I have to have some chemistry with them, some sort of silent agreement. I like to kill someone that is fun. You might ask how I know they'd be fun to be killed. I just do. It's a matter of seconds. Your profilers might tell you that I'm suffering of some sort of disorder of any kind just to make you believe they are justly payed. The truth is they've no bloody clue about what's happening in my head, or any other criminal head, for that matter. And I mean before, during and after the killing. Dream on!
You probably know from movies that we(serial killers) prefer a knife.It doesn't make any noise, it's light, it's less traceable and at the end of it, it doesn't leave the mammoth prints a gun or bullet might do.But I've told you enough already. I'm prepared to go out and have my next ''client''.Oh, and another thing. You won't ever catch me. I know you, but you've no idea who I am.
11:45 pm
Signed,
The Real Serial killer you're looking for.''





B.The pieces have another side to them.



The interior of a police station. Lots of cops inside, paperwork to do. Phones ringing. To put it shortly, Hell on earth. For some. Just another day at the office, for others.
-He's playing with us, the in-charge with the investigation officer said while putting down the letter.
It was the same letter, the same serial killer they were chasing after.But they had gotten it for half a year almost, same day every month, same writing, all the commas and spaces between words. At first they'd thought they'd been receiving xerox copies, but they were mistaken. Every note was perfect in mimeting the last one. This guy was taking time writing these letters and surely wasn't just an average bloodbath killer.A killer that thought. making him double the danger. The number of victims must've been smaller than that. Strangely, they'd received the first letter only two days after they've discovered the 3rd victim. And no other bodies were found up till now.So, either he had planned to only have a certain number of casualties on his name, unknown for now, or they had yet to find the remaining victims.
-He's toying with us, continued the officer.
He sounded angry, stressed, at the end of his powers. With the will of making it and trying harder, but with no hope of success. He looked his partners in the eyes, looking for answers.He was expecting any of his colleagues to raise their hands and pop the solution: ''I know this guy, he's my neighbour!'' or ''I think I know who he might be, the bloke that works at the grocery store I buy liquor from'' or ''I've seen him at the strip joint I'm member of.''The in-charge officer expected any of these answers. Any would do fine. They'd call it a day and pack home, chilling in the couch, enjoying a brew or a woman, watching tv, whatever.Instead nobody said anything. This silence was the type of silence one might imagine pirates thinking about the exact place of a treasure. They had no leads, no witnesses, no prints, nothing.All they knew was that he used a knife and that he must've been using one for a long time, cause he sure finished off his victims quicly.And strangely enough, the crime places hadn't been at all at the outskirts of the city, but just small, badly-lit, side streets of packed boulevards in the centre.
It had been almost half yaer since the first victim, since the case had started, the longest one they'd had.The higher officials had tried several times to shut down investigations due to the lack of evidence and evolution of the overall case, but to no good use. He knew he'd make it, eventually. He knew they'd find out the person behind everything and smile with pleasure, grinning at him while watching the life plus sentence being given.He didn't wanna give up. he knew his team members were to be trusted and they'd come along his ideas and will with the case, no matter where those might take them all.None of them had any real family to be waiting at home, except for a couple of here-today/gone-tomorrow girlfriends and a puppy dog. The in-charge officer was the youngest of the group, yet the most determined about his work. His work was more than a job.It was his passion, his hobby, his drug. And now, after six months on a case, he got caught in the net of obsession with it.
He looked his team once more in the eyes before he spoke.
-Ok guys, let's go through what we know and what we don't know again. Maybe we've been missing something.
-Again, sarge? We've been doing it for month now already, it won't change shit. We still won't know who he is, where's he coming from and why's he breaking our balls with his perfect letters.
-Stay with me here, Jay! Remember that you all have taught me a lot when I was a newbie. And even though I'm in charge of this case, and I'm deciding what and whatnot, I still have a lot to learn from you guys, so please let's get this bastard.I won't allow myself from letting half year pass before even having a suspect, or at least a motive.So, do I have you attention now? what do we know and what we don't know, but we'll find out? Talk to me...Mike?!
-Ok, we know he's killed three women. There's no record yet of the fact that they knew eachother and for the moment there's no connection between them. We can only assume he's killed more, if we take his ''words'' onto consideration.There are no monuments, no secret rendez-vous spots for any secret associations at or around the crime scenes.The 3 places where the crimes were comitted are far apart and have no connection. As far as we know. If you look on the map they don't form any geometrical form or myth creature or anything like that. Thus, he's not basing his preferences on any of that.
-Thank you, Mike, said James, the in-charge officer.
He was pondering the information, letting it sink in deep through his senses, his pores, his skin. He wanted this information to become part of him, take action to his actions, to his thoughts and ideas , to dictate his neurons his next move.
-So, we don't have a motive?
-Apparently not. Like I said the three women had not known eachother. Thus no way tracing back their relation to the murdere, if there was any.He's picking them through the crowd like products off the shelves of a supermarket, not bearing in mind the expiry date, tags and the likes.
-Hard to believe...
-Do ask him when you meet him, will ya, sarge? jay said sarcastically, laughing softly.
-Yeah, maybe I will....., James replied, still pondering the chance of it happening. Ok, what else do we have on paper?
-All three autopsies show the victims died from wounds made by a contondent weapon, in our case a knife.No sign of drugs, pills or any pharmaceutical products were found in their bodies. No trace of bruises or signs of violence on the body , it seems they came to him and didn't oppose much.
-It seems? the in-charge officer asked angrily
-Yeah...
-What do you mean it seems? Then it might aswell seem these murders weren't comitted cause there is no killer, it seems, cause we're not doing our job. It seems.Please guys, a lil bit more heart in this case. I know the captain has put us down so many times for not coming up with even a lead but stick with me. I feel like we've come a long way and right round the corner we might find the solution to this...puzzle of a case.
-Ok, let me finish then, Mick replied.each one of the victims was killed with a different knife.On the first two, american knives were used: a Centofante 3 by Spyderco and aHeavy Bowie 9''. The third one's european though, Miguel Nieto.All three hunting knives. Here comes the intriguing part.The tests and the autopsies have shown that the blades are the same with those that are widely available but the handles have been custom made. For a better grip, use, speed, force, you name it. The guy knows about knives.
-Is it possible to change the handle and still make it work?
-Yes, if you know how to do it. If me or any oy you would do it, chances are we'd cut our fingers off in the process of using it afterwards.This guy sure knows better.
-So, we've got no prints, thus he's using gloves. Maybe that's why he's replaced the handles, to fit with his specail gloves. Check into that, Jay, will ya?
-Yes, sarge...
-No witnesses...How come there were no homeless on the streets. The killer himself tells about back alleys.There must've been a hobo around.
-Actually no, sarge. Remember the mayor's ''Free the centre'' campaign last year? They took all the poor fellas off the nice city centre streets and threw them at the outskirts. Personally I haven't seen a homeless downtown in quite some time.
-Hmm..
-And I've made some extra investifations.
-Do tell, Jay..
-Have you ever heard of ''The Barbie syndrome''?
-What? You mean the women obsessed with having a body like the doll?
-No, it's the book..
-What book?
-''The Barbie syndrome''. It's by this indie writer Tuemckey Shakur.
-Indian writer?
-No indie writer, as in indie-pendent.It's about this japanese guy that's killing these teen prostitutes in Tokyo and they all are dresses like schoolgirls. But his actions are triggered by math ecuations. It's quite interesting.
-Do you buy that stuff, Jay?
-Some pal gave it to me a couple years back.
-So, you think our guy read this book and then decided ''ok, why don't I become a serial killer, it's great!''. I won't believe that shit unless I see the fucking book in his fucking collection. How does it end, by the way?
-Read it yourself, sarge...
-So, the victims might be, scratch that, sorry, might've been hookers. Any record on that?
-Not yet, but we're still checking it out.
-Good. Back to work now. Captain's waiting for me for lunch. Hope he's not hungry for human meat.



They were sitting in the police restaurant, face to face, just like normal clients, minding whatever business was, enjoying whatever was there to enjoy. The police didn't own the restaurant but if was known and called as such due to the fact that a lot of cops were having breakfast or lunch there. It was pretty close to their precinct.
-So, you see captain, this is a strange case to get to the bottom of it. No fingerprints, no witnesses. There was no blood at the scenes of murder.
-What are you implying now? Vampires?
-No, I'm just saying it's strange. That's why I'm telling you I need more time to get to the core.
-You had enough time, James. Half a year.That's enough in my book. You could've solved a dozen cases in that time.At least give me a lead, a list of suspects. I'm on your ass cause the mayor's on my ass on this other side.Follow me?
James nodded.
-Last week he called me up to his office and said''Your boys are worthless, you said you'd put your best on this fucking case and here we are, six months later, still with this fucking letter in our hands, trying to figure out how the fuck has he written it, word for word, so damn good''. What was I supposed to tell him?
James nodded again.
-I told him I'd give you another week and if still no results, then I'd close the case.
-What? Captain! Me and my team have been busting our balls to try and find just a piece of truth in this big pile of shit.I sense I'm close to getting this motherfucker, but I need more time!
-You don't have any, James! My meeting with the mayor was last week. You've got two days left! Let's just keep the victims' number at three.
-What if the victims are more than that? Just like he said?
-Every nutcase says that.They're the kind of people that'd think they killed Jesus or JFK. You can't believe a killer. You know better than that.
-It's the cop hunch, Captain...
-Cop hunch, huh?Let me give you a piece of advice, James. Leave the ''hunch'' at home from now on, just like I did ten years ago, and you might become something. Gotta run now, got another meeting with the mayor. See you James.
-Good day, captain.
-Likewise.
Both men stood and shook hands.
Despite the fact that the captain was part of the precinct and had backed everyone, aswell as kicking their arses, James knew little or nothing about him as a person.He had no recolection of the captain speaking about or even mentioning kids and a wife, and his house with the infamous 500 rare books library was quite an urban legend in its own right within the station.He found that strange, after all these years working with the captain, to be having so little info on him.He, and most of his colleagues thought the captain to be highly inteligent, although they had no evidence to actually back up their theory.
After lunchJames returned home, walking through the half-deserted city, due to a very cold autumn rain.Coincidence or not, he passed near a crime scene and he stopped there for a few moments.The alley looked dark, indeed, and uninviting for any stroller, but there was nothing to it so menacing, so evil, as the serial killer would put it himself.No black, hungry for blood tentacles creeping from beneath the asphalt, no ghosts screeeming eerie and softly, trying to lure new victims, no serial killers, waiting in the dark with custom made knives. Obviously, no fingerprints and no witnesses. It was quite an interesting place, actually.
Right around the corner, one of the most hip restaurants in town was greeting its customers and during evenings, when the serial killer supposedly attacked, a long queue formed outside its premises. Two blocks away there was a taxi station, buzzing with people of all ages and races, like a big bee-hyve. Could have been that the killer used on of the taxis to flee the crime scene easily.Or maybe the killer was one of the cab drivers. Maybe one of the customers refused to pay, thus making him comit a murder. And maybe, afterwards, the newbie killer got a taste of it and just continued with the whole thing.Not likely to have happenned, James thought.He just continued his was home. He was tired. His eyes hurt.
Ever since the first victim and first letter he accused this peculiar eye problem, as if something was stuck in his eye, bothering him from inside the cornea.He had made an eye test at some point, but the doctor had told him there was nothing he could notice at that moment and had advised him to take another test. Unfortunately he had no time to.
There was no familiar voice welcoming him home as he opened the door to his apartment and stepped on the rug. Not even a bark.He had no pictures of relatives hanging on the walls.He thought that'd bring bad luck for work. Maybe he should've started putting on some frames now, considering how the case was going.
It wasn't until he reached his bedroom that he noticed someone had broken in. Which was strange, cause his pay was not a sum thieves would be longing for. He wasn't , either. Was this entering related to the case somehow or just some petty burglar that chose the wrong target.There were no documents missing and after a thorough inspection he concluded that everything was still belonging to him, the only damage done would be a couple hours of cleaning and putting everything in order.
It had been an exhausting 6 months. First the case and the numerous sleepless nights thinking who the killer might be. Some more sleepless nights due to his eye problems. And now this, having his house penetrated by soemone that was clearly looking for something, but couldn't find it.
James decided she should announce some fellow colleagues, maybe they could get some prints. He wasn't in the mood to start another investigation now. He went for the phone but a split second before he dialed the first 9, he froze.He put the phone down and grabbed the envelope laying next to it. He ripped it open and read the note inside. He recognised the writing, infamous by now, the same one used in the letters they'd received at the station.
''Meet me here. We need to talk.''
He put on his jacket, packed with two extra clips for his gun and went out.

Nothing to do..

..that's why I thought I could reccomend some movies.
Anchorman
Talladega nights
Role models
Superbad
Zack and Miri make a porno
I love you, man
Forgetting Sarah Marshall
Old school
School for scoundrels
Step brothers
Walk hard
Semi-pro
Hot rod
..............
and some musicians
Vangelis
Jarre
Klaus Schulze
Tangerine Dream
Edgar Froese
Jerome Froese
Cell
Ulrich Schanuss
Johannes Schmoelling
Gert Emmens
Ruud Heij
patchwork
ron Boots
Rene van der wouden
Erik Wollo
Frank van Bogaert
Create
Syndromeda
Phrozenlight
Von haulshoven
Dutch Space mission
Wolfram Spyra
Pete Namlook
David Wright
Code Indigo
Skip Murphy
Craig Padilla
Zero Ohms
Steve Roach
Chronos
Rudy Adrian
Airsculpture
Syn
Synco
Free System Projekt
Eppie E Hulshof
Bernd Kistenmacher
Omega Syndicate
Adelbert von Deyen
Schiller
Robert Schroeder
Wellenfeld
Wavestar
Volt
Waveshape
Erik Seifert
valleyforge
Moonbooter
Erez Yaary
Jeffrey Koepper
At-Moos
Dom F Scab
Jiannis
Lambert
Palantir
Thomas Fanger
Mario Schonwalder
Bas Broekhuis
Asura
Carbon Based Lifeforms
Software
Peter Mergener
Cosmic Hoffman.....
etc etc etc etc etc.....

The Roman holidays.....

All roads lead to Rome. Rome is the world's capital.The most beautiful city in the world.
We've heard them all, and in parts, they are true.
But there's a face to Rome that the average tourist doesn't know about until it's too late:the scammers.What do I mean exactly? Well, let's just say you're planning a holiday in Rome, preparing the budget, places to visit, fares, prices, all that. Don't do it. Why? Cause your budget and initial planning might get a hard slap in its face once you're ''enjoying'' yourselves on the streets of Rome, in one of your restaurants or museums.Let me get to the point.
I work as a waiter in a restaurant in Rome. Although I'd reccomend it happily to anyone interested, at the same time I'd like to tell people to stay away from it.Why?
Hmmmm...(clearing throat) well, you arrive there, get seated, enjoy nice Italian cuisine(made express, by the way), some nice wine to it and at the end bang! the bill arrives and you notice that you've got to pay a 15% service charge extra to what you've eaten and drunk. Now, sometimes if you get pizza and pasta you might not get it at the same time, the beef is not of high quality(I'm always eating beef on my day off and it's ten times better that the one I work with, although I buy it from a supermarket), although the price shows otherwise. So why should you pay 15% extra? What for? Now, the trouble is the bill tells you this 15% coming from nowhere is actually service charge, meaning that most of my customers think I'm putting these money into my pocket. I wish...The truth is this 15% is all for the owner, they don't pay taxes off it and it's quite illegal as well. So, I'm not nicking anyone's money. Please don't look at me as if I've robbed you. I don't have the intention, never had.What's nice to know too, is that if you happen to eat in one of these restaurants where they teach you a lesson with either a service , bread or cover charge, you'll be paying all of it just cause you're a foreigner and if you ask about ''what's this or what's that'' they might treat you by speaking Italian, although they might've grabbed you inside the locale in English. Italians don't pay such things. Don't let yourselves fooled by ''it's a goverment tax'' or ''it's because this reastaurant lies in the centre''. That's just bollocks.
Here's some other examples of real Roman scammers.
A couple months ago there was a case discussed in local papers about a Japanese couple that ended up paying a total of 700 euros for a dinner.Including 150 euros for the TIP!!!!
Another Jap lost some 4000 euros in a night club for a bottle of Champagne!!!!
Roman ''gladiators'' asking 20 euros for a photo with them!!!
You might end up paying triple the price for a coffee just because you take a seat!!!
The hotel room you booked is no longer available due to internet problems(sic!!) thus resulting in paying more for another room but with the same services.
So, people, in case you're planning a holiday in Rome, be wise and take my advice: go to Croatia, go to Portugal, go to Cyprus, Malta, Egypt, go any other place than Rome. Go some place where money has value and you're not getting back flat broke with no memories, no souvenirs and not even served for what you've payed!
Good luck,
T.

Tattoos are wicked, dude.....

Ok, we can be frank with ourselves, can't we? Well then, let's recognise the fact that, at one point or another in life, we've all wanted a tattoo. Wether it be a heart or your parents' names or just some satanic symbol , we've wanted one. Don't deny this right now.....
From having the will of getting a tattoo and actually crossing to the other side of waking up each morning looking at one on your arm or any other body part is a long way. You see, I don't get tatted people. I mean, it's cool and all and gives somewhat of a harder edge to their personality, but what's the point? Will you still like it in two years time? Will you like it when you're 70 and the skin becomes wrinkled and plain ugly-looking due to, in parts, having a tattoo? Cause I was wondering what Angelina Jolie thought about her Billy Bob tattoo after they'd broke up. ''God damn, I hate the bastard now, so what am I supposed to do with the bloody thing?'' Just like any other thing in life, you like it today, you find it boring the next one. That's how it goes.
I admit I'd be more scared of a tatooed large biker, although he'd be a peaceful bloke, rather than a clean-cut psychotic killer that doesn't look the part and hasn't got any tattoes.I don't make any sense now, do I?
My beef with tattoos is mainly about the persons that get these hip Chinese characters that they don't even know the real meaning of.And what is even more ironic is that most of the times these foreign language characters, that look cool on human skin, I admit, have no meaning whatsoever. It's just jibberish.Would anyone like to have a tattoo with an English jibberish invented word? I didn't think so myself.....
Thus I come to my conclusion, next time you'll want a tattoo, just read a good book and tattoo your mind with some knowledge.
Peace out,
T.

What have I done (Ad-hoc killer)

------inspired by real events------



With his hands shaking, he put on his shirt, before he went out his parents' house.
He just started to walk around the small town, his consciousness feeling numb, his body feeling like somebody else's. The sea would calm him down, put his thoughts and memory into place. So he reckoned, at least.It was four in the morning but the heat of the night wasn't territory one bit. Besides the nearby town of Ajaccio was a thriving port and nightlife centre. That must've kept the sparkling ''fire'' of the night alive.
There was no moon to be seen guarding the sky, so when he left the artificial lit streets he had to dabble in the dark till his eyes grew accustomed to it.
The beach felt cold and lonely, no more footprints hurting its body, no more cigarette butts burning its spirit, no more noisy kids, no more human invasion.The sea was calm and most likely sleeping its few hours of tranquility till the morning tourists would spoil and damage its integrity.
Despite the darkness he was swimming in, it was on the beach, looking at the sea, that he noticed that his hands were full of blood. He wasn't shaking anymore but was still in shock.
And the bigger shock camewhen, little by little, bits of his memory came back to his brain, painting the whole perfect picture of what had just happened.
''What have I done?'' was the first thought that crossed his mind. He wanted to go back to his house, see if it was true, but he hidn't find the courage to.Instead he preffered to take another stroll under the same trance-like state he'd been in when he left the house.He felt he didn't have to explain the situation to himself, but to someone else. He wouldn't understand his own actions, but maybe a neutral part would be wiser in terms of advising him.Thus he turned to one of his friends who lived close enough to the streets where he was now losing touch with reality.His heavy zombie-like feet brought him slowly to his friend's house where he phoned him.
-Listen, Jacques, I can't understand a word you're saying...just come up and we'll talk.
At 5 in the morning his friend didn't find it the right time to discuss, if only was it for serious things.And this was some serious matter. Worth to wake up a friend or anybody else, for that matter.
His friend brought him to his room and by the time he actually opened the door, he noticed his hands and felt a shiver down his spine.
-Merde, is that blood on your hands, Jacques?
His tanned face turned pale. Jacques was still under shock and it wasn't until he sat down and rested his once again shaking hands that one could get in ''touch'' with him.The happenings came back to him and he could make proper understandable sentenses.
-I killed my family, Phillippe...
He didn't look his friend in his eyes while saying it, instead his stare wandered on his parents and brother invisible presences that he must've felt.
A lonesome tear came down his cheek.
-Don't give me this shit, Jacques. I'm gonna call your house right now.
Four calls and a dozen rings later and still no answer. Phillippe turned to Jacques. He hadn't taken his eyes off him since he noticed the bloody hands but now he was ready to take him seriously and hear the facts.
-I want you to be sincere with me, tell me what happened. None of the family murder stuff. What did you do? Kill a rat, a goat, a weasel, what?
It took Jacques a couple of moments to begin his story-telling.
-I woke up at 2 in the morning and...
-Wait, don't leave me outside till half way through the story. There must be something else before that.
-No, phillippe, there isn't, I'm telling you the truth.
Phillippe gave him an unconvinced gaze.
-Go on...
-I woke up, couldn't sleep. I felt trapped in this dream. A dream I couldn't escape.
-A nightmare?..
-Not really. Just a dream.
-What was it about, this dream?
-Nothing.
-What the fuck do you mean nothing? First you tell me about a dream, feeling trapped in it and now you give me the bollocks it wasn't about anything. What was it, a blank screen of a dream?
-I went downstairs and took the biggest knife we had in the house. It shined in the dark, making the way to my brother's room much easyer.I was standing there,looking at him, with the knife in my hand...It didn't take me more than half a minute till I started punching him with it. He'd never wake up......Then I heard my mom had been waking up. I didn't make any noise, mind you, but I reckon she must've felt something terrible had happened, so I rushed to my parents' room and there she was, trying to wake up my dad. She saw me and asked me if anything was wrong. I said no. Then I wispered to her ear ''Marco's gone'' and hugged her. At the same time the blade made its way into her back, she didn't even have time to struggle.As you know, my dad had a few drinks before bed and remained there , snoring, feeling nothing whatsoever. So, I took a cushion and shoved it on his face and kept putting pressure on it for about a couple of minute. I wasn't sure I had the job right, he wasn't moving or anything but he rarely does when sleeping so I had to use my knife once again. I kept staring at their bodies afterwards, feeling proud of what I'd acccomplished. I don't remember if I cried or not....Then I went out, shocked, but not because I had just murdered my family, but more cause I'd seen them dead.I can't tell you why I've done it....truth is at the moment, I don't know the reason myself.....
Without looking at Jacques, Phillippe rose from his chair and called the police.
-Send a car at Rue de Letieres, 16, please, it's urgent!
He felt more than deranged, he had let in his friend to discuss at first, now he had listened a killer voice his murders....

London, here he comes...

My older brother has just left for London, after ten years in Rome. New life, new chances, new hopes. Just wanna take this opportunity to wish him all the best with his endeavour, goona miss the fights with him....
T.

Domestic violence

I was riding the tram yesterday, as rarely I do, going to work , when a woman passed in front of me. Yes, I know, you see those every corner of every street, but not all of them are like this one was.She was wearing shorts and the bruises(read scars and the whole nine yard) were quite visible on her legs. Now, I'm not gonna assume she's into that line of work or that her presumed pimp or clients hit her. She was in her late thirties, for bloody sake. Why should she be working that job, or anybody else, for that matter.
Now, I hate the ''I fell on the stairs'' or ''a rabid dog chsed me and bit me in the process'' type of stupid explanations to cover up what's crystal clear to Stevie Wonder himself:men violence on women.
I can't grasp the concept of a woman being harrased, beaten, hit, whatever and still hang out with the attacker or love him.Cause I'd need to take a deep breath before I could start naming all the cases I know or heard about about doemstic violence and whatnot.
One other thing I was interested in pointing out was that lots of these abused women, may they be wives or not, don't even complain. I don't understand their state of submission. I ain't saying the abused shoud turn into vigilantes and shit, but for fuck sake girls, have a bit more pride. Cause the vicious cycle goes like this ''he hits you, you don't do shit-he hits you, you can't leave him-he hits you, you won't leave him-he hits you, you love him''. Ain't that a bitch!?
I understand how love goes(don't we all think likewise?) and all that but still, how can they put up with it.I mean, on one side you've got the feminist movement, but on the other side the reverse of the medal shows another face to it.
A few months ago, while I was returning from my home country back to Rome, I had the pleasure to meet two gals(aren't I the charmer?!) whom with I chatted the whole two and half hours flight.Besides non-sense we got ourselves in a threesome conversation about cheating and shit.One of them was married and expecting a baby, too.(She was 25yo, though)
And she said that in case she found out, and I mean literally found her husband with another woman she wouldn't dump him.Not only that, but she'd think she was part of the motive why he'd cheat, due to her not fullfilling her wife duties, whichever are those.Now, what about that? Could anything be more fucked-up than that?
Ah, I'm already tired of the subject for now. I'll be back with new ideas as soon as i feel the need to re-open the topic. Until then, if I see a woman with bruises I'll ask what king of job she's got.


T.

Poem

The world is just a place you get lost in
put your thoughts aside and feel it with your heart
you know what you want cause you've the spark within
to get back to reality, that's the tough part


We may lose our innocence as years pass
we might forget we can do good as well
but nobody can steal our dream too fast
we're all children of God, though on Earth Lucifer fell


We hear babies cry and we see elders lose
their place in a cold-hearted society
what would we get if we could really choose
lives are lost on one side, there's no variety


So many things to tell, where to begin
who to prevent the end is near
we all have our ears shut and act like a machine
maybe it's time we open our eyes and see clear.


13 june 2009.

The pack that never arrived...

----Inspired by real events-------


He was waiting the call. That was the deal. As soon as it got home, they would call, give him the pack and the story would be half finished. At least, part of his deal.But he kept waiting and waiting. No sign of the call, no trace of the package.
''What's taking them so long?''. It was due to arrive a couple of days before already and nobody had attentioned him in case something might had gone wrong and thus delayed its arrival.
He needed some fresh air. He needed to clear his thoughts. He'd get out of the house, take a few steps and maybe they'd let him know the pack reached its destination. He took his cell phone , they had the number.
He didn't instruct anyone in the house about the package. Nobody needed to know. No housekeeper, no butler, no relatives.
He was 100% sure he'll get the call as agreed as soon as he'd leave the house premises.The content of the package was slightly unknown to him. He only knew the components names and the whole quantities for each one but he wasn't an expert at combining them into one thing.He knew all the stuff that was in the package was harmless if not combined and untraceable.The most important aspect, though, was that the ones' the package was destined to in the first place will use those components to build an explosive device.

It had all started two weeks prior when his 8 yo daughter hadn't returned from school. He had received afterwards an anonymous call that had told him they had his daughter and in favor to get her back he had to get these substances from his industrial plant. A man with his position, that of the CEO and owner of the plant won't find any difficulties in providing the right things at the right time to the right people, they thought.
The anonymous caller had revealed himself later as being the head of a major terrorist organisation, planning an attack in the near future.
He had then called the factory unit of the plant to get the samples the kidnappers had asked for. But no sign of them yet. He took the path that would lead him to a small man-made lake that stood in the middle of his trees-covered park. It would take him a quarter of an hour to get there and get back, when he'd get the call.He finally arrived there, took a seat at one of the benches and layed the cell phone next to him, looking at it, waiting impatiently for this mircale call. Half hour had passed and still nothing.This was getting tricky and he didn't like it. He wanted to phone the factory and see if they'd sent it, but that'd be his sixth call concerning the matter and the whole thing might get suspicious to everybody that weren't supposed to get involved. The kidnappers had already instructed him to keep it as quiet as possible and to not get anybody else involved. He knew the local police was corrupt enough to not give a damn about him or his daughter, meaning the terrorists must have done their bribing routine already. Hell, even he had payed them once to get his dirty businesses finished and he knew once the money's in their hand they'll do whatever it takes to defend the ''employer'' and get things right. As not letting anyone mess up the plans.
The break he needed was over. He couldn't just stand there, doing nothing. It was little by little eating him. He took the road back to his villa.It was the first time he was actually looking at the trees, the plants, feeling the sound of insects and such. If these small things had gotten to him, go figure how he must've felt inside. His heart was dying whilst thinking about his daughter. Would they hurt her, would they torture her, would they treat her maliciously? He had no way to know any of that , but all he could do was hope they would't touch a single hair.

Upon his return to the house, the butler wanted to tell him something, but he closed his mouth with a sign and went to his office.
-Not now, Adam, I'm busy.....
He opened his pc, trying to get more info on who the terrorists were and what they really wanted. The name of the organisation the leader had provided him with didn't ring any bells whatsoever, but who knew how many small cells of people wanting to bomb shit up were there around.There was nothing on the internet, there was nothing in his archive files. The name didn't match with anything he knew or had known. They must've been new to the game, yet they seemed and sounded so professional and focused.He had to be a notch higher than them to forsee and outsmart them.
The cell rang.The melody sounded eerie and dark, painted with blood. He let it ring a few times. His whole body shaking, fearing that the caller would not be the person he'd expect to.
-Hello.......
His voice was low, but at the same time powerful.
-Did you get it?
He instantly recognised the man on the other end. The mastermind of the whole ''kidnap kid-get the things-make bomb-blow who knows what'' plan.
-Ehm, no....Not yet. It was due to arrive two days ago, I'm still waiting for it too...Listen, could I talk talk with my daughter, I just wanna hear her voice, see if she's ok..
-You're gonna talk with your daughter when you'll see her face to face, that means when you give me what I've asked you for....And yes, she's ok, I'm a business man, just like yourself, I'm not an animal
-Please, just one word.....
He sounded desperate, tears came down his cheek.
-Give me my things and we'll call it off....the other man sounded angry.
-I don't have them, it haven't arrived yet.....
-Why don't you tell me you went for a walk, waiting for the call and in the meantime the package did arrive at you house. They didn't call you personally but they talked with your butler that sent them away. I suppose you didn't speak with anyone of your house employees about the pack.....Am I right?
Silence stood in between the two men. They had been watching him from the beggining. The butler did want to say something, but he didn't even take the time to hear.He realised what he'd done.
-Am I right..? the man continued. Now you're telling me that you don't have the pack just cause you're stupid enough to have it slip through your fingers, right beneath your nose? What kind of a businessman are you, what kind of father are you, what kind of a fucking lame joke are you? You were credited with your kid's life and you fuck it up like this..?
-No, wait, I can get it back....Wait!!!!!!! he shouted
-I'm afraid it's too late, deal is off.....
A shot of a pistol was heard in the background and the screams of a young girl.
-No!!..No, No, No, No.......
He burst into hotter tears, falling to the floor.
-My baby, no.....
His whole body and mind would not react to anything else for twenty minutes.
He got up, went to his private cabinet, where he kept a gun. It was a Model 17 Masterpiece Smith and Wesson. He took it out of its box, and put the six inch barrel into his bouth. He couldn't taste the carbon steel, only the pain and the suffering mixed with tears and the bood that he sensed was leaving his body.If his daughter would not be on this world, he might not as well. They'd meet elsewhere, no kidnappers and no terrorists.
His phone rang again.He was ready to go into oblivion.The melody reminded him of his daughter, but he didn't loosen the grip on the pistol.The trigger was slightly moving, it would be just a split second till the bullett would carve its way into his brain, making a mess on the wall and floor.
The phone kept ringing. If he'd not answer it, his life would end. If he'd answer it, his life would never be the same......
He took the gun out of his mouth and put it in the box he took it from.He rushed to the other side of the office and picked up the phone.
-Hello.....