Read And Comment Honestly Please. THIS IS DRAFT #1, BTW!
I’m just wondering if you like the idea of it?
Ethan sat back in his office chair, raising his brows at the documents Desi had given him earlier that evening. He was working late, so he had his coffee (a necessity for the harsh night hours) an his bonoculars…he had a feeling he’d need them.
He was the only one in the building…security had went home long ago. He had the key, and his boss, Mr. Killfetch, trusted him enough to close down the building before going home, which was at about four or five on a nice Friday night….
The smell of Desi’s perfume had faded (that weird, chappy cherry smell he liked only if a pie was baking in the other room) and now only the new scent of his pressed black suit lingered in the air, occasionally getting mixed in with the other familliar smells as he breathed calmly. He set the papers down into their manilla folder and tapped the key on his computer to open the screen.
He sighed, picking up his tall coffee and taking a sip. It had gone cold. It tasted very much like raw cigarrett ashes…he puckered and set it back down, focusing on the computer screen.
Brett Farcrett. Man handler since the fifties…still on the loose.
And now he was here, in California.
Somewhere, but he was close.
Ethan yawned and stretched. He noticed, for the first time, that the window, which looked out to the cloudy black sky (almost eye-level), had a slight crack in it. It looked like, at a distance at least, a perfect, straight line…he got up from his chair, subconsiously grabbing his Berretta, and walked over to the floor-touched window.
He squatted next to it, the gun dangling in his hand. The glass looked, well, laser sliced into a little line from the bottom of the pane to about an inch or two above it. No one would even try breaking in at this hour…it was way too late (early in the morning, even) for anyone to even think about getting into an expensive office such as his for some drug money.
Only Farcrett had the mind to do that.
He looked down below at the parking lot…nothing out of the ordinary…a few late night cars and–someone lying flat on the ground. It was too high up to see if the person was just a bum sleeping or if…no. Not in a neighborhood like this. He lived in the ritzy part of California. Not the slums at all.
Satisfied, he stood back up, his knees popping, and turned around.
Desi stood there.
She didn’t look right. It looked as if someone had cut every inch of her face with razors. She was bleeding badly and her facial expression was far too blank to read. She had on her office clothes (a black skirt and a blue button-up blouse) but they were dripping in blackish purple blood, draining from her collar to her waist.
"Desi? What happend…?" Ethan inched toward her, reaching his hand to caress her.
She put on a contorted look and opened her mouth wide, her jaws stretching at unhuman lengths. Her eyes were white…Ethan reached for her mouth to try to close her jaws, but she snapped at his hand and bit off an enourmous chunk of his right pinkie. Cursing, he backed away as she opened her jaws wider, wider until they became the width of three full grown water melons stacked atop one another.
Ethan scurried to his desk, reached in his drawer, and pulled out a roll of duct tape, and began to wrap it around his stubbed pinkie. Blood quickly began oozing out from his home made bandages, and he wrapped furiously until his whole finger was fully covered in tape.
He squeezed his eyes shut from the pain and spoke softly to Desi.
"Desi…I need you to answer a question for me…." He toyed with the trigger as he spoke, with his left hand, though.
Desi seemed to ignore him as she expanded her jaws even more, perhaps the size of ten water melons now.
"Desi, what is your mother’s name? Do you know that? Do you know how old you are, Dess?"
A cold breeze broke into the office…the glass in the window had shattered. Several other men and women, all similar to what Desi looked like now, screamed and ran at Ethan. He quickly spun around.
Shots were fired rapidly at each of them, hitting a few in the shoulder, a few in the heart, and one, only one, in the head. That one died immediately, falling to the clean carpet and letting out a final groan.
Desi leaped up behind Ethan and grabbed his mouth and began to pry it open, his lips peeling at each end.
Ethan sealed his eyes shut and pointed the gun up at Desi’s face. He shot…he shot her in the head.

He had killed the few that had managed to jump up to the office and break through the glass…. Morning was soon, in about an hour. He ran down the stairs, skipped the elevator (gun in hand, of course) and sprinted out to his Honda. He shuffled in and slammed the door, speeding away.

Okay, it took me a bit to get into it and when i did i thought – EW.
i would not read a book like that purley because i dont like goor. others will though so i guess you should keep going.
i didn’t get the ‘laser’ thing but maybe because i wasnt paying to much attention.

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