24 February 2013
Paulie was muscle for the mob, and when he was called upon to whack someone, he did the job right, without leaving messy incriminating details strewn about that might cause later problems...so while it wasn't his favorite part of the job, Paulie knew the importance of getting rid of a stiff completely, without a trace to be found. He was careful about his work, and took pride in it...
...Paulie didn't play favorites, either. Whether the contract was on a snitch, a rat, a weasel, or whatever, Paulie didn't judge his contracts, but gave each one his complete and full attention. So when Paulie was assigned to whack a geneticist, he didn't pause one minute over whacking some pencil-necked geek with a fancy degree. The scientist guy died just like the others when Paulie knifed him, and dragged his scrawny body in a cover to the meat processing plant where Paulie had like, an arrangement. Paulie cut the body into smaller pieces on a power saw, and then was able to fit those pieces wrapped in plastic into several gym bags which all fit nicely into the trunk of his car. Then it was off to the dock where a small powerboat took Paulie and his dismembered friend out to sea where the body parts could be conveniently disposed of. "Eat well, fishes!," muttered Paulie as the last piece of flesh was consigned to the deep.
Contract killers tend to have short memories as there's always the next contract to look forward to, so Paulie troubled his mind no further with thoughts of the dead geneticist until late one night a knock came to the door of his flop house. Paulie opened his door to behold half a dozen naked guys, all of whom could have passed for twin brothers of his last contracted hit! The men smelled of salt water and the sea, and some of them dragged tendrils of seaweed from their bare ankles, wrists, and hair. Their bare feet left wet imprints, and sea water dripped down from their damp and stringy hair.
"Who the hell are you?," Paulie demanded to know as the men swarmed about and overwhelmed him.
"We're the man you killed, or rather, what grew from his remains," answered one as others nodded in agreement. "We're all genetically identical," said a second.
"You see, Dr. Gabriel had injected himself with starfish DNA, and starfish can regenerate themselves from a portion of their bodies even when it's cut into pieces," expanded a third. "In a sense, we're all identical clones of Dr. Gabriel. You, however, lack such regenerative capabilities."
While Paulie's mind struggled to grasp the implications of what he was being told, his body struggled unsuccessfully against six angered men who carried him physically to the meat-processing plant where recently Paulie had performed unspeakable acts on a murdered corpse. And only slightly later as the saw blade sang, hell called Paulie's name...
Calling His Name... • Opuss № I