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Max Killer

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This is a story that I decided to write inspired by me and a friend. We were talking about what we would name our child, when and if we had one. I said I Really didn’t know but he had a rather humorous answer. “I’d name my kid Max Killer! That name is so awesome! He’d be the coolest kid ever!”. I replied back, “He’s going to be beaten up a lot at school.”. He yelled in fury, “NO HE WOULDN’T! He’d know how to beat people up and stuff, JUST because his name is ‘Max Killer’!”.

Chapter I

The name is Killer, Max Killer. I was down at the bar scoping out my target. I was hired by an unnamed employer. He wanted men dead. Lots of them. It was my job to fulfill his wishes. I decided to get some information at this bar. This was my first mission, and I was an idiot. I went up to one of the tables where a bunch of rowdy men with many tattoos were. I sat myself down. Not a good move.

“Hey! What’re you doing!”

I panicked, I felt a strong urge to run home, just as I did when those bullies beat me up in that schoolyard. I didn’t, I couldn’t. I froze, “I just… Wanted… To… Um.” I felt warmth running down my legs. “I just wanted to…” I paused, guessing how long I could stay without any pain being inflicted on me. “SELL YOU SOME TABLES AND STOOLS!!!” I blurted as fast as I could. Less than a millisecond later, I bolted. I was out of the pub.

I got to my apartment and cried. Remembering all of the days that my dad said I was awesome, and that I could win any battle, win anything. The complete opposite happened. The first “beef” I had with someone was in the second grade. His name was Jacob. That was a stupid name. And, I did start the fight after all. I said his name was girly, especially compared to mine.

I attempted to leap upon his back and pummel his face. I planned it out in my head. I was then to do a back flip and kick him before he fell backwards. Then I was going to jump on his back while he was on the floor (Presumably he would be unconscious by then) and do a victory dance with cleats on. All I manged to do was get flung back, and the wood chips dug into my body and went in my underwear. I groaned and got up.

I also imagined I would say something witty every battle I partook in. So, in pain, I mumbled “That’s how you want to play it, eh?” Not very witty, I know. But I was 7. So I attempted to retry that plan. He punched me in the face as soon as I took a step closer to him. My nose bled profusely. He got off with a warning from the teacher. He said I fell and he tried to help me but I lashed out and he was just “restraining me”.

God I hated that kid. But, here I am. A weenie and crying at age 25. I had to get back to the job, so I changed my pants and underwear to non wet clothes. I also took a shower. I turned on some Kate Bush and sat all depressed in my beige rocking chair. I ended up falling asleep. I woke up and it just so happened I was gagged and restrained.

My muffled bursts of noise eventually caught the attention of one of the people in my home. They told me to shut up. The, leader of the operation came in. He wasn’t special or anything like in the movies. He didn’t look particularly mean either. He had a rather large nose and a pale skinny face. He had interesting glasses that made him look like a nerd. I had to hold back my laughter, remember how all of that usually turns out.

He stuttered to his “henchman” to un-gag me. They pulled the cloth out. I threw up a little in my mouth, it was a dirty sock. One of the men put it back on his foot. He was a fat man, and his shirt was very sweaty. I started to throw up more after I wondered how much sweat was on that sock. But, before anything came up, My bodily functions were interrupted by a nice smack to the face. My eyes teared up and I tried my best to hold it back.

“What the…” The leader said with disgust. “Is this even a man? He cries all the time. The men at the bar said they smelled a distinctive urine smell when they were talking to you…” He dropped the disgust in his voice and calmly said to his men, “Yeah, we got the right man”.


I burst into a fit of anger and yelled at him. “What did I do! Why are my wrists and arms tied up! Why are you making fun of me! Who are you! What is the matter with you! And, Why is that one so fat!”. I panted and was out of breath. The fat henchman yelled at me, citing that his bones were just big and there was nothing wrong with him. I whimpered and between sobs, managed to get “Stop yelling at me!” out.

The leader, or boss, whatever, finally spoke. “Nothing much, we’re just supposed to mess with you because those men at the bar you… Harassed. Aren’t too happy. So, yeah.” I was mad now, “That’s it!? That is so stupid!” I burst into anger now. “WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!” My fears left me and I broke the thin ropes surrounding my ankles and wrists.

They all stepped back, and I roared, “I will kill you all!” I got up and whipped the folding chair I was in at the fat one. He fell to the floor. I laughed and smiled deeply at my newfound strength. I guess anger is what made me less of a wimp. I then picked the leader up, and used him as a bat. I knocked all the other people out threw him through my window. He fell 20 or so stories. I lived high up in my apartment. I never got near those windows, always so scared. Acrophobia to the max.

I picked the rest of the men up and stole their guns. Threw them out the window too. I relaxed and fell asleep again. I woke to the sound of birds chirping, and the cool morning air caressing my face. My eyes were still closed and I smiled. Then, I realized that I never felt a breeze before in my apartment. I was WAY too scared to open up something at this height. I looked around and saw a gaping hole in my window.

I Freaked out and sobbed uncontrollably. At least for a few minutes, and when I gained enough courage to slowly inch myself towards that wall which was nothing but three panes of glass side by side, the center one being broken. I saw, on the ground, 5 Men. Dead. Bloody pools surrounding them and chunks of flesh, bone and such surrounding the splatter area.

Not to mention the police, lots of police. Yellow tape, the whole complex was surrounded. I wept and wept. And wept. I killed 5 men. 5. 5. 5. Repeating in my mind over and over. I My whole floor was wet after more than hour of tears falling off of my face. I then heard a knock at my door. Instinct made me back up trying to find a corner to hide in and ignore the raps. I ended up backing up into the open air. My arms quickly jerked forward and kept myself from falling, but not before being cut by the glass.

The pain made me barely able to hold on and I tried to use my legs and build momentum with my body like some kind of inch worm and fall back in the house. My feet slipped on the tear-wet floor and I fell back. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best. 20 story’s is 200 feet, 200 feet is a long distance. 60 miles an hour is a mile a minute, and if I used division, this fall would be 20 seconds if I maintained a speed of 60 Miles per hour. Probably not, my math never was good.


I was roused by a human voice. Seemingly human. But judging from the recent chain of events, I wouldn’t doubt it if it were otherwise. I tried to move, but was constricted. By a full body cast. My eyes were covered and my mouth and nose were the only parts of me left uncovered. The voice said. "Max. Max. Are you there. i groaned and tried to say “yes”. The person yelled. “He’s awake! 1 year of being in a coma! HE IS AWAKE!”. I wondered why after a year they hadn’t taken the cast off. Things heal faster than that, I thought.

The doctor said he had some bad news. They found 5 dead bodies near where I fell and they also had proof I killed them. As soon as I was out of the cast, he said, I would be put into police custody. I wanted to weep. But, I didn’t because I thought of how awesome I was. Dude I thought, I am so awesome. I just killed 5 bad guys, fell 200 feet and survived, and now I think I am less of a girl. I am so awesome. AKL would be happy, That was his dad.

2 months passed and he was out of his cast and out of rehab. His muscles worked again, and he worked out more than he should have, claiming to still not have function of his muscles in order to get strong and big. eventually they kicked him out, but he was AWESOME now. He went back to the same bar where the men were that started this whole ordeal.

They saw him and cackled, uproarious laughter. “O’ GOD! It’s the boy-o who tried to intimidate us! ’E was in the news! I ’eard about that! He fell and broke every bone in ’is-” He gurgled and made wet noises in his throat. His friends quit laughing. They looked and saw a fountain of blood gushing out of his throat.

“What’d you do to him!” One said. “That was the jugular. I just cut it. The same demise will be yours if you don’t, one, give me the information I need, and two, scram afterwards.” I yelled. The whole bar was looking. I looked around and saw a man on a pay-phone. He kept staring back at me. I got a cell phone cal after he hung up. He also left.

“Hello?”, I answered. “Yes, Max, the job is over, we no longer need the men dead. Go home, find some other job to cry about you wuss.” He demanded. “What?” I asked angrily and inquisitively. “Go home” The phone clicked. I put the phone away and demanded answers from the men. They told me obviously bogus information. I let them go. I had other business to take care of.


I went to the office of my unnamed employer and told him that nobody calls me names, or makes fun of me anymore. He laughed at me and told me that I was nothing but a fool. He only hired me to have me dead, killed at the place of the gang I was supposed to kill. I took a pen from his cup and he yelled at me. “What do you think you’re doing!” I took the pen and stabbed him in the leg. Don’t make fun of me.

FINE FINE! Just stop!” He exclaimed. I told him to give me a job and his wallet. He surrendered the wallet and said he was going to find me a job.


Now, I want feedback. I will make “PART II” if anyone actually likes this. Please, don’t go easy on it or anything. The whole truth please.

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My statement: Copy paste this into another website other than a forum on kongregate. This is a gaming website. my recommendation: DeviantART or Sheezyart.

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I already did. I want more than one website’s opinion. And this is off topic. That means you can post anything “off topic”. Crazy. I know.

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pretty gory, but well written.

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Thanks, it was gory per request of the friend.

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also, find someone to proofread it. It was well written, but there were a lot of spelling and grammar mistakes.

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Spelling mistakes! I had a computer check it, and three drafts! But grammar, probably.

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Well, maybe not spelling, but DEFINITELY grammar.

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Definitely? I would appreciate it if you pointed major instances out.

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I feel tempted to read it but theres no formatting and it just looks like a big text wall.

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There is formatting. I can give you a link to the other one if you want. It has better formatting on that forum. Here it is: . Formatting was kinda screwed up there too. And the post above isn’t a wall of text. A wall of text has no spacing at all. And if you want indentions, I can’t do that. Weird stuff will happen.

Like this. This is what happens when you indent.
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GAWD> Didn’t I just describe why that isn’t true? And there is a link now, so don’t not read it because of that. It’s just pure laziness now. I saw what you did, you have to make some quick remark so that you can have a whole line of your name on the right column.

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A wall of text is connected. Clearly, you see spaces. Learn your lingo.

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Well done Henry, Very enjoyable.

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Thank you! Certainly made my… Really early morning. (I must look like a fool replying to everything.)

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Whoa, that was epic. Make part II!

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Very good, Henry. Can’t wait for part II. When is part II coming out?

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Well, I had no plans for a “PART II” because I thought it sucked. But, I will make one. Thanks guys. And pertaining to the date it comes out… Soon.

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I didn’t yell at you. But it just seemed like you were spamming to up your post count or have your name on the right column. But, it’s fine with me if you just don’t want to read it. Although, I would’ve preferred you to not have said anything. And I hate to quote this…
bq. If you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all.