Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > ACE OF SPADES
I checked the scene as I pulled into the empty alley that ran adjacent to the old hideout. There didn't seem to be any survillence, so I put the car in park, and got out to meet Andy.
"You should see this. I think we have a much bigger problem than we anticipated."
He looked at me with wide eyes and grimmaced his face with slight distaine. I stepped in through the plastic sheets that still hung from the cracked ceiling. I found myself face to face with a trophy unlike any other. Most killers, the good hitmen, the ones like my Ace, stay quiet and silent. They creep in and out with such stillness that you could swear it was the wind. But this, this was not silent. This was incriminating.
In the middle of the floor sat a single stool with only a single lamp to keep it company. The light lay vacant from the bulb, but to tell you the truth, it wasn't hard to make out the picture that I wanted to see. Behind the furniture, on the far wall of the factory, I made out a mosaic of pasted polaroid pictures, having to move closer just to discover that each picture held the last breath of the victim it was off. 20 maybe 30, remained taped on the wall, covering it with the story of a mind unable to control it's inner deamons.
"The bulb's still warm. He can't have left too long ago." Andy's voice broke my silence. He was closer to me now, his breath hovering in the chill that suddenly filled the room.
"This is unbelivable. Do you see the cards. He must be getting a little low in the deck by now, there has to be at least 25 bodies on this wall. How long-"
Wait! What was that? I heard something, a phone call, a yell, what was it?
"Andy, did you-?"
"Oh yeah, Boss. I heard it."
It came again. From the alley.
"STOP FUCKING WITH MY HEAD!"
"You should see this. I think we have a much bigger problem than we anticipated."
He looked at me with wide eyes and grimmaced his face with slight distaine. I stepped in through the plastic sheets that still hung from the cracked ceiling. I found myself face to face with a trophy unlike any other. Most killers, the good hitmen, the ones like my Ace, stay quiet and silent. They creep in and out with such stillness that you could swear it was the wind. But this, this was not silent. This was incriminating.
In the middle of the floor sat a single stool with only a single lamp to keep it company. The light lay vacant from the bulb, but to tell you the truth, it wasn't hard to make out the picture that I wanted to see. Behind the furniture, on the far wall of the factory, I made out a mosaic of pasted polaroid pictures, having to move closer just to discover that each picture held the last breath of the victim it was off. 20 maybe 30, remained taped on the wall, covering it with the story of a mind unable to control it's inner deamons.
"The bulb's still warm. He can't have left too long ago." Andy's voice broke my silence. He was closer to me now, his breath hovering in the chill that suddenly filled the room.
"This is unbelivable. Do you see the cards. He must be getting a little low in the deck by now, there has to be at least 25 bodies on this wall. How long-"
Wait! What was that? I heard something, a phone call, a yell, what was it?
"Andy, did you-?"
"Oh yeah, Boss. I heard it."
It came again. From the alley.
"STOP FUCKING WITH MY HEAD!"
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