[ WP ] You are a retired assassin . The only thing you want is to die . Keeping you from this is the fulfillment of your last contract : A celebrated performer paid you to kill him if he ever tried to make a `` comeback '' as an old man . After years in retirement , the performer announces a world tour .

( First one ever. Just for fun. Been lurking here forever, did a stream of conscious thing. Hopefully it's a low level of suck. ) 
 
 The ice in the glass resembled clear marbles, floating in the bourbon they watered and chilled over the last 15 minutes. He took a small sip and grimaced. 
 
 `` Fuck.'' 
 
 He squinted through the glasses; the wrong prescription three prescriptions ago. The checks had stopped coming a while back and these government cuts were starting to take a pinch on his social security checks. The words came into something resembling focus. 
 
 ***One Last Time... Brent Marklove To Return To The Stage*** 
 
 `` Honest to FUCK!'' 
 
 One of the marbles jumped shipped and rolled onto the floor as he slammed down the glass. Spittle landing on his keyboard. 
 
 Marklove. The Canadian Crooner. The Toronto Titulator. The goddamn Quebec Queer, though only a few people knew that and now even less cared. His checks must be running low too. Only problem is, he knows. And worse, people who want him to let everyone else know also know about his penchant for doughy teens in football pants. So long as no one thought about him, the secret was safe. Now, the miserable queen is making people think of him; including Doc. 
 
 Doc had n't seen him in the flesh for 20 years, give or take. He had seen about half way through him back then, truth be told. Went in through his gut, found the hernia and patched it up. Really neat work, considering that he left a thing or two behind. But then again, Doc always did do neat work. 
 
 ***Press Conference Live at 4 PM from The Sands*** 
 
 4 PM, then. The least Doc could do was to give him one last show. 
 
 The keypad actually worked, though Doc had few doubts. Mostly he had hopes that it would n't. The machine came to life at 3:47 PM - all systems stop, as Doc used to joke. Joke had a bite worse than the drink now. 
 
 He did n't care enough any more. That's the secret, really. You need to care, at least a little bit. That young fuckhead... Coozik? Cosack? No, Cusack, yeah, the one with the ugly-but-still-kinda-hot sister. He did that movie. `` It's not personal.'' *Fuckhead. It's always personal. Even when it's been 20 years. * 
 
 3:49 PM 
 
 Marklove should n't have even known about it. The one time he actually talks with one of his boys, the kid has a mouth. Not even a good mouth, just a big one. So Marklove starts asking around. Blackmail. Career ends. Hernia. Doc. 
 
 3:54 PM 
 
 He can see them finishing up the stage on the feed. Couple of cameras for 30 second, end of broadcast shots. `` Human interest''. OK, Doc found that thought funny. 
 
 3:58 PM 
 
 Disinterested reporters are chatting in their seats. Doc looks at his panel. He could say it did n't work. He could tell them that it did n't boot up. Except the green light that says `` COMM LINK'' is blinking, so if anyone is still there, they'd know. `` They ai n't there anymore. No one cares.'' 
 
 `` Sorry, Doc, we're still here and we still care.'' 
 
 *Great*, Doc thought, remembering the communication linkage also made the mic hot. 
 
 `` You are doing us a great service. You will be compensated.'' 
 
 Doc rubbed his upper arm, gently. 
 
 `` Yeah, whatever.'' 
 
 4:01 PM 
 
 Showtime. Marklove is introduced. It's lovely this, time that, looking forward to whatever the fuck. Doc's finger hovered over `` EXECUTE''. Doc had thought the label was funny. He's not Kinison. 
 
 `` Please execute the program.'' 
 
 `` Give him a minute.'' 
 
 `` He has had an extra eleven and one half million minutes. Because you had asked.'' 
 
 Really, they had to do the math? *The man could sing, so sue me. * 
 
 `` Please execute.'' 
 
 `` Just do me a favor.'' 
 
 `` What.'' 
 
 `` Clean this place up after.'' 
 
 `` We will remove the equipment, yes.'' 
 
 `` Not. What. I. Mean.'' 
 
 Doc smiled for what seemed like the first time in years. He pressed the button. 
 
 Maybe he saw Marklove's face as his heart seized. Maybe he saw him start to drop. Or maybe his went off first... it had a shorter trip.
