Kiss Kiss, Murder Murder
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Stalking through the nighttime crowd, the killer's savage gaze remained fixed on his target, an auburn man bun bobbing along the sidewalk. Quincy had the murder all planned out. His target always spent 40 minutes in the microbrewery around the corner before walking to his apartment building on 10th Avenue and taking the elevator all the way up to the 28th floor. Twenty eight floors. That's over 300 feet, a long way to fall.

Quincy couldn't wait to see the blood splatter on the asphalt below after shoving that pretentious asshole over the ledge of his balcony. Turning the corner, he lurked while his target entered the brewery. Quincy grinned slyly, monitoring the area for an expected friend to meet him. "Damn it, bro. Late again?" He pulled out his phone and made a call. "Hey, what's up?" "Leonard! Where are you, bro? It's 9:35." "Oh shit, what's that thing tonight?"

"Yeah, it's Saturday," Quincy hissed into the phone, moving aside to let a drunken bachelorette party pass. "Are you almost here? My target's already in the bar."

Aw, shoot. Sorry, Quince. I can't make it tonight. I got a thing. What? I need you as my alibi, bro. We need to be seen together at the club. Then I can sneak off and kill the dude and hurry back. And if anyone asks, we say we were together the whole time. We planned it all out. Yeah, no. I know, man. It's just... I'm actually on a date right now. So? Can't you just kill the chick and get over here?

"Nah, Quincy, it's not like that, man. It's like a… like a real date. This girl is… dude, she's amazing. I haven't told you about her yet because, like, I thought you might be mad, but this is actually our fourth date and it's going really well. I think she might be the one, bro." Quincy straightened up and switched the phone to his other ear.

Leonard, what the fuck are you even talking about? You have a girlfriend? Well, we haven't put a label on it yet per se. Dude, I've told you that's never gonna work. We are serial killers, bro. And most women find that to be, like, a serious red flag. Yeah, but dude, that's the thing. My girl, she's a serial killer too. Legit. We met on SK date.

What the hell is SK Date? It's a new dating app exclusively for serial killers. There's... an app for that? There's an app for everything, bro. And I'll admit, I was kinda iffy about it at first. Seemed too good to be true. But I just kept getting these pop-up ads, you know the ones, "Meet horny skilfs in your area." Skilfs? Serial killers I'd like to... Oh, gotcha. Anyway...

"I know you should never click on those things, but in this case, I'm glad I did. Otherwise, I never would have met Crystal." "Your girlfriend's name is Crystal?" "Yeah. And do not make the mistake of calling her Crystal, or she gets really upset. She's killed like 20 people for that." Quincy cocked an eyebrow. "Your girl's a serial killer whose victims are the people who… mispronounce her name?"

My bad.

She decapitates the elderly. And obviously that sort of thing has never been my cup of tea, but I'm thinking of trying it out, you know? Might make a change. Quincy puffed up his cheeks and exhaled, trying to wrap his head around this shocking turn of events. Yeah, I don't know about this, Leonard. I mean, now this girl wants to change you? Ah, Quincy, you're not getting it, man. It's like I want to change for her. But you're fine the way you are, bro.

So, you and I, we're still like... alibi bros? Of course bro! I would've been caught years ago if not for your help!

Seriously, Leonard?

"Oh, you'd be surprised how many people leave in the middle. The seats are just like… there. And listen, bro, you know what you should do tonight? Sign up on SK Date. Who knows? Maybe the stars will align and you'll meet somebody special." "Maybe." "Okay, I really gotta run." Quincy stared at the phone in his hand, shaking his head in disbelief. A round of boisterous cheering erupted from the microbrewery.

He looked through the window at the herd of man buns congregating around a television, watching a European soccer game. So un-American. Waste of a Saturday night, he grumbled, shoving his phone into his jacket pocket and walking around the corner to sit on a park bench. He glanced around at the lights in the windows of restaurants and bars, and at the faces of the friend groups laughing on the sidewalk. It was all so horribly pleasant.

Even the weather was nice. Cool, breezy, clear sky. Perfect for throwing someone off a balcony. Quincy put his hands in his pockets and his fingers moved automatically to tighten around his phone. "Dammit, I'm gonna regret this," he grumbled, pulling out the phone and opening the app store. He tapped on the search icon. "Okay then, SK Date. It's really just right there. Oh wow, 4.7 stars. That's pretty good.

Sitting up, he downloaded the app and opened it. At first, the screen was black. Then a pair of pink cartoon hearts bounced into view and were skewered by an arrow, causing copious amounts of animated blood to gush out. Quincy rolled his eyes. "So, what do we got here? SK Date, where serial killing meets… serial monogamy? Eek, that's a terrible tagline." He glanced up at the brewery, then down at the phone again.

"Right. Allow app to track location? Sure. Access to photos? Why not. Sign up for a free 7-day trial of premium membership. Fine. I gotta remember to cancel that later. And... create profile. Do I use a fake name or..." He typed in Quincy. "Okay then. Photo verification. Please take a selfie from the front. Okie dokie." Quincy held out the phone, baring his teeth in an awkward smile.

"Let's see… oof, double chin. Oh well, okay. Now please take… come on, seriously. Please take a selfie with a recently murdered and/or mutilated corpse?" He looked around the street, hoping to spot someone drunk and alone. But as fate would have it, the door to the brewery opened at that moment, and his target walked out into the night. "Huh, he's leaving early. My original timeline wouldn't have worked anyway.

Grinning to himself, Quincy stood and walked off in pursuit. "Maybe the stars are aligned for something special tonight." Man Bun turned down an alleyway, and as Quincy followed him into the shadows, began to feel… impatient. He had been planning on climbing 28 stories of fire escape to reach the dude's apartment, then 28 more to come down and thus avoid the cameras at the entrance. But that would take a lot of effort.

And to be honest, Quincy's focus had kinda all shifted onto the SK date thing now. After all, that premium membership would only last seven days, so...

Let's do this, he said to himself, and he ran forward. The NBA playoffs are here, and I'm getting my bets in on FanDuel. Talk to me, Chuck GPT. What do you know? All sorts of interesting stuff. Even Charles Barkley's greatest fear. Hey, nobody needs to know that. New customers bet $5 to get 200 in bonus bets if you win. FanDuel, America's number one sportsbook.

21 plus and present in Illinois. Must be first online real money wager. $5 deposit required. Bonus issued is non-withdrawable bonus pass that expires seven days after receipt. Restrictions apply. See full terms at fanduel.com slash sportsbook. Gambling problem? Call 1-800-GAMBLER. His target was about to exit the alley onto a side street. Yo, wait a second. Quincy called out. Man Bun stepped out onto the sidewalk and turned, peering suspiciously back into the alley. Quincy reached him, panting a little.

"Just stop for a sec. Who the hell are you?" "Nobody, just uh…" Quincy glanced left and right at the street. It was quiet, empty. "Do I know you, man? Nah, I'm just doing a thing. Chill. Ooh, hear that? Motorbike coming. Sounds fast. That should work. So yeah, just stand right here for like five seconds." "What are you talking about? Is this supposed to be a mugging or something?"

"No dude, I'm not a mugger, God," said Quincy, watching as a motorbike driven by a teenage pizza delivery boy sped into view. "You shouldn't make assumptions like that. Ugh, sorry, I'm just confused 'cause and now!" Quincy lunged, driving his full weight against the man's chest and hurtling him backward through the air, over the curb and into the street.

The speeding motorbike struck Man Bun squarely in the face, punching his body into a wild twist so that his feet were pulled under the back wheel. The Man Bun was dragged 20 feet as the motorbike careened and crashed against a dumpster. Quincy approached, pulling out his phone. Bits of bike and human flesh and three large veggie pizzas were strewn across the blood-stained pavement. "Hey, that worked better than I thought!"

He knelt down next to the body, and grabbing his victim by his hair bun, he twisted the head to look up. The face was pretty much all gone. The jaw ripped off. The nose and cheek skin torn away. One eye was missing, and the other dangled on its optic nerve. Holding up the bloody head with one hand and the phone with the other, Quincy smiled and took the selfie. He let go of the bloody hair bun and stood, wiped his palm on his jacket, then headed back to the alley. He checked the screen.

Wow, approved already? That was quick. Coming out of the alley, he walked back to the park bench and sat, reviewing the profile setup info. Alright, I am a man, woman, other, prefer not to say. Nice that they're inclusive. Right, man. I am seeking a woman for casual dating, murder buddy, Netflix and kill, long-term commitment. I'll just click all.

Quincy spent another 30 minutes engrossed in the app, detailing exactly what he was looking for in a partner. Aged 25 to 45, within a 20 mile radius, no smokers, no moms, no cannibals, and filled out his own details and a short bio. Lastly, he went through his camera roll and uploaded a recent pic of him and Leonard after their bowling league had won second place.

He thought his eyes looked nice in that one. Though he made sure to crop out his alibi bro's handsome face, Leonard was a stone-cold fox. Once the profile was complete and active, he leaned back on the bench and perused the profiles of the skilfs in his area. "There's a lot," he muttered, scrolling through selfies of bright-eyed, blood-splattered women, smiling or pouting seductively at the camera. "This really is a violent city."

Almost half of the women had links to other socials in their bios. No doubt these killers were only on the app to get new subscribers to their gory fans. But the others seemed legitimate, and as he scrolled, one profile caught his attention. He cocked his head, gazing into the hazel eyes of a stunning woman with dark hair and a sculpted pixie cut, and a mischievous half-smile. Piper, 39.3 miles away. Hmm.

"Why not? It's not like anything will come of it anyway." He slashed his thumb across the throat of the woman's image, as the app instructed, then immediately felt silly. "What am I doing?" Standing, he put away his phone and marched up the sidewalk, past the brewery, back toward his basement apartment. But he had only walked for two minutes when the phone buzzed in his pocket, and when he pulled it out, he saw a surprising notification on the lock screen.

SK date. You have a match. Why not message them now? They might end up being your soulless mate. Kissy face emoji, heart emoji, skull emoji. Well, damn. Here goes nothing. And experiencing a wave of nervous elation, Quincy opened the app and typed out a greeting. 45 minutes and about 100 cheeky messages later, Quincy brushed aside his bangs with his fingers as he approached a bar called The Pink Rabbit on 12th Avenue.

Chatting with this Piper woman had felt so easy, natural, fun. And she had asked to meet up for drinks. This all felt unreal. He half expected to find some overweight dude in his 70s waiting for him. But as he entered the trendy little bar, he spotted the raven-haired beauty sipping white wine at a corner table. She waved to him. Oh my god. Okay.

"Hey, hey, it's uh, awesome to meet you in person," Quincy stammered, walking over to her corner and standing next to the table. "Evening, find the place okay?" "Uh huh, yeah, and do you wanna sit maybe?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "Oh, right." He sat and scooted in his chair,

"Sorry, I'm a bit nervous. I've never actually dated another serial killer before, so..." "Hey! Welcome to the Pink Rabbit!" called the waitress from behind Quincy, causing him to jump. "Can I get one of our sexy signature cocktails started for you?" "Uh, uh, sure, um..." Quincy grabbed the drinks menu off the table and read out the first thing his eyes landed on. "One... Monkey Business, please."

"Ooh, that one has banana and coconut. Fab choice." The waitress turned and pranced away to the bar, and Quincy noticed Piper watching the other woman's movements. She set down her glass and leaned forward, her smiling eyes still on the bar. "So, Quincy, how would you kill her?" "Beg pardon?" "The waitress. How would you murder her?" "Oh, uh, yeah, I don't know." "She has really nice skin. I think I would skin her alive."

"Oh wow, geez, that takes a lot of skill I imagine. Is that how you usually do it or-" Piper shrugged. "If I told you all my secrets now, half the fun of the evening would be gone." "Good point." He tapped his fingers nervously on the table, then cleared his throat. "Actually, I have kind of a signature style myself, so if I told you my technique, you might guess who I am." "Oh really?" "Well, maybe. I'm not like, anybody special."

Yeah, I do okay. Anyway, that waitress isn't really my type. I typically go after like tech bros. You know the ones. Skin tight jeans, mindfulness retreats, frisbee golf, that sort of vibe. Hmm. So, SK Date. I've actually been thinking of deleting the app. But then tonight...

She sighed, and picking up her glass, swirled the wine. I had a whole plan to kill this one family, but then my alibi partner canceled on me last minute. So I was feeling bummed out, and I checked the app, and there you were. No shit, said Quincy, smiling now. Same thing happened to me tonight. Wow. Well, I'm honored that you slit my profile's throat. You probably get a lot of attention on that app. You have no idea. She groaned.

The amount of dismembered dick pics I get in a day is... shocking.

And even the guys that are polite are just so... blah. I mean, I can only scroll through so many profile pics of some guy in flannel holding up a severed head before they all just blend together. And the bios? So unoriginal. Under special interests, most guys will just put like, "coffee" and "indie bands" and "multiple homicide." It's like, duh! Those things aren't special! Quincy nodded sympathetically.

She shook her head. Quincy shook his head.

"Damn, that's like deceptive AF, Piper. I'm sorry that happened to you. The app should do a better job of filtering out those phonies." "I know, right? Thank you for saying that." She smiled at him, then nodded over his shoulder. "Here comes your monkey business." Quincy thanked the waitress as she set down an elaborate, colorful cocktail.

He was just raising it to his lips when Piper asked, "So when was your last love connection?" Quincy choked and spluttered on the drink. "Oh Jesus, fuck that's sweet." Wiping his chin and setting down the glass, he said, "Sorry, um, well, it's been a while actually. In fact, I haven't gone on a date since. The truth is, Piper, I used to be married." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, we were young. Too young, probably. But we were happy.

a little while then i guess we just grew apart i don't know maybe it was my fault i guess i wasn't really present you know because i was always off murdering a bunch of people anyway the end of that relationship was messy that must have been hard she said and reaching across the table she set her fingers lightly on the back of his hand quincy swallowed did the cops ever find her body

Not messy like that. I didn't push my wife off a cliff or anything. She just left me for a guy in her pottery class. Yeah, they live up in Seattle now. She leaned back, retracting her hand, and stared at him quizzically for a few seconds. Quincy felt himself blushing and went for another sip of monkey business. So, you are the Portland Pusher. And for the second time, he choked on his drink. Why would you think that? He spluttered.

"Relax, Quincy. I just put the hints together. You're the killer who pushes businessmen off of roofs and bridges and stuff. That's... kinda cool, I guess." She downed the last of the wine. "Kinda cool? I'll take it. Say, want me to order you another glass?" "No thanks. So, how old were you when you did your first-" "My first murder? I would've been..." "Twenty-one, let me guess. Pushed someone in front of a city bus."

He smirked. "Hey, I'm more creative than that, but you're close. I actually pushed a dude off an overpass onto some train tracks just before the train came. Huh, interesting. Like a real-life trolley problem. Hmm, I guess. If the moral dilemma in question was to murder or not to murder." She chuckled. "I was 12." "As in 12 when you did your first murder? Whoa, that's crazy. Did you get caught?"

He put his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands, squinting at her.

"Not the Bucks and Bloodhound. They didn't start till 2010." "Satan's protege?" "Nah." "Maybe the Oregon Trail organ burglar? Or did they already catch that guy? I'm gonna figure it out." She grinned. "Well, if you do, maybe I'll consider going on a second date." Quincy nodded. "I'll take that challenge." She crossed her arms. "So, what would the Portland pusher be doing right now if I hadn't answered his message tonight?" "Hmm. Well, definitely something sexy."

"Do tell." He sat back in his chair. "Probably smoke a little grass, then draw a really hot bubble bath, then play some Mario Kart." "Mario Kart? In the bath? Yeah. Sexy, right?" "Depends. Who's your character?" "Yoshi. But the black variant." Her mouth fell open. "You're kidding me! Really? Black Yoshi is my character! Always! No shit!" beamed Quincy.

He had felt increasingly relaxed as the date progressed, and was now confident enough to lean forward and say, "You know, Piper, if that was a love connection test, I think we just passed with flying colors. I mean, how many men could you find in this city that both share your affinity for gruesome murder and play Mario Kart as Black Yoshi? Not a lot." She locked eyes with him across the table. "You wanna get outta here?" Quincy felt his breath catch in his throat. "Outta here, outta here?"

She nodded. "Fuck yeah." Piper's face broke into a wicked grin. Then she blinked and the smile vanished. "Oh wait, shit. Did you think I meant for sex? Because I meant to go find somebody to kill together." "Oh yeah, no no no, yeah, no, of course. That's totally what I was thinking, yeah. Not the, uh, other thing." Quincy stood, his chair legs squeaking against the floor. "I'll just, uh, pay for the drinks."

Back in the night air, they walked side by side along the street, Quincy's hands in his jacket pockets, Piper's head panning left and right to appraise each person they passed. "So when you pick a victim, it's like… random?" "No, it's more of a gut instinct kind of thing." "Okay, what about him?" "The goth dude with glasses and a top hat? No way, wouldn't do anything for me." "Okay, how about those three ladies across the street? They look pretty killable."

or is three at once too much for you?" She shot Quincy a devious look, then, glancing up the street at a man seated sideways on a parked Harley-Davidson. She slowed and tilted her head. "Wait, that dude?" gushed Quincy. "He's like seven feet tall and a thousand pounds of tattooed muscle, and I'm pretty sure he's in the middle of a heated argument. With himself! That dude's crazy!"

"Huh? Oh, no, that's not what I was thinking." She came to a stop, staring at the biker with a look of curious sadness in her eyes. "I could kill him if I wanted to, but I don't. I was just thinking about what his life story must be like. Do you ever think of things like that, Quincy? About how someone ends up like that?" Quincy furrowed his brow. "Uh, I don't know. He's probably just a psycho."

"No, that's not it." She turned to look at Quincy, her beautiful face a mask of thoughtful concern. "That man used to be a little baby, innocent and pure. But then something happened, something that… changed him. Do you know what that was?" "Drugs?" "No. The people who were supposed to be there for him, to love him, they let him down. They hurt him, hurt him so badly that the only way his heart could find to protect itself was to turn him into a monster."

he learned to scare off anyone that came near him so that no one will ever love him again and therefore no one can ever hurt him again do you see quincy turned and looked with her at the tattooed biker wow i think i do i never thought about it that way before he looked back at her you are a remarkable person piper

She gasped excitedly, turning and following a family. "I mean, who takes their infant twins on a walk at midnight? Geez!" Quincy hurried to keep up. "Or, oh yeah!" She snatched his elbow and nodded across the street.

Quincy turned and looked with her at a gentleman in his mid-fifties, dressed in colorful sneakers, skinny jeans, and a faded denim jacket. He had a salt-and-pepper beard, expertly trimmed, and atop his shiny head, his thinning hair was pulled up into a man bun. "Oh yeah," Quincy repeated, a twinkle in his eyes. He felt Piper's hand slide down his forearm and across his palm. Then she interlocked her fingers with his. "Come on."

They jogged across the street and fell into step 50 feet behind the new target, heading east. They walked hand in hand for 20 minutes, and as they followed the target, they tested each other with made-up love connection questions. "Favorite Christmas movie?"

Easy. The Muppet Christmas Carol. You? Same! Again! I keep telling you, Piper, we are soulmates! Okay then, if you could go back in time and join any serial killer in history for a dinner party, who would it be? Ooh, tricky. Well, I've actually always kind of had a, like, crush on this person. And it's a little niche, but Elizabeth Bathory...

No fucking way, laughed Piper. I was literally going to say the blood countess of 17th century Hungary. Unbelievable. Well, yeah. I mean, she killed like 650 girls and bathed in their blood. It's like the hottest story ever. I know. Hey! The couple looked up at their target, who had just turned to shout at them.

They had passed onto a quiet, tree-lined residential street and were standing outside an expensive, three-story brick home. "You two," the man said, pointing at them with the house keys in his hand. "Are being so loud." Quincy and Piper looked at each other, then back to the Target. "And?" asked Piper. The man made an irritated noise in his throat, turned, and walked up the steps to the porch of the brick house and unlocked the front door.

Once the door was shut behind him, Piper released an exasperated sigh. "What a dick!" "Seriously. I mean, I wanted to kill him before, but now I, like, want to kill him harder." She glanced up at the house. "Okay then, Portland pusher. How would you break into this place?" Quincy stroked his chin and surveyed the scene.

Well, I could pick the lock. But any fool could do that, so? I think I would jump from the Tesla in the driveway up to that tree branch, scurry up the tree, jump and catch a hold of that gutter, and climb through the open window on the top floor. Bullshit! You could do that? Oh, hell yeah! I can parkour the shit out of break-ins. I'm like a gymnastics squirrel, man. Uh-huh. Hot. Well, how would you do it? She looked up at the front porch.

I could pick the locks, obviously. Or I could hack into the security system and cut all the power to the place. Ooh, that's cool. Or... She turned and batted her eyelashes at him. I could tap on the front door and get him to invite me inside. That works? Oh, of course it does. He nudged her playfully with his shoulder. I'd let you in. She turned back to the house. How about this? Whoever breaks in first and reaches the target, they get to kill him.

"Ooh, another challenge. I love it. When do you want to start?" Smiling gleefully, Piper dropped his hand and sprinted for the front steps. "Hey, cheater!" laughed Quincy, running after her. Then turning and leaping onto the back of the Tesla, he sprang up and caught hold of a tree branch. "Come on, man, you got this!" He hurried up the tree, feeling like an excited kid again.

He couldn't see what Piper was up to below, but took a deep breath and vaulted into the air. His hands caught the gutter and his sneakers kicked against the brick wall. Moving fast, he clambered up, swung over to grab a third-story windowsill, and pulled himself up through the open window.

He landed with a thud in a dark, carpeted room. Shaking himself, he rose and stumbled forward with his arms out. His shin banged against a low table, but he soon found a door and threw it open. Giggling with adrenaline, he ran into a dim hallway and started down the stairs. As he came to the ground floor, he saw the target, wide-eyed and holding a wooden baseball bat, marching toward the stairs to meet the loud intruder.

Quincy readied himself to fight, grinning madly. But then he saw Piper walk casually up behind the target and whistle for his attention. The man turned his head, and Piper darted forward, wrenched the bat from his hands and, with a devilishly sexy grunt, swung it hard into the man's face. The bat snapped. The body hit the floor. Quincy came to a stop on the bottom stair. His hands balled into fists at his sides. "Dammit! So close! But you won fair and square!"

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Sign up for your $1 per month trial at shopify.com/specialoffer. Help me get him into a chair. I'm trying to think of how I want to do it. Quincy stepped over the man, who was moaning and bleeding from his flattened nose, and pulled a chair from the dining room into the kitchen, where Piper was going through the drawers, setting out a roll of duct tape, a dish towel, and assorted knives. Bending to grab the guy under the shoulders, Quincy grunted and dragged him toward the chair.

"Hey, I got another compatibility test," he said, forcing the moaning man up. "Go for it?" said Piper, tearing off strips of duct tape and attaching the man's wrists to the chair arms. Quincy straightened up, one hand pushed against a sore spot in his lower back. "Favorite Star Wars movie, oh." Piper crouched and taped the man's ankles. "I'm not sure you'll like my answer on this one."

Why? You don't like Star Wars? Standing, she grabbed the dish towel off the counter. No, I do. It's just my answer is a bit controversial. The man in the chair opened his eyes and coughed. Blood from his broken nose had streamed into his mouth. Wait, please. I have a... He groaned weakly. Piper rolled up the towel and shoved it deep into his mouth. He protested, moaning through the gag and rocking back and forth. Controversial.

"No," asked Quincy, watching as she picked up two short paring knives from the countertop. "Don't tell me you're a Last Jedi apologist." "What? Fuck no," she declared, walking back to the victim. "I'm not a monster." And she thrust out both hands to stab the knives into the man's eyes. He screamed through the gag and convulsed so roughly that the chair almost fell.

Quincy stepped forward and put a foot on the chair to hold it down. The knives remained in place in his eyes as Piper walked back to the counter. Blood and vitreous eyeball goop dribbled down over the guy's cheeks and into his beard. "So, which is your favorite? I won't judge." Piper grabbed a steak knife next. "I'll tell you, but remember, I'm not saying that this is the best, just my favorite."

Nostalgia plays a role in that, no doubt. But I can also make the argument that it's chock full of characters and moments that are criminally underrated. I'm listening. She walked over and stood next to the chair, her arms crossed. It's the Phantom Menace. Quincy bit his tongue to keep from smiling. Seriously? You said you wouldn't judge. I'm not. Rolling her eyes, she turned and began carving off the man's left ear.

Hear me out. First off, it's the only one with Qui-Gon Jinn. Incredible character, brilliant performance. Really expanded on what a Jedi could be, you know? Okay, I'm with you so far. She turned, holding the bloody knife in one hand and the severed ear in the other. Then there's Darth Maul. Iconic villain design. Second only to Vader, in my opinion. And such a legacy despite his limited screen time.

Quincy nodded. "I mean, Ray Park is pretty dope. And I don't care what people say about the pod race. I think it's breathtaking. Especially the sound design. Have you heard that shit on a real sound system? Blows your mind. Same with the lightsaber fight at the end." "Mm-hmm," agreed Quincy, though he was getting distracted as the bleeding dude in the chair pushed much of the dish towel out of his mouth and now spat it out onto his lap.

"Oh God, please!" He wailed, spitting blood with each consonant. "Please, listen to me!" He wiped his head from side to side, the knife handles in his eyes aiming left and right. "I have a daughter. Her name is Amber. She's 24 and she has stage 3 ovarian cancer. She's in the cancer ward right now over in Providence. You don't understand. Her mom's gone.

I'm all she has. She hates me. Please don't do this. Please. Dude, said Quincy staring down at him. Are you being serious right now? Yes. Yes. I would never lie about this. No. I mean, are you seriously just going to interrupt her like that? I mean, you still have one ear. You can hear that she's speaking, right? And you just, the nerve of some people.

Leaning down, he grabbed the bloody dish towel and reinserted it into the man's mouth while he screamed. Oh, God. Taking a deep breath, Quincy shook his head. Wow, I'm really sorry about that, Piper. Please go on. You were talking about the end duel? Yeah, she said, taking a moment to refocus.

She grabbed three more knives from the counter and carried them in her left hand to stand behind the chair. "Well, I think the finale lightsaber duel in episode one is still the strongest in the whole franchise," she said, moving one knife into her right hand and stabbing it down at the top corner of the man's skull, just in front of his hair bun. It sunk in up to the handle. The man released a muted shriek that devolved into an animal groan. "And the musical score in that fight? Perfection!"

Quincy nodded. I'm with you there. Duel of the Fates is like the greatest track in like any movie soundtrack. Like ever. Exactly! She swung down knife number two, stabbing it into the top right side of the skull. Then knife number three on the left side. The effect was sort of a gruesome crown of knife handles sticking up from the bloody scalp.

As Piper walked around the chair toward Quincy, the man gave a final shudder. Then his head tilted back and he went still, blood pouring down to soak the shoulders of his denim jacket. "Well, Empire is still my favorite, but you make some good points. I'll have to give Phantom Menace another rewatch." She walked up beside him, turned, and they both stared at the corpse sitting in the chair. "He looks pretty cool," said Quincy. "It's got sort of a 'Statue of Liberty' thing. Is that what you were going for?"

Piper shrugged. "I just improvise, and I never kill the same way twice." "Gotcha. So how do you want to dispose of the body?" "We could go 50/50 if you want. You take the legs, I'll do the rest." "Well, if we're going halfsies, I find it better to just cut below the ribcage and break the spine above the L2. But honestly, Quincy, and please don't take this the wrong way, body disposal is sort of my… specialty. I'm really good at it, and I prefer to do it alone.

"Is that okay, or..." He grinned at her. "What?" He counted off on his fingers as he said, "You've been active for 27 years, go for a wide variety of victims, and you're an expert at making bodies disappear. I know who you are." He leaned in and whispered, "You're the Fix-It Vanisher." When he backed away again, she stared at him stonily for a few seconds, then her lips cracked into a smile.

Victory. Bro, this is wild. You're the stuff of legends, Piper. Anytime anybody goes missing in the Northwest, somebody throws your name out and half of the people don't even think you exist. You've got your own subreddit and it's like super active. He stepped up to her and slid his hands around her waist. So? I guessed it. Does that mean I get that second date? She averted her eyes and sighed. Well, about that.

Maybe we should talk outside. Oh, said Quincy, pulling back his hands, the smile vanishing from his face. Okay. She led the way from the bloody kitchen to the front hall and out onto the porch. The night was cool and quiet. Breeze shook the branches and stars twinkled overhead. Piper stood at the top of the stairs, looking up at the night sky. Listen, Quincy.

hanging out with you tonight. It was really fun, truly. This has been the best night I've had in a while. Yeah, me too," said Quincy, stepping up beside her. "But," she went on, turning to face him, "I don't think we should see each other again." Quincy felt like someone had plunged an icy dagger into his heart. "But I feel like we're, I don't know, compatible." She reached to take his hand and squeezed it. "We are, that's the trouble.

We'd fall for each other, hard. And when it came to an end, which it inevitably would, we'd go crazy. You'd try to kill me or I'd try to kill you, or we'd massacre each other's friends and family. It would be a whole thing. You know it would." Quincy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, let it out. "Yeah, you're probably right. So let's appreciate this for what it was. One perfect night." He nodded sadly.

then brought his eyes up to hers. She darted forward, reaching up on tiptoe, and kissed him. After a few seconds, she backed away. "You know, when you came at me just then, I kinda thought you were gonna kill me." She chuckled. "Oh, Quince, if I ever decide to kill you, you will not see me coming. I believe it." Turning, she walked back to the open front door, pausing to look back at him one last time.

"See you around the cemetery, Portland pusher." And with a wink, she closed the door. Quincy sighed, slid his hands into his pockets, and walked down the stairs. As he turned and headed back toward the city center, his phone rang in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw the caller's name and answered.

Leonard, hey. I'm glad you called, man. And before you say anything, I gotta apologize for being a dick earlier. I was totally wrong about the dating app and... Fuck the app, bro! Fuck dating! Fuck romance! Fuck it all! I'm done! I am done, bro! Whoa, Leonard, chill. Did something happen? Did you guys not get seats at Hamilton? Nah, the show was dope. It's not that. It's...

It's Kristal. She's not my girlfriend anymore. Ah, shit, man. I'm so sorry. You guys broke up? Nah, she tried to cut my head off, so I shot her. Oof, that blows, man. Do you need me to start thinking of an alibi? I mean, yeah, man, if you don't mind. Of course not. So, like, alibi bros for life? Quincy grinned, marching down the sidewalk toward the city skyline.

Hell yeah, man. Alibi bros for life.