The Greatest Serial Killer in the Universe by Robert T. Jeschonek Page A
Authors: Robert T. Jeschonek
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he the first Earthling to kill an alien, but he was the first being to commit a murder on the planet Ectos. Every time he thought about it, he got a little kick of adrenaline and couldn ' t help smiling.
It was a great confidence builder for an aging serial killer whose best years had seemed long gone a long time ago. Now if he could just get the creatures to kill, he knew he would feel like a new man. A new murderer.
" C ' mon, " said Luther, heading down the street, waving for Boraf to follow. The porous orange surface under his feet pulsed like all the streets and walkways in the living maze of the city. " Let ' s find you some easy pickings, my friend. "
Boraf shuffled after him, its bulbs and tentacles rustling and slapping together as it moved. " Pickings? "
" We ' re not going home till you kill someone, " said Luther. " Get that through your head-bag. This is your big debut, and I ' m not letting you quit till you ' ve got something to brag about to your jellyfish friends. "
" Tried, " puffed Boraf. " No can kill. "
" Sure you can, " said Luther, smiling as if he had no doubt that the alien would come through. " Once you get that first one under your belt, you ' ll be fine. "
" Hope, " said Boraf. " Hope much. "
Luther patted the creature ' s head-bulb, then wiped the slime off his hand onto his coveralls. As unlikely as it seemed that the alien would overcome its nonviolent nature, Luther still believed that he could bring Boraf around. After all, Luther had had great results with worse wannabes in the past...though, granted, the wannabes had at least been human.
For the last decade or so, ever since his arthritis had gotten bad, Luther had made a living as a serial killer personal trainer. He had trained some of the biggest names of the new generation--Fabersham, Glottal Stop, Chuck Wagon, Father Scalp--and had managed to stay prominent in the serial killer community even though the arthritis had limited his actual body count. Plenty of the newbies had been incompetent at the start; even the great Spay Queen, believe it or not, had been squeamish around blood in the beginning. Once Luther had gotten done with them, however, not one of the newbies had averaged fewer than ten kills a year. Every one of his trainees had done him proud in the end.
Except, of course, for Lech Bomb, the one dark spot on Luther ' s sterling career. Even Bomb had his good points; no one could criticize his body count, certainly, for he had racked up a solid twenty-two kills in fourteen months. The problem was, Bomb ' s victims had all been serial killers, which hadn ' t exactly reflected positively on the man who ' d trained him. By the time Sweet Annis and the Unholy Ghost had put down Lech Bomb for good, Luther ' s rep had been blown to hell. Luther had even been booted out of the Serial Killers Guild...and he was a charter member, yet.
Lech Bomb had pretty much killed Luther ' s career, but Luther still didn ' t consider him a complete failure. If anything, he ' d been one of the greats, downright brilliant and deadly enough to track down and execute some of the most dangerous killers alive. Luther ' s confidence had taken a hit because he hadn ' t anticipated that Bomb would turn on his serial killing brethren...but Luther still believed that his stalled career could be revived.
Once he got the Ectozoids on the road to bloody mayhem, he could return to Earth and the Serial Killers Guild as a hero and a legend. And a wealthy son of a bitch, what with the fortune in precious metals and gems the aliens were paying him.
Excited and impatient at the thought of the rewards in store for him, Luther turned down another passageway...and stopped so suddenly that Boraf bumped into him from behind.
In the pulsing yellow tubeway, Luther saw a lone ' Zoid shuffling toward him from less than twenty yards away. There was no one else in sight, and there were no lights in any of the windows of the surrounding house-mounds.
" Time to lose
It was a great confidence builder for an aging serial killer whose best years had seemed long gone a long time ago. Now if he could just get the creatures to kill, he knew he would feel like a new man. A new murderer.
" C ' mon, " said Luther, heading down the street, waving for Boraf to follow. The porous orange surface under his feet pulsed like all the streets and walkways in the living maze of the city. " Let ' s find you some easy pickings, my friend. "
Boraf shuffled after him, its bulbs and tentacles rustling and slapping together as it moved. " Pickings? "
" We ' re not going home till you kill someone, " said Luther. " Get that through your head-bag. This is your big debut, and I ' m not letting you quit till you ' ve got something to brag about to your jellyfish friends. "
" Tried, " puffed Boraf. " No can kill. "
" Sure you can, " said Luther, smiling as if he had no doubt that the alien would come through. " Once you get that first one under your belt, you ' ll be fine. "
" Hope, " said Boraf. " Hope much. "
Luther patted the creature ' s head-bulb, then wiped the slime off his hand onto his coveralls. As unlikely as it seemed that the alien would overcome its nonviolent nature, Luther still believed that he could bring Boraf around. After all, Luther had had great results with worse wannabes in the past...though, granted, the wannabes had at least been human.
For the last decade or so, ever since his arthritis had gotten bad, Luther had made a living as a serial killer personal trainer. He had trained some of the biggest names of the new generation--Fabersham, Glottal Stop, Chuck Wagon, Father Scalp--and had managed to stay prominent in the serial killer community even though the arthritis had limited his actual body count. Plenty of the newbies had been incompetent at the start; even the great Spay Queen, believe it or not, had been squeamish around blood in the beginning. Once Luther had gotten done with them, however, not one of the newbies had averaged fewer than ten kills a year. Every one of his trainees had done him proud in the end.
Except, of course, for Lech Bomb, the one dark spot on Luther ' s sterling career. Even Bomb had his good points; no one could criticize his body count, certainly, for he had racked up a solid twenty-two kills in fourteen months. The problem was, Bomb ' s victims had all been serial killers, which hadn ' t exactly reflected positively on the man who ' d trained him. By the time Sweet Annis and the Unholy Ghost had put down Lech Bomb for good, Luther ' s rep had been blown to hell. Luther had even been booted out of the Serial Killers Guild...and he was a charter member, yet.
Lech Bomb had pretty much killed Luther ' s career, but Luther still didn ' t consider him a complete failure. If anything, he ' d been one of the greats, downright brilliant and deadly enough to track down and execute some of the most dangerous killers alive. Luther ' s confidence had taken a hit because he hadn ' t anticipated that Bomb would turn on his serial killing brethren...but Luther still believed that his stalled career could be revived.
Once he got the Ectozoids on the road to bloody mayhem, he could return to Earth and the Serial Killers Guild as a hero and a legend. And a wealthy son of a bitch, what with the fortune in precious metals and gems the aliens were paying him.
Excited and impatient at the thought of the rewards in store for him, Luther turned down another passageway...and stopped so suddenly that Boraf bumped into him from behind.
In the pulsing yellow tubeway, Luther saw a lone ' Zoid shuffling toward him from less than twenty yards away. There was no one else in sight, and there were no lights in any of the windows of the surrounding house-mounds.
" Time to lose
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