Grand Theft Planetary & Other Stories

There was a smash from behind the bar, and a few drunken patrons cheered in the expected manner. The barkeeper took a mock-bow, then fetched a dust-pan to clean up the shards. Simon took the top off the beer he was holding and scanned the bar once again, more out of habit than anything. Dark, leather-red, and almost unpleasantly crowded. Outside, orange street-lights were trying to illuminate the darkness. Simon had been in this room dozens of times, yet this was always the first. His gaze fell on a blond woman standing by a raised table, talking to a friend. She was definitely Simon’s type; big tits, tall, large full lips – a good night in.

He took a piece of paper and pen from his pocket and wrote “Hi gorgeous, fancy some fun?”, then jumped off his stool and handed it to her. She read it, and then slapped him hard. “Fuck off.” He sighed; always worth trying. The direct approach was like a cash-or-bust option. He restored.

There was a smash from behind the bar, and a few drunken patrons cheered in the expected manner. The barkeeper took a mock-bow, then fetched a dust-pan to clean up the shards. Simon jumped off his stool and wandered over to the blonde lady again. “Hi,” he said. “What’s your name?”

She surveyed him cautiously. “Fuck off,” she said at last, then continued her conversation with her friend. Ah, thought Simon, she’s one of those. Tough nuts needed the appropriate sledgehammer to crack.

There was a smash from behind the bar, and a few drunken patrons cheered in the expected manner. The barkeeper took a mock-bow, then fetched a dust-pan to clean up the shards. Simon jumped off his stool, knocked the blonde out with an upper-cut, and then snatched her handbag from the floor. Before anyone could react, he launched himself off a table and barrelled through the glass window, rolling as he hit the concrete. He sprinted across the road and into the alley opposite, scampered up the wall until he could grab hold of the fire escape above him, then ran up the metal steps until he was on the roof. He could hear screams and raised voices from the bar below, but he was safe for now. He upended the bag and sifted through the assortment of personal belongings; a small flowery diary, a stylish smartphone, bits of make-up, and other female “essentials”. Simon absorbed the contents of the phone and diary quickly, looking for clues to her personality, a way into her, anything he could use to get her into bed efficiently. Her wallet revealed that her name was Misty Kears, was single, a driver, 24, and nothing out of the ordinary. However, her text messages and social network updates revealed that she was an actress – well, an extra, only a couple of parts to her name, but she was extremely keen to remind everyone constantly about the fact that she was, technically, an actress. Hungry for attention, desperate to be important. Perfect.

A cop rose noisily from the fire exit and pointed his sidearm at the huddled Simon. “Lie down on your front, scumbag. You’re under arrest!”

Simon regarded the cop. He was a decent-looking sort, no doubt believing in justice and a world full of goodness, probably married to the prom queen and had a little girl that ran to hug him every day he got home from work. Sickening. Simon could cross the distance before the cop would know what was going on and kill him easily - and any other day, he probably would have. Instead, Simon was too preoccupied with bedding the blond, so restored instead.

There was a smash from behind the bar, and a few drunken patrons cheered in the expected manner. The barkeeper took a mock-bow, then fetched a dust-pan to clean up the shards. Simon slid off the plastic stool and stood a respectful distance from the blond and her friend until they stopped their conversation. “Can I help you?” sneered the blonde, looking him up and down.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” he said politely, “but haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”

“In your dreams maybe,” she replied, and turned her back on him.

“I thought you were an actress I saw when I was on set the other day. Oh well,” he made to leave, “I’m sorry to interrupt your evening.”

“Wait – you’re in showbusiness?” She spun around and grabbed his arm. Oh my god, he thought, this was going to be too easy.

“Yes I am. I’m a casting agent. Looking for fresh new talent, seeking out the stars of tomorrow, you know the sort of thing.” He gave her a look of mock interest. “Say, you look a lot like Misty Kears.”

“That’s me! I am Misty Kears!” She almost spilt her drink over her friend, who was now forgotten.

“You are? Oh my god!” He matched her enthusiasm. “I saw you in,” he visualised the information on her social network status page, “Hospital Ward 101. I must say, you were fabulous!”

“Oh thank you!” She turned to her friend, her ego totally out of control, stoked expertly by Simon. “Can you believe it?”

“Say,” said Simon, taking her arm and leading her away from her disgruntled friend, “how about we talk about a few roles I have coming up? There’s a club in town that would be better suited for a budding young superstar such as you. A few late drinks, rub elbows with other stars… What do you say?”

It had taken a modest amount of champagne and ego-feeding inside a dim-lit and trendy (read over-priced) club, but Simon eventually managed to persuade the dim-but-pretty Misty back to his flat. She was certainly keen to impress Simon, throwing herself into sexual congress with energy and enthusiasm. As he gripped her wide hips and thrust into her from behind, Simon couldn’t help but smile; she was simply doing this to improve her standing in the world. She thought that giving up her body was a short-cut to achieve her dreams of fame. It wasn’t, not just because Simon was a liar and had no more involvement with the film industry than the atomic energy sector, but because big achievements - solid milestones with life-changing results - could only be obtained through hard work, determination, and other words that scared off the weak-willed or those looking for a quick win. She could probably sleep her way so far up the chain, but there was a limit, a point where results counted rather than who she had in her mouth. At that point, she would be exposed, be ridiculed, and fall back to her station in life. Like everything obtained by trying to cheat the system of life, it was either temporary or at a crippling cost. Not like himself, he thought. The ability to save any point in his life so he could return to that moment at will? He’d achieved everything he’d wanted to, and now was playing out a life full of sex and adventure.

According to the calendar, he was thirty three years old, but he hated to think how many years he’d actually experienced. It must be over a hundred, maybe more. He’d quickly realised that all the people in the world were exploitable in some way, be it fame, fortune, importance – those were the typical three – sometimes lust, or even some darker desire. Not being subject to the normal cause and effect formula of his actions, Simon could try different things in order to unlock the key to manipulating any person. He’s had sex with thousands of girls, murdered hundreds of people - albeit temporarily - and had got whatever he wanted. Misty was simply another one who Simon was experiencing in this temporal reality that he’d soon destroy by returning to earlier that evening.

He turned Misty over and was surprised by the look of anger from her. Maybe she was more intelligent than Simon gave her credit for. Maybe she realised she was being used. “You OK?” He asked ask he entered her again.

“You’re not a casting agent, are you?” He looked at him, pure hate in her eyes. “You’re just using me for sex. It’s OK,” she raised her arms and turned her head away. “It’s my own fault. I get too carried away. Carry on, take what you need from me, then leave.”

Simon slowed, embarrassed that his intentions had been exposed. “If it’s any consolation,” he said, “you won’t remember any of this in the morning.” Had that sounded sinister?

Strangely, she nodded, then smiled. “OK. Just do it and make it quick.” She closed her eyes, then started to hum a tune to herself. Simon stopped; this didn’t feel right at all. He started to withdraw from her when she suddenly scrabbled up the bed and withdrew a handgun. Before Simon could react, he felt his chest explode with fire and pain as she pulled the trigger again and again and again. She was screaming something. He fell backwards, almost insane with shock; he was dead! She’d killed him! Help me! Help…

There was a smash from behind the bar, and a few drunken patrons cheered in the expected manner. The barkeeper took a mock-bow, then fetched a dust-pan to clean up the shards. Simon gasped , the panic still ebbing around his thoughts but, lacking the physical responses from his body, he calmed quickly. She’d murdered him! She hadn’t though, not really, not permanently. The crazy bitch! What if she’d shot him in the head? He had trained to be fast and agile, hundreds of years’ worth of training giving him the ability to take down most people in a fair fight, but Misty’s attack had been too sudden and unexpected. Well, maybe that had been a warning, fate telling him that he needed to stop pissing around. He mulled this over for a few minutes, then smiled. Bollocks to fate. He’d just have to be more careful, maybe appreciate that people were dangerous and didn’t take kindly to being manipulated. Maybe he could try being less-manipulative.

He looked at the plain girl sat next to him reading a book. He scribbled down a note and passed it to her without a word. She read it, then looked at Simon, her eyes magnified by the powerful glassed framing her sharp oval face.

“Yeah,” she said eventually with a smile, putting the book down. “OK then. Your place or mine?”