Corpse / Troped Chapter Two
"Ah, Cordney," snickered Patrick, turning his eyes and his weapon to the traditionally stunning blonde sitting in the corner. She was glamorous, true, but considering her situation, she seemed to transcend glamor. Her appearance seemed too powerful for even such an expensive and technologically advanced gun to destroy. "And you are?" she asked, more occupied by her present would-be assassin than her assassinated boyfriend. "It's a wonder they'd even sell a gun to a man like you, boy. Fate does not belong in the hands of someone like you." "What is that supposed to mean?" Patrick sighed at Cordney. "You're beautiful, you know that. I know lots of men who'd be satisfied with a woman as pretty as you... it's a shame, really... you don't deserve such a wonderful body just like you didn't deserve such a nebbish Woody Allenesque man for a beau... I met him a decade ago, if I remember correctly. Patrick Doorman, by the way." "Ah yes, Doorman! We never met, of course. Did you ever get published? Morris had told me that you were working on various pieces for dead-end zines." "Morris tells too many things to too many people, said Patrick, "and that's why I had to kill him, y'know? You're next, Cordney." "Obviously," chuckled Cordney. "Obviously, you don't know why I'm so calm, despite your little murder. Morris told me much more about you than your little Mickey Mouse zine. Patrick Doorman, you little flit, you haven't even been trope'd yet."