Checking Out by Oliver Pink

Beep Beep Beep

Wolfe lay listening to the sound of the machine in the darkness. He could see only a little way in front of himself clearly, despite the blue light leaking in through the window. Even the readut on the screen was fuzzy and out of focus...

The tubes protruding from his veins itched madly but he didn't have the strength to scratch at them with his grunge filled nails, so he remained awake, trying to distract himself with the constant sound of the bleeping. He tilted his wrinkled face and squinted at the glowing clock on the wall.

1:03 AM

He closed his eyes trying to sleep... trying to get some respite... but it wasn't to be.

Tap Tap Tap Tap

The footsteps stopped outside his door and he felt a shiver run down his spine...

The door creaked open, a white labcoat sihlouetted in the doorway, the bright light momentarily startling Wolfe's eyes. After a moment the door closed... Wolfe was not alone.

"Doctor?"

"Of sorts." Came the monotone reply, and Wolfe closed his eyes and let out a sigh, his muscles relaxing slightly.

"I'm glad you could make it in time... I didn't think I had much longer."

The man stepped forwards into the faint moonlight, and the shining light reflected off the mans bald head, his eyes hidden in pits of shadow.

"What can I do for you Mr Wolfe... are you not comfortable?"

Wolfe smiled briefly and coughed, the pain wrenching his chest as he drew in breath slowly.

"I couldn't me more comfortable... I hate it. I hate this fate... this existance."

"You're living and breathing. Your infection is gone. You are on the mend."

"It's not what I want... how long am I going to last after I leave this place? My profession is lost to me... I cannot continue in this state. I shall rot like a vegetable in some home, forgotten by all... I can't allow that to happen." Wolfe's dim blue eyes gazed out the window, at the sliver of the moon visible beyond the treeline outside the hospital.

"All my life, all I've ever wanted was to be known in the world... I spent every moment I had trying to become famous, to make it to the front page... And at every turn I met dissapointment and failure... and just when I thought I might have a chance, it was stolen away from me... My whole life has gone to waste, and I am afraid that when I die, mine will be an empty funeral. Do you know how that feels? To fail so badly..."

The man said nothing, just stood listening patiently.

"No... I don't suppose you do. Fourty Seven, you are the greatest in your field. One of the unnamed heroes that continue to serve the community day after day, tirelessly fighting against the odds to make things right... And I have one last favour to ask of you."

"Mr Wolfe... you know I can't do that. I don't do favours..."

"I know fourty seven, I know... Perhaps favour was a bad word to use. In my briefcase you will find my wallet and all my personal details... all you need to access my bank account is the password, CheckingOut.  All that I have left is yours if you do this thing for me..."

Fourty Seven turned and glanced down at the briefcase before turning back to Wolfe.

"What do you wan't me to do?"

"What you do best... I want you to heal me. I want you to ensure I don't wind up alone and rotting away in solitude, another unknown member of society... Fourty Seven, I want to take my final chance at fame. I want to make it to the front page, I want to be big news... and you can make that happen Fourty Seven, you can make that happen."

Fourty Seven seated himself on Wolfe's bed, his labcoat parting to reveal a black tuxedo beneath, his black gloved hands twined together.

"I must confess, I've never been made a request quite like that Mr Wolfe. But considering that you really do have nothing left to lose, I will help you..."

"Thank you Fourty Seven... you are a good man, despite what people say about you... Always remember that."

"I will Mr Wolfe. I will." The monotone hadn't changed, though the face that delivered it had softened slightly. Fourty Seven raised himself and reached into the pocket of his labcoat, producing from it a small metal tool. He checked it briefly and turned to Mr Wolfe, showing him the instrument.

"This is the tool I shall be using for this... operation. Are you ready Mr Wolfe?"

Wolfe looked around the dingy white hospital room... at the bald man standing before him... and out at the moonlight shining down on him.

"Yes."

****************************************************************

BREAKING NEWS! Victor Wolfe Assassinated in his Hospital Bed!

Still No Clue as to Identity of Killer!

Hospital Staff still have not been able to locate any security footage from the night in question, when one of their patients tragically met his end at the hands of an unknown killer. The lack of witnessess and footage is making investigation by the police almost impossible. Cause of death has been revealed to be a shot to the heart by a small handgun, most likely a Beretta. The fact that no shots were heard by staff indicates the use of a silencer, which suggests this was a professional hit. Some skeptics beleive it was the work of the legendary Hitman, Agent Fourty Seven, though the captain of the local police force stated earlier that "Urban Legends aren't solid evidence".

Mr Wolfe was a man who spent his life working outside the public eye, and delving back into his past records shows a life well used. Though never formally acknowledged by any media organisation, neighbours and co-workers of Wolfe have revealed a great amount of affection for a man they described as a 'Genuine good soul.' None have been able to shed any light on the case of his murder, and one neighbour stated plainly that they couldn't beleive anyone could ever have wanted him dead.

His funeral will be held tommorow morning at Deckler beach, as per the instructions on his will. Already hundreds have flocked to the town of Deckler to pay their respects for one of the silent heroes that go un-noticed every day.

Farewell Victor Wolfe, may you rest in peace.