That and more.
Assignment 4
Dr. R: “I’d like to introduce out next project…”

I step into St. John’s Church of the Holy Trinity. The service is only just starting. I see her sitting on a row near the middle of the left side in the end seat. I walk up, smile politely, and she scoots over to make room for me.
“Thanks,” I murmur in an undertone.
She flashes me a bright smile.

She’s a girl from class. Eighteen years old. I can see in her eyes that she thinks I’m attractive. Her posture changes, too. She sits up straighter and a few times every minute she I see her steal a glance my way.

She’s still a little uncomfortable, so in undertones I introduce myself.
“My name’s Kendra,” she replies in a barely audible whisper. “Nice to meet you.”
The service continues. Songs are sung, and I listen to her soft, angelic voice next to me. I find myself wishing that I could hear her lovely voice scream out her final moments. But, unfortunately, that would conflict with the assignment.

Dr. R had presented the topic of the next homework assignment in class the day before. He described a crime he had investigated as a detective with the police department. A woman had been stabbed and eviscerated on a public city street at noon. There were no witnesses. Eventually the man was caught from an image captured by an ATM’s security camera. “For how difficult it is to kill someone in public without drawing attention to yourself, it happens a lot more than you would think,” He had said.

Now I’m sitting next to my target in a crowded church on Sunday morning. Her light brown hair is pulled back in a braid behind her ears. She is wearing a sky blue dress and a cream colored cardigan. The dress shows off her well-developed breasts. It cut off mid-thigh, revealing thin, tanned legs. Her hazel eyes catch mine and she quickly glances away with a shy smile. I find myself smiling, too. Her combination of her coyness and beauty is rare in girls her age, and I can’t help but find it attractive.

The service is drawing to a close, and I can feel the adrenaline pumping into my bloodstream.

The minister stepped down from the stage and asked everyone to bow their heads and close their eyes. “This is now a time of invitation. Come forward to pray with me, others, or by yourselves.” A few individuals stepped out into the aisle, but most, including Kendra stay seated.

This is the moment I have been waiting for. The young girl next to me is seconds away from discovering whether or not the afterlife she believes in is real. Her head is facing down toward her folded hands in her lap. Her eyes are closed and breathing is slow and steady. My right hand slides into my pocket and grips the wooden handle of the cheap ice pick. I had bought with cash earlier tonight.

The music continues and I steal a glance around. Everyone in the vicinity has their head down. I prepare myself for potential fallout. If anyone catches me in the act I am unsure how everything will go down. This is not the time to falter though. My opportunity will pass any moment.

I slip my arm casually around her and pull the ice pick from my pocket. She looks up at me for a second with an expression of surprise. In that moment I realize something: everything about this girl has captivated me. The next second I’m gripping her by the back of the neck, forcing her head down. As her head drops below the level of the pews, I plunge the short metal spike of the ice pick into her temple as quietly as I can.

She goes stiff. A wet spot of urine appears on the wooden pew in the narrow gap between her legs. I work the pick around, scrambling her brains for good measure, until the twitching in her muscles stop. Then, I remove the ice pick and wipe away the droplet of blood that appeared in the hole it left. I pull her back up to a sitting position and let her chin rest against her chest. A thin line of saliva drips from the pink lips onto her left breast. She appears more or less to be sleeping.

I take it in for a moment. The music plays on. People around me are in silent meditation and the last woman praying with the minister is returning to her seat. I stand up, step into the aisle, and walk calmly to the back doors. Two ushers open the doors for me and wish me a nice day.

“I’ve got to get me one of those.” I mutter to myself as I reach my car.

Sixth Lecture.
Dr. R stands up in front of the class: “As you have probably noticed, I prefer working with intimate, time-intensive methods of murder. I feel it gives better insight into the final moments of a victim and a connection that really lasts. The cases I remember the most are the ones where the killer obviously spent a lot of time with his victim.

“Our next homework assignment will be a time intense project that will require you to get creative. I’m really excited to see how you all do, but first we are going to spend some time with the ‘shock and awe’ deaths you may have to deal with. These—shootings, explosives, blunt force trauma for example—are all very common. They can be premeditated or they may just happen in a moment of rage. Victims can be specifically targeted or just opportunistic kills.

“Today, I want to start with a couple guns. The first is a fully automatic LSAT machine gun. I think most of you will have heard of one of the cases I worked on a few years ago: the Kenworth killings?

“John Kenworth, a Marine at the time, massacred nearly 50 people at three different shopping malls with a few of these guns. He would walk nonchalantly to the middle of the most crowded section and open fire. The high capacity of the gun allowed him to maintain a continuous stream of bullets going for about two minutes, but by the time police officers arrived on the scene his weapon would be there, but he was nowhere to be found. We eventually found that he would cover himself in his victims blood and escape in the confusion officials trying to help the wounded.”

As he loads the gun, three young women are ushered onto the stage. Debbie Roth, a 19 year old who was on the tennis team; Hannah Torrez, a 23 year old art student; and Tabitha Stanford, a girl I recognized from my apartment building. Debbie was wearing a pencil skirt that showed off her toned legs, and a light, striped sweater. Hannah, who always dressed a bit tomboyish was wearing cargo pants and a t shirt that was tight enough, however, to show off her large breasts. Tabitha caught my eye as she made her way onto the stage and smiled in slight recognition. She was wearing a green sweater dress with black tights underneath. Her dark brown hair and deep caramel colored skin complemented the dress well.

Dr. R directs them to stand shoulder to shoulder on the stage. “I want to demonstrate the power of a fully automatic machine gun for you all.” He placed the gun on a kickstand set up on a table about twenty feet in front of the three girls. “Well,” he smiles sheepishly at the class, “Here goes.” He squeezed the trigger and the room erupted into a deafening racket.

The gun has already fired off about ten rounds as Dr. R finds his target. The first bullet to strike flesh cuts through Debbie’s shoulder, then is rapid succession three more crush into her chest. Her body responds violently to the shock of ever round. A stray bullet hits Hannah in the gut, then, as she grasps at her stomach another catches her in the forehead. Half of her brains splatter out the back of her head onto the wall behind. Hannah’s body goes stiff, and she falls straight back with a thud just as another few bullets cut out Debbie’s legs from beneath her. She hits the ground face first in a pool of blood.

The only girl left standing is Tabitha. My heart is racing as a mix of emotions rush through me. I almost hate to see such a beautiful body like the other two, but at the same time I am anticipating seeing the innocent girl turned into a lifeless corpse. One second she is standing there cringing at the sight and sound of the girls next to her being blown away and the next second a crack echoes through the hall and her head is reduced to a bloody stump and a splash of organic matter on the wall. The sound of the machine gun dies out, and we watch in near silence as the body stands headless for nearly two and a half seconds before the knees give out and it crumples to the ground in a pitiful heap.

We all turn to see where the shot came from. A military sniper is standing at the back of the classroom, 50 cal. rifle still smoking. Dr. R says, “Thank you, Ed,” and he replies with a “No problem” then leaves.

Dr. R continues his lecture as he walks toward the three ruined bodies: “As you can see, a machine gun does substantial damage, but nothing beats a sniper rifle for sheer power and precision.” He prods Hannah’s head with his foot and another large piece of her grey matter oozes from her forehead.

He steps over to Debbie to observe the damage. “Dead. Dead as a doornail. She may have been able to survive a few hits, but three directly into her chest would be very unlikely. Her heart is probably torn to shreds. Her lungs are collapsed, at least.”



Dr. R moves back to the other side of the stage. “Let’s move onto blunt force trauma. I know I have shown one example in this class, but I was thinking we would try something a little different.

“Beating someone to death with your bear hands is actually a lot harder than many people think. For someone untrained, he or she is more likely to break a finger or wrist bone before doing enough damage to a victim to ensure death. The human skull is very hard and can withstand a surprising amount of punishment.

“That’s why I’ve brought in another special guest, Mixed Martial Artist Herman Chin. His training has given him much experience in hand to hand combat and he is proficient in martial arts ranging from boxing to judo.”

Herman, a bare chested man about 5’ 8” steps onto the stage. “Hello, everyone. It’s great to be here to help you all learn.”

Dr. R continues, “Master Chin, if you would, can you demonstrate various lethal strikes?”

“Of course. And,” He adds, “ I’ve brought a few of my own models for demonstration.”

Five beautiful Chinese girls step onto the stage. Each is naked except for a thong. The first has shoulder length, green hair and is wearing a matching green thong. She is significantly shorter than Chin, about 4’11”; very thin; and fair skinned. Her breasts are small but pleasantly shaped. Chin steps behind her placing his hands on her shoulders. She flinched ever so slightly at his touch.

“There are three main areas I like to use for sure-fire, instantaneous death.” He pulls back her hair behind her ear, and indicates the slight indention on the side of her head. Her temple is a vulnerable soft spot. A firm, well-placed strike will end her life immediately. He steps to her side, rubs his knuckles against her small head. In a short, swift gesture, his hand recoils then connects with her head. She drops lifelessly to the floor.

The next girls steps up readily. She is slightly taller than the last girl, but still petite. Her hair and thong are both red. Her skin is slightly darker, and her breasts are larger. “The second method I like to use is here,” he places his palm against the underside of her nose. “Jamming her nose upward with enough force breaks bones up into her skull.” He gives another practiced blow, and another girl drops dead, a trickle of blood running from her nostrils onto the floor.

“The third and final method of instant death that is my favorite is at the base of the skull.” He has the third girl, with a black thong and black hair, face backward and bow her head forward. He fingers the area where her neck joins the back of her head. “A quick chop here and she’ll be out before she knows what hit her.” Keeping a hand firmly pressing her head down, he lines up his strike. As soon as his hand connects, her body relaxes and falls. Another corpse lands with a muffled thud.

“With the remaining two,” Chin turns to the class, “I want to show you two more methods of killing with your bare hands.” He motions the fourth girl onto the stage. Pure white hair reaches the middle of her back. Her white thong is almost see-through and her skin is nearly as white. She is about 5’4” with plump, perky breasts, a high waist, and bright grey eyes. I am immediately infatuated. She comes to stand in front of Chin. He nudges her chin with his hand so that she lifts her head slightly. “This method,” He explains, “is not foolproof, nor is it instantaneous. However,” He paused as an idea seemed to form, “it is relatively easy.”

He eyes the class, then says something that makes my heart leap. “Perhaps I can get a volunteer?”

Hands shoot up across the class, mine included. His eyes catch mine. He points me out and says, “How about you. Come on up!”

I make my way up the stage to a few audible sighs of disappointment. I step up the Chin and the white haired girl. She is even more beautiful up close. Flawlessly formed and highly customized, I wonder is she is one the humanoids created from Synthetic DNA I have heard about. Her smile is nearly heart stopping as she looks up at me.

Chin demonstrates slowly the strike I am to perform: a quick jab the throat. I line up my fist and my knuckles brush her soft skin. I imagine wrapping my hands around her thin neck and squeezing and the thought alone is exhilarating.

Unfortunately, I am in front of a classroom and am expected to kill her with a punch. I take two breaths to steady my hand, pull back and land the blow. Her head jerks back, silky hair shimmering as it shakes. Her eyes are widening as she stumbles backward. Her hands move up the her neck and she makes one short choking noise before the swelling in her throat closes off her airway. She falls onto her back. Her legs kick away against the ground for a few seconds until she finally shivers and falls still.

“Good job!” Chin said as he good-naturedly clapped me on the back.

I stepped back off the stage and returned to my seat. As he introduced the last girl. Blue hair and a blue thong, she was average height and build with much darker skin than the rest. “I would like to ask my understudy out here to demonstrate this technique for you all. He has gone through much training to be able perform this feat. It is a variation of what many know as the ‘One Inch Punch” made popular by Bruce Lee. This however is a lethal version. It is more like a five-inch punch, but it is still impressive.

“The goal is to convey enough force to the chest of your target to stop their heart. It is not easy by any means with a standard punch, let alone one from five inches.”

The assistant, a young lady in a karategi approached the blue haired girl. She bowed to the class then faced her target. Placing her fist a few inches away from the girl, between her bare breasts. She breathed about five deep breaths. Finally she made two short, loud shouts, and struck. The girl rocked back on her heels. There was pain in her eyes. A whimper passed through her lips and she grabbed at her chest. She coughed and dropped to her knees. A couple streams of urine began running down the inside of both her legs. Her eyes unfocused and she fell face forward.

The assistant bowed again and walked back off the stage.

“Thank you so much Chin.” Dr. R returned to the stage, “Unfortunately that is all we have time for today, class, but I will see you again Thursday, when I will explain our next homework assignment.”



I stood to leave, but before I made it to the aisle, Dr. R called me up to speak with him. He stood with Chin at the front of the class where a cleaning crew had already started taking care of the corpses. Dr. R began: “Mr. Chin here has an interesting opportunity for you I think.”

“Yes, first let me compliment your performance today, that was good for a first timer.”

I just smile and say, “Thanks.”

“Second, let me ask how you liked my models?”

“They’re quite… exquisite.” I say, honestly.

“They are the latest advancements in Synthetic DNA technologies.” I can’t help but smile to myself as he continues: “I own a company committed to providing accurate representations of human life in the most customizable ways. The opportunity is a job with my company, which would involve you testing the characteristics of our models and providing feedback to our SDNA engineers. Your feedback would help further refine the physical and emotional responsiveness of the humanoids we are commissioned to create.”

“That sounds extremely interesting.” I eagerly say.

“Great. I’d like to meet with you the day after tomorrow at my offices downtown to get to know you better and work out some details.” He handed me his business card and excused himself. He turned back as he left. “Oh, will you be home today at three?”

“Um, yes I should be…” I answer, puzzled.

“Good. See you soon.”

*

There is a knock at the door.

A man wearing a black suit and holding a tablet introduces himself as Robert. “I was sent over by Mr. Chin of HC Industries.”

“Oh right, I guess this is why he had asked if I would be home.”

“Ah, yes, well he sent me over to let you create your first model.”

“Create me first model?”

“Yes. HC Industries specializes in customizable imitations of human life.”

“Right. But I get to make my own?”

“Yes, Mr. Chin personally authorized one for you.” Robert hands me the tablet. “The customization program is preloaded. Enter the information for your model then customize its physical appearance to whatever suits your wants or needs. Then you can edit the personality and emotional characteristics.” He smiles, “If you’ll excuse me I have to get back. But my number is programmed into the tablet if you need any help or have any questions. Have fun.”

I sit down on my sofa and contemplate what had just happened. With this tablet, I have the ability to create any girl I can imagine. I think of the girls that were in class: their perfect bodies and bright hair. I think about the white haired girl I killed.

“This is gonna be fun.”


I pull up the app on the tablet to begin the process.