Note: I just began by typing the word ‘requiem’ randomly, then checked the synonyms, then the idea exploded from there. Entirely unplanned…

“Requiem”

The church was deathly silent as the presiding minister read out the circumstances surrounding the death of the perfectly dressed body lying in the perfect mahogany coffin. In the pews, some talked amongst themselves and some cried. In the front row, an inconsolable young woman drained a river of tears onto the shoulder of a man who sat tall and proud, silent as the grave. He had no emotion, and was willing to show none. What a fine bodyguard he’d been, letting his charge get shot five times in the chest out in the open.

He let out a silent sigh, eyeing the man to his right. He eyed him back, totally impassive, not a single sign of sorrow to be found on his face. The former bodyguard, the taller of the two standing at 6’ 5”, let out a sigh as the pastor came to the end of his speech. Next was a statement from a friend, and he was up to the bat. Slowly standing up, he left the girl in the hands of the second man, who half-heartedlyprovidedher withwords that provided shallow comfort.

Stepping up to the podium, he looked across the hall of people. He let out a silent sigh as he spoke into the microphone, his words echoing throughout the building.

“Speaking as…” he began, his usually monotone voice now showing very mild signs of emotion, “a close friend of Marty…I…”

He sighed, deciding to start again.

“When I was asked todo this speech…I accepted…” he said, “I accepted because not only was Marty a good man…he was also a very good friend. One of the best I ever had. We were…we were like brothers, ya know? I can honestly say that…he was one of the most charming people I ever did know. In this business, you don’t make friendships easily, and your charge is the only person you can really get to know. Everybody else is off-limits, your charge is who you’re…paid…to protect.”

He drew back from the microphone, and let out a deep sigh. Memories came flooding back. One minute, they’d been walking down the street surrounded by a plethora of tall men, the next some hooded Triad punk had somehow broke through the ring, and planted five bullets through Marty’s torso. Everybody had been panicking and pulled out their pistols and revolvers. A couple of guys had even tried to give chase, but that cruel bastard had slipped away, probably to a hefty cash prize. From his experience, he knew that such a wound was fatal. He, along with the others, had to just stand there and watch their charge die a slow and painful death.

Sighing again, he came back to the microphone to continue his speech.

“I saw Marty through some tough times. We were always there for each other, me with my big fists and him with his big mouth…” he allowed himself a brief chuckle, trying to lighten the mood slightly by adding humour, “We had his sort of friendly rivalry, where we took digs at each other. Marty…ha, we always used to joke about our heights. Here was me, Mister Big, and there was Lil’ Marty…poor guy. He musta been no more than five foot two; I always towered over him!”

The laughs didn’t come. Even if he’d given them all of eternity, they still would’ve failed to show up…just like the potentially life-saving ambulance had failed to show up. He gritted his teeth, continuing.

“I was with Marty, not too far away from him actually, when he found love; Luisa Versailles. They…they were the perfect match. Marty had a side that none of us normally saw…his sensitive side. And it really showed when he was around her. They took the weight off each other’s shoulders…they connected like those little falling bricks in Tetris. I aint trying to be funny, that’s the god-honest truth. “

In the front row of the pews, a pristinely dressed man, slightly above average weight and with greying hair, wiped yet another tear from his eyes. He eyed the open coffin. It was lucky it was even open; it was only because of the shirt covering his son’s chest that the horrific bullet wounds were left invisible to the naked eye. He clenched his fist, the raging fires of wrath consuming him. An aide leaned over to him and told him to keep his anger to a visible minimum whilst in public. He obeyed, loosening his fist.

On the podium, the bodyguard continued with his speech, which was becoming depressing to continue with, even for him. He hid his emotions behind a mask; that mask was sure to break soon, fall to the ground and shatter into a million pieces.

“Marty was undoubtedly her Prince Charming. He was the knight in shining armour she’d been waiting for all her life. You could see that when they were staring into each other’s eyes. I was assigned to be with him at all times, so I got to glimpse into their relationship a little bit. When Marty was around her, it was like he was a completely different person; sure, he was still the uncommonly suave, dapper guy we all used to know, he was just that times a million. He was so charismatic and endearing, you wouldn’t believe it. He would’ve died for her, and I know that for a fact. He was the Romeo to her Juliet.”

By now, the former bodyguard was beginning to show signs of breaking down. He scrunched up his face, trying to hide it.

“There would be times…when all Mart would talk about would be Luisa. Never really having someone myself, I was keen to learn more about them. I put myself through hours of ‘Luisa, Luisa, Luisa’. I...Lu, I’m sorry you have to hear this, but…he told me he was going to ask you to marry him.”

The cries from the young woman became louder. He continued nevertheless.

“He was going to ask…on your birthday.”

The cries doubled in volume and anguish, uncontrollable emotion surging through her, her mind working in ways that a man could’ve never understood. Trying his hardest to block out her anguished wails, he backed slowly away from the podium again, clutching his shaved head. If the circumstances couldn’t be any worse already in this environment, he had a thought that everyone shared; today would’ve been Marty’s 23rd birthday. He’d barely begun his life when it’d been taken away from him.

He gritted his teeth, feeling his mask beginning to crack at his only known pressure points.

“He…he was gonna marry you in Sicily.” He grunted, feeling a forbidden tear slip down his face, “It was gonna be real fancy, everybody was gonna be there, you woulda had everything! HE WANTED YOU TO BE THE MOTHER OF HIS KIDS!”

Jay Helena finally lost control, something inside his mind snapping. He half-collapsed against the podium, tears streaming from his eyes. In a display of monkey-see, monkey-do, half the church exploded into tears with him, including Marty’s father. Seeing this, the pastor walked up to the podium, resting his holy hand on the crumpled bodyguard’s shoulder, thanking him for the speech despite the breakdown. Jay probably didn’t hear him, as all that came out of his mouth was the word ‘Marty’ between random intervals.

With the priest’s thanks, Jay slowly composed himself, stepping down from the podium after five minutes of getting his image back, although it had now been forever shattered into pieces, his unseen side exposed for all to see, including his superiors. Jay didn’t know whether they would accept it happening because of the circumstances, or whether they would flat-out fire him afterwards for showing emotion.

After a concluding speech from the priest, all sang a hymn before the service officially came to an end. Jay, now more or less fully composed, put a hand on Luisa’s shoulder, and coaxed her into getting up to leave. As they, and a small handful of secondary minders took the walk down the aisle towards the exit, Jay walked past his charge’s coffin as quickly as possible, doing his best to shield Luisa from the body and the onslaught on emotions it would bring for both of them.

As they had priority amongst the crowd, they were some of the first to leave. As they approached the large doors, they noticed nothing out of the ordinary. The minders flankedLuisaon all sides, ensuring her safety. Exiting the church and walking out onto the gravel, an overcast sky above them threatening downpour, they approached the small motorcade of black four-doors.

Out of nowhere, a hooded thug jumped out from behind one of the cars, firing exactly five shots into Luisa’s chest at point-blank range before legging it.

“NOT AGAIN!” Jay screamed, anguish consuming him, “SOMEBODY CALL A FUCKIN’ AMBULANCE! NOW! YOU TWO, GET AFTER THAT PRICK! I WANT HIM DEAD! DEAD!”

Two minders automatically ran in the direction of the shooter, hoping to catch him. Luisa, small and bloodied, did nothing but groan as the blood trickled between her fingers, which clutched at her stomach. It was the shock that was to kill her, not the pain.

Jay desperately tried to stem the flow of blood with his bare hands. He lost his charge, and now he was losing his charge’s beloved? Never!

“You’ll be okay!” he said desperately, his own words not bringing encouragement even to himself, “You’ll be okay, you’ll pull through, I swear! I won’t let you die!”

“No…” she wheezed, “I…I--”

She choked on her own blood as a stream escaped her mouth and slid down her chin. Jay grunted in desperation, looking around for assistance that would never come.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT AMBULANCE?”

A smile spread across Luisa’s face.

“Marty…” she sighed happily, grinning as if on a drug high, “My Marty…”

Her eyes began to slowly close, and Jay began screaming.

“NO! NOOO! DON’T DIE ON ME! PLEASE, GOD, DON’T DIE ON ME!”

As a final sigh escaped from her lips, she fell silent, death taking her. She lay still in Jay’s arms. A minder knelt down.

“Forget it, Jay.” He sighed deeply, regret evident in his voice, “She’s gone.”

Jay looked up to the overcast sky, and bellowed to the heavens, unleashing anguished cries. Tears streamed down his eyes. Failing his charge was bad enough for him. Failing the girl his charge had entrusted him to protect in his absence was unbearable. The minder put a hand on his shoulder, trying to issue some form of condolence. It was useless. Along with the rest of the present minders, he backed away slowly.

The skies joined him in his sorrow, unleashing a torrent of rain. Soon, both the living and the dead were soaked to the bone. Jay knelt lower, burying his head in her chest as his anguish continued. The tears reduced themselves to sobs, and the others could do nothing but watch the scene, hiding their own emotions as they had always done in their line of work.

Jay slowly reached into his back pocket, pulling out a Sig Sauer P210. Pulling back the hammer, he slowly raised the gun to his head. One of the minders had heard the distinct cocking of the weapon, and turned to him --too late.

“JAY, NO!”

The shot resounded through the churchyard, leaving all in a deathly silence…