D is for Dangerous

"_D is for *D*angerous_," said Brian D. Agustine, world's greatest entertainer since Evel Knievel, answering the reporter's question.

"_Is there a ghost_ to come?" asked one of the bottom-feeders of the journalist industry; Agustine's story heavily overdone, the more prestigious writers turned down his invitation to the conference.

_Inmortal_, Brian thought, knowing he would be known long after his death, but this was not the reporter's question.

"_Haiti_ has enough ghosts for us to be thinking of mine," he said. _Ruby_, his manager, nodded.

_Climbing up the walls_, the assassin found his place on the roof of the apartment building across the street. _La Bamba_ was playing from the stereo of a Jeep driving by the Conference Centre, as another reporter asked for the name of Brian's greatest fan.

"_My Dick_ Ruby, always being there for me, he's the best manager/fan I could ask for," he said smiling. _Daylight_ pierced through the big windows of the Conference Centre along with a bullet.

_Happy Ending._