I am a killer. These words come to me as easily as I draw my very breath.
I am a thief. I take that which is not mine without thought or conscience.
With every death I grow distant. With every pool of crimson that splashes upon the shores of death in my wake, I leave behind any trace of humanity, falling darker into the shadows in which I hide.
The money arrived by carrier, its plain brown wrappings unmarred by return address. It didn't need one. I knew the job well, and had gone over it in my head a thousand times. It would be a routine sniping. A hit and run. If by chance there were witnesses, they too would have to be eliminated. My prey was trapped easily enough. I had set up a meeting between two old friends, and followed the first to the meeting site. My target had not yet arrived, so I passed the time studying the bait through the high powered lens of my scope.............
His beady eyes glinted with a lack of intelligence that was mostly native to the animal world. There was something cruel behind those eyes, and that smile hid the grin of a devil. I watched him, my finger sliding slowly over the smooth steel of my trigger. Patience is a virtue that I purchased with blood, long ago.
That waiting paid off.
The conversation seemed a bit one-sided, as if a fan were meeting his hero. I drew my own special little spotlight on the play as I set the rifle against my shoulder. I steadied my aim, and as I did, it became evident that I was seen. Before he could question my motives, I took my shot.
The shot rang out like a bellowing god, its harsh crack the whip of life biting into death. I knew my aim was true.....
When the red mist of life cleared, I saw my victory. The prey was dead, and beside him his once doating admirer lay drenched in a crimson blanket of blood and brains. His pale, almost too white flesh drenched red, as a single curse in that unknown language passed through numbed lips...........
But this is where it got ugly. It seems local law enforcement was onto my little meeting. They had set up a sting in order to bust my target and the trained monkey on duty had witnessed the whole thing. Getting to his surveillance van and destroying the evidence would be easy. Convincing a good cop to keep his mouth shut, wouldn't be. As the bait began to babble his blood covered story to the police, I had already made my decision.
He would have to be taken out.
The shot exploded like a blacksmith's hammer striking newly forged steel. My already blood spattered patsy became a living canvas of gore, to the art I call death.
Silence echoed the air in a deafening parody of the moment before. The cop's
head lay in two pieces beside him as my patsy looked on in stunned silence.
He may have lived with half a brain if he was a lawyer........
I left the bait holding the bag. No witnesses, a high caliber weapon with his
prints on it and two bodies would make sure that he went away for a long, long
time. Burning the van, I left the scene with the silence of death itself, leaving
my patsy to his thoughts...
Welcome to my world.