Our permanent residence isn’t anything special compared to the homes our parents live in, but it serves its purpose well.
We live in a small town; our house is a modernised farm style, four bedrooms and a huge backyard encased with a wall of forestry. It’s only the two of us, and one room serves as Regina’s den, the other my weapons sanctuary.
It’s the only town in the state that’s far enough away from all Sumus members—that we know of. We’re still armed to the teeth with surveillance, courtesy of having to always look over our shoulder.
Killing people does that to you, along with the rest of our past.
Regina types away on her keyboard, and I nervously begin to pace, something I haven’t done in years.
We’ve never had an instance where a target was covered up like that.
All of them have been reported exactly how we wanted them to be.
Killing falls under my resume; the longer you do it, the easier it gets, because they deserve it, and they’ve been getting worse over the years.
Paranoia hasn’t taken me in its grip like this for a long time.
When Regina hacked the police files, we thought crazy had finally caught up to our psyche that night, thinking only our case was isolated because of who hurt us.
Oh how wrong we were.
Every single name we had in our hands was on that police database, so many women left without justice, just like us.
That was when we decided we had to do something.
It took over a year before we finally set ourselves up, before I was ready to blacken my soul.
Regina would either slip a card disguised as mail for the women, or we’d subtly hand them out passing by, like we were selling them something in particular.
You happen to randomly stumble on one of our cards, it gives nothing away.
Unless the words directly speak to you. They’re embedded with our company’s hidden anagram.
REVENGE.
It’s only a QR code, with no further information. You scan it, nothing happens.
Regina gets a ping that a code has been activated, then some fancy shit involving a VPN and harmless virus.
She gets your internet history, scopes out anything related to the people that hurt them, and social media pages to match up with our findings. She’s able to trace anything you’ve deleted, and all works towards our mark’s case.
Once she’s confident in identifying you from our record, she slips a private messaging app on your phone to communicate through.
Some are more hesitant than others, and it takes time to build up the trust. Hence why we haven’t cleared the full list in our five years.
We don’t go in bloodthirsty; we let them know if they want that problem solved, we’re willing to do it.
We let them know what’s on offer.
Blackmail or death.
The girls that work for us are the ones who chose the latter. We use the funds to pay them back and keep some for ourselves.
Someone’s got to fund our insane revenge plan.
It’s good for us; it means we can subtract the funds and remain hidden. They won’t even notice, given the eye-watering amounts we’ve witnessed.
So we don’t necessarily kill them all, just take care of them as their victims ask. Others have done much more sinister acts since, and our contacts want nothing more than to see them dead.
