Where did I fit in then?
Some might argue vigilante suited me better given my targets. Any knowledgeable profiler who’d worked my case, would probably tag me a mission-orientated serial killer with the goal of eliminating crime families. Question was, did they have a motivator to pin to my profile yet? While they had the calling card I left behind at each kill, that little beauty had some of the best detectives scratching their heads trying to figure out its significance.
Goosebumps erupted over my skin, imagining those men sitting around a steel worktable, drinking stale coffee and trying to surmise every possible scenario to give credence to my crime or chains to my wrists.
If they ever caught me.
I wasn’t arrogant, just methodical in my approach, precise in my kills, clean in my wrap-up and strategic in how I lived my life.
Simplistic innocence. A case of right under their noses.
Adjusting the direction of my scope until I had the perfect angle, I scanned the layout for several minutes. Satisfied I had what I came for, I straightened and waited. Dressed in full black made hiding in the shadows child’s play. Smiling, I carefully examined my finely crafted sword. Against the light reflected from a single lamp to my right, the silver metal gleamed with a deadly edge, its blade whispering promises of bloodshed.
Not long after, the beam of headlights flashing its approach had me looking over the rooftop perimeter. Across the street, a dimly lit warehouse stood at the outskirts of the city, shrouded in darkness and secrecy. The long dark limo glided through its gates, disappearing around the back of the large structure.
I slipped the sword into a protective sheath and strapped it to my back. Dismantling the scope, I bagged it, slung it over my shoulder and I climbed down the wall, using the bricks as footholds. On the ground, I made quick work of reaching my motorcycle, retrieved a flashlight and secured the bag to the black bike before glancing around.
Earlier in the week, I’d surveyed the warehouse I just descended and although it appeared abandoned to a passerby, it was used to store mannequins. Given its probable unimportance, only two guards patrolled the property.
With the night as my shield, I avoided them, picked the lock and snuck into the building. Circumventing the cameras, I’d detected in my prep, I followed the memorized passages and reached the stairwell without complications. Using the banisters as propellers to aid my fluid movements, I flew down the stairs.
The basement, lit by a single fluorescent light was a maze of old machinery, boxes and steel pipes. Locating the door I needed, I slipped through. Only then did I switch on the flashlight and hurriedly navigated a network of secret tunnels that led to the warehouse across the street and my intended destination. The passageways were dank, reeked of putrid crap, and probably claustrophobic to those who feared the dark. While the beam of light from my flashlight wasn’t very effective, training blindfolded had its benefits in situations like these. My other senses were heightened.
A few minutes later, the tunnel ended below a manhole to the side of the property. I pocketed the flashlight, scaled the metal rungs to the top, cautiously shifted the cover and climbed out. From my vantage point hidden between wild undergrowth, I scrutinized the property.
A dozen or so armed guards manned the grounds. My gaze shifting, I observed the hoard of vehicles parked at the rear of the building. Some I recognized from surveillance; others Iguessed by luxury alone, belonged to people who had money to waste. Or my assumptions were correct. This wasn’t just an illegal casino but a meeting place for renowned mafia heads.
“Lucky me. Several birds, one stone,” I whisper sang.
Knowing I wouldn’t get all of them, I stood to my full height and prepared myself with a few calming exercises. I was a killer, yes. But I wasn’t an insatiable one.
Strategy was key.
My target might be daunting to some, my intention, however, was even simpler. If you belonged to a mafia family, you’d die. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I’d find you, one day. Like I said, I wasn’t a greedy killer, I went after what I could handle without causing undue harm to myself.
After all, there was always a new moon, right? And I had the patience of a fucking priest.
As if God agreed, light rain descended from the heavens, and I watched the guards closest to me scatter for cover. It would be easy to end their lives right now, but I planned to leave them for last. A case of attacking from the inside out.
With the grace of a ghost, my steps silent, I crossed the grounds undetected. At the rear of the building, I snaked the edge of a knife under a window seam, released the catch and slipped through the open window after hiding the knife back in my ankle sheath. Dropping the short distance to the floor, I did a quick scan.
Rain tapped against the numerous windows, creating an eerie rhythm that echoed through the empty space. Tall metal pillars, my only camouflage, I darted forward then paused to listen when I gained the opposite side of the room. Muffled voices and the clink of glasses seeped through the thin floorboards beneath my feet.
My gaze jerked to an adjacent room hidden behind another door and the soft whir of metal on metal, indicating the presenceof a probable elevator that led to underground entertainment. Moving stealthily, I opened the door to a crack and peeked in. His back to me, his eyes fastened on the phone in his hand, a single guard manned the metal cage. I glanced around before creeping up behind him.
A quick snap of his neck and he sank to the floor. Usually, I’d use my sword, but I didn’t want anyone spotting the bloody mess yet. Grabbing his ankles, I dragged him out of the so-called foyer and pushed his dead weight behind some empty boxes then stepped into the elevator. With one foot on the handrail, I scaled the wall, slipping inside the trapdoor in the roof four seconds before someone followed and engaged the elevator. A steel-on-steel grind filled the air and the cage shifted slightly as it descended. Once the doors opened, I waited for the cubicle to empty, climbed down and edged my way along a dimly lit passage that suited my cover perfectly.
Thankfully, there were no more guards to kill. Movements quick, I scaled one of the upright poles to the wooden rafters that made up the ceiling. I kept to the shadows, my clothes blending in with the dark beams, crawled over them, and paused above the main room. The large space housed an entertainment mix of gamblers, diners, dancing naked girls and people in various stages of undress, either fucking or being fucked. Watching the patrons laugh, and celebrate their unlawful gains, my thirst for blood burgeoned with each breath.
But I was after the big players in the next room. Although separated by a wall, the rooms shared the same ceiling. I crawled across the beams, found the perfect spot, flattened my body to a beam and silently observed. Their language vulgar, their suits too flashy and smirks unmatched arrogance, it was easy to pick out my victims for today.
“How nice, so many rotten eggs in one–” About to make my move, to kill as many of these criminals as I could in the allottedtime before someone called for reinforcements, my words were cut off.
My roving gaze snagged. Captured. Spellbound. Once again, by him and the act he was about to carry out.
Tall, dark and handsome had nothing on Remo Rossi. The black on black three-piece suit sans a tie and shirt opened to give a glimpse of a masculine chest was tailormade for his body, perfect in whichever angle you looked at him before your eyes reached his face.
I’d seen plenty gorgeous men, men I’d killed, but this man’s beauty was tainted with a lethal danger that could fool you into believing he was innocent of any wrongdoing. That oversight gave him a pointless advantage, by the time his enemies recognized their blunder, he’d relieved them of their last breath. Unlike me, his violence didn’t lurk beneath the surface, he wore it with pride, yet our brutality was perfectly matched.
