The Hitman and His Consort

III - Identities

First-person P.O.V: VALENTIN HACKSAW

Personally, I think people are just too emotional.

Then I was diagnosed as a sociopath and it made some sense, I suppose.

I knew it was borderline stupid to 'not lie' when lying gets the odds in your favor. For the longest time, I've been excellent at doing things that it's come to bore me, because when I look at my family. I don't see them as my victims, rather they're my competition. I was lucky enough to be with such a kind and understanding family.

‘B*llshit, I’ve never met a more corrupted bunch than them,’ And even so, we’re still not labeled dysfunctional. These are monsters.

I knew that I'm adopted at a young age, I'm not stupid but if I would be forced to say exactly when I realized it, was the moment Denis, my brother older than me by two years, became someone who ‘gets around’ just for the enjoyment of it.

By then I thought 'what sort of i***t wastes his time with people and relationships?' and I knew, I am in no sort of way related to them. Lesser to him.

We spoke about it, and to no one's surprise I am adopted and our conversation ended there. If my biological parents have no interest in me, then I have no interest in them. I didn't ask to be here but I like my chances and I'll take what I get.

As of now, I'm 24 years old, diagnosed at 16 since my case of ASPD was 'particularly rare' yet mild that they suggested early countermeasures in hopes to lessen it on a drastic scale.

Since ASPD is on a spectrum I had a few 'qualities' that are both common and uncommon to people with the same issue, out of the long list of problematic traits and behaviors that I have, once my psychologist at the time isolated one trait that he thought could salvage an ounce of conscience and empathy within me, that man became persistent in getting me into therapeutic treatment.

It didn't do jack-s**t. However, to put that man at ease my parents suggested that I'll see another therapist and have me attend regularly. I did, but my current therapist and I came to an understanding that we're both just wasting each other's time so we just watch a T.V series to pass time.

"Val, I'm gonna need you to focus please," I heard Denis whisper as we stood in a large room filled with white flowers and black ribbons, a wake. Soft crying of ladies both young and old filled it with mild echoes.

Whether crying tears of sorrow because they're expressing their sincerity and genuine loneliness of this man's passing or tears of joy since at long last, they now have the will-reading moment and know just how much wealth they're for is irrelevant to our presence here.

We're here to make a hundred percent certain that there will be no attempt at a funny monkey stunt where an i***t tries to hostage the whole room to take hold of the will and use it as leverage or something along those weak schemes. I get the idea, instead of a person, they kidnap a piece of paper. Easy, but unoriginal.

Then again 32 out of the 164 guests of this service would probably stage something like that, everyone loves those dollar bills.

"Can't they just cry at home and get this over wi—ugh!" Denis landed a jab to my side before I could finish my educated complaining, gesturing to the towering figure of Señor Georgio as he paved a way through an emotional crowd. I never knew this man’s real name, not that it’s any of my business.

He finally reached us, standing with a firm stance as his rotund, big belly posture greeted us with a slight jiggle.

Time to start scoring the lies we'll face today, otherwise, I'd die of boredom. He took in a soft breath and ran his gaze through the room before saying, "He was a good man,"

'Overused, always said in funerals, probably false but plus points for being relevant to the setting: 6.5 points'

Denis nodded in fake agreement as he offered a solemn smile, "Indeed sir, I loved him like my very own grandfather," he replied, placing a hand on his chest making the larger man smile, probably thinking we’re having a very genuine conversation.

'Sentimental, Denis improved a lot through the years, hand gestures and facial expressions are appreciated: 7.2,'

Señor stretched out a large, calloused, and probably criminally involved hand for a handshake and a split second passed where Denis and I exchanged glances to know who would accept that hand. Denis made it crystal clear with a subtle glare that he will not take that hand, so I, of course, had to work in his place.

I reached out my hand and met Señor's firm grip, it was done as soon as it happened. He seemed satisfied enough to leave but he didn't, "He's a man of virtue, you know?" he started, I had to take in a deep breath to stop the urge to roll my eyes, this is going to take long. Señor's gaze then landed on me, knowingly pointing a finger at me, "He saw something in you, Valentin, he thinks you have great potential,"

'but I don't' was what he seemed to express,

I know this man hates my—no, our family's guts. Señor lives in this stupid fantasy where he thinks he’s an enormous figure in the business scene and he sees Don Alejandro, the dead man in the pretty casket, as one of his rivals like he could actually challenge him in a feud.

Señor Georgio couldn't fight Don Alejandro’s influence even at the latter’s deathbed and still struggle just to end up losing. Which explains his disdain for me and my family for being liked by Don Alejandro.

That was a funny joke. No, Don Alejandro hated the fact that his friend's family became his business rival. He and my paternal grandfather used to be business partners, but when my grandfather died, my father took over and became a bit of a rogue, which caused some disputes, but he became nicer to us recently since he's dying.

He left investors’ spots and shares in a few major companies and that's what most of these weeping goblins are waiting for.

But not us. His empty praises were the extent of his late kindness to us and we expect nothing more.

Goblins this big were harder to fend off though, Señor Georgio isn't here to mourn. If Don Alejandro didn't die of a heart attack, Señor Georgio himself would have killed him if he had the balls to do it. He would fail without a doubt, though.

It reminds me of the wise words of my mother, ‘killing’ shouldn’t be someone’s first approach because cleaning it up is worth more effort than the actual deed. I agree with that. Finally, the crying subsided, when we looked over why we saw the firm stance of Mr.Hendrick, clad in his designer suit as he always is and will be.

Holding a light-brownish tea-stained-looking paper in his hand, his eyes roamed the service, and gestured for everyone to sit down.

At least those who are relatives, and or, people want to listen in hopes to take part in the whole 'wealth' thing.

"Mr. Alejandro Sandoval the third prepared a meticulous record and receipt for all the wealth he acquired in whatever form such as investments in real estate, jewelry, currency, transportation, land mines, and businesses, however for this service I will recite a simpler overview of its contents" he began, I can see a few of these goblins already at the edge of their seats, their eyes glistening not with tears, but with anticipation.

"For his first son, Alejandro Sandoval the fourth, he leaves his castle in Paris and all the possessions within that compound," Mr. Hendrick stated and allowed a moment to pass, waiting for any violent reactions, somehow amused by the lack of such.

Clearing his throat, Mr.Hendrick continued, running his gaze on the gathered crowd. "to his first daughter, Sandra Giovanna Sandoval, his investment to the Qing company, the details and a message is requested to be disclosed only to the benefactor," he explained as he flipped through the next page, resuming to drone on about wealth, properties, and all that filthy rich top dollar gigs.

Denis nudged my side with his elbow, darting his eyes to the far corner to our right where a woman who wasn't there before is now casually leaning against the wall. I tapped his back twice, a signal that indicates I'll start scouting. An opportunity to leave Señor Georgio’s annoying company.

A mild smile crossed Denis's face again as he leaned close to Señor, whispering something that made the large man nod in agreement, I didn't get to hear I'm already walking in the woman's direction with a smile I only wear from muscle memory.

"Good afternoon madam, I'm so sorry for your loss are you a relative of Mr. Sandoval?" I began with a quick analysis of her from head to toe, pale, donning a brown hat and trench coat, a mask, and sunglasses and it seems she's also wearing make-up, gloved hands, hair is unusually shiny which could mean she's either taking extremely good care of it or it's a wig.

Her outfit seems rather fitted. The weapons she might carry would be handguns, maybe a knife or two. She's also wearing moderately heeled boots, non-tactical ones, which will also exclude the possibility of a lengthy chase on foot if ever. She straightened up with a sigh, pointing at her ears before making the 'x' sign with her index fingers.

'Deaf? Clever play, inclusive, out-of-the-box thinking but not guaranteed to be effective at all times: 6.3'

Hiding a more sinister grin, I signed "Sign language, I understand, ASL or BSL?" which seemed to throw her off a little. You won't last long in this line of work without picking up a few tricks. She made the gesture for "ASL" and I nodded, she seemed to know how to play this game, she must have taken classes.

"Mr.Sandoval, relative, you?" I asked again.

"Yes, you?" was her brief reply.

I shook my head at the question and gestured to the gathered crowd, "come in, join them, Will reading," I signed this time she just shook her head. Of course, Will 'reading' would be useless if she "can't" hear it. I have to admit, the deaf approach seemed to work in her favor.

I need to lure her out. I know she’s not supposed to be here. This is a private gathering and the list of attendees was given to us for strict monitoring that even Don Alejandro’s past mistresses and concubines were banned from coming. To think that didn’t stop these people to send someone like her to cause problems just proves that I underestimate people’s stupidity.

I dialed Denis's number and commenced the ‘tight-call’ maneuver. We're separated far enough that she wouldn't be able to make out what he's saying from this distance.

He threw a glance at me before turning his back to us, seeming to excuse himself from Senor's company to move somewhere distant from the crowd. I also turned my back to her so she can't use lip-reading as an excuse as to why she knew what our conversation would be.

"A relative, deaf though so she shouldn't be able to hear this, the bomb is planted beforehand and ready, I’ll time it for 5 minutes, I have the detonator in my pocket," I mumbled to the phone loud enough to let her 'hear' it and shoved my hand in my coat pocket. Of course, there is no bomb and there is no detonator, but I'll be damned if I don't get a reaction from this. She'll bite the bait.

"Oh~ ‘tight-call’? Fun, and a bomb threat? That’s so overused and five minutes is too long, if you want to scare her try… one minute," Denis suggested after nit-picking at me, he has a point, we don't have all day to lure her out, I sighed pinching the bridge of my nose,

"One minute? That’s too tight, man, I need to secure the will first and it doesn't look like the reading will be over soon," I replied playing along, the script makes itself on times like this.

Making subtle steps, I shifted on my feet pretending to be panicking myself, taking a glance at her, my hand still over my mouth, which is something that people normally do during phone calls and another lip-reading repellant.

"Wow, you should try your hand at voice acting Val, you sounded so~ convincing" Denis joked. I knew that he was praising me, I'm no beginner at this. I sighed with an exasperated head shake,

"This isn't a joke, man, I have C-4's around the place, there's no way I can take the will away safe and sound in a minute,” I replied to our fake conversation.

"C-4's! A classic, good choice Val, is she panicking?" Denis asked and I threw another glance at her and this time our eyes met so I had to show a small polite smile before covering my mouth again, hiding a smile.

"Yeah, I guess a minute could work, let me get a closer look," I confirmed his guess, ending the call. He pocketed his phone, returning to Señor Georgio, whispering something again before leaving the room.

The woman and I are right by the entrance & exit of this room so when Denis left he gave my shoulder a light pat it seemed to do just the trick because the minute he was gone, as I'm taking my first step closer to the crowd, the familiar shape of a gun nuzzle is pressed to my back.

I paused, "What business do you have here?" I whispered, not to catch attention.

"I'm here for Georgio," her voice is cold, hushed, and more on the low register.

I rolled my eyes, 'As if anyone actually considered him as a threat,' is what I wanted to say,

"I find that hard to believe," is what I said instead. She pressed the nuzzle deeper, she's definitely done this before.

"I don't need to prove anything to you, Frankenstein, just let me take the guy alive and I'll leave you to it," she demanded rudely so if I may add, her terms were hard to comprehend since it's not the usual threats and her target is not worth this much effort.

She's making a deal with me and asks for cooperation. However, I must say I'm quite an introvert. I don't do favors for people I just met. I tend to ask questions in an attempt to get to know them better.

'Hilarious' I'm my only source of humor.

"Again, why Señor?"

"It's a revenge story, the man's a pig, his victims want to pay him back,"

"Oh, that is very interesting,"

"Nobody asked you,"

"That's rude"

"It's meant to be," was her cold reply. I'm almost ready to cooperate with her and trade Señor Georgio's life for the peace of this funeral service but before I could, my phone vibrated in my chest pocket. Denis called again, probably to check into what happened. I answered it ready to explain but I froze after hearing his brief command:

"Evacuate them Valya,"