STAINED

Sitting there, in the red wine of innocent veins, I recall the cold feeling of losing brother. The same raised eye brow, sadistic look I had just before concluding to take my anger out on any poor sonofabitch who's got it coming had printed on my face. This time, the look of loss on my face meant something different..... What magnitude of my humanity is gone? It was a cold Monday morning in LA, the climate was definitely telling on my skin. Sleep is dangerous for people like me, but I close my eyes from time to time. No, I'm not a vampire or any of those bloodsucking, nightflying fairytale. I do more of tearing cartilages, seperation bones, stoping hearts and executing judgement. I take life for a living with a gun, a knife, a plank, pencil, anything that's anything can be used at my disposal to kill anyone killable. The way people like me see the world is more or less how gods see it, we take the lives of people we are paid to kill so, be careful of the rich men you offend. Everyone is a target at any time. Key word, "people like me". I see myself a little different, maybe the only killer with anything close to a conscience. When I was 13 yrs old, my brother who was the remaining family I had was colateral damage to some careless muthafucker. He was after housemaster, an upcoming drugs dealer. The assassin's boss must have been a drugs dealer too, who decided to clear the competition. While I was out on an errand for one of those unlucky whores in a nun's gown, my brother was respiring for the last time, drowning in a pool of two bloods, his and housemaster's. I came back and not a single soul could explain what had happened, they couldn't care less about my dead brother when other people with their colour of skin also died. f*****g rascist. A lot happened, slit some throats, went to prison, got bailed by a sinnner with mammon's gifts and now, I'm a lethal killing machine. While others kill to settle scores, paint a tatoo to savor the moment, scar their skins after a successful plan to send a soul to its maker, I kill to ease the pain and with every bad guy I kill, redemption for the amount of blood my brother lost. I don't just kill, I kill killers and crime bosses that kill innocent people for money. I guess in just bad market. You might fancy me as "The Righteous Killer" but there's no justifying what I do, and I'm not asking for justice either. I see a bad guy then wait for a money man with some issue with him to pay the right price. On this Monday morning, I was targeting a popular police man. A crook that have stolen and killed for a common reason, money, except that he sells his soul for any bidder at anytime, and has zero shame or respect for what the badge he wears stood for. Gosh! Everyone wanted him dead but, the bastards a freakin cop. He's protected by the law...... But not from me. I plan to make it natural, like it was inevitable, even if it was, I just wanted to prevent fingers from pointing. A simple polonium-204 could kill him rapidly from the inside. With enough ARS, he'd be dead within 24 hours. But, an autopsy would give it out, making it clear he was poisoned. Though, it would have been fun to watch, I'd prefer this mission an accident. The plan is simple, I get into his office on disguise. Nobody would suspect a harmless looking nigga with a mustache and some specs right? While I'm inside, I set up a rope strong enough to defy the god-given strength of Hercules. Our little monseuir here is about to commit suicide (I'm gonna hang him). The oldest trick in the book, very fun to watch. I know what you're thinking, they might think he was hanged(even though that's what's about to happen), but a simple note with his signature can confirm that he was tired of living, but we know, I was just tired of letting him live. When you're like me, you know the true colours of people. But no one saw the gutter in this man. I'm reading through his boss's review and it turns out his a tardy guy. In his words, "I'm thinking of letting him go, he can't even show up to work an hour late, he can come 3 hours after the first bell, but the people love em. Not surprising, the bastard's late for his own death. Click! Click!, speak of the devil, it's copboy right now. "Nasty muthafucker's talking through the door, turn around and see the f*****g grimm reaper" I exclaimed in my mind as I sat comfortably on his chair. He locks the door and shoves his hand in his pocket and brings out some tips for me, he just doesn't know it yet. I watched him calculate the money and the punk ass b***h is still unaware of the sexy ass black boy right in front of him. What an officer. I was growing sick of looking at that dude not noticing me, so, I cleared my throat. He looks at me in shock for a while, then I broke the silence by starting a prayer. "Our father, Who art in heaven Hallowed be thy name Thy kingdom come Thy will be done on earth As it is done up in heaven....." "What's the matter, don't know the Lord's prayer?" I said with a wild grin "what are you doing in my office" he asked suspiciously "well, not much, I'm here to kill two things,.....time and a moron with a badge." "you can't, you will rot in jail" "yh, I'm not wasting my time explaining to you how wrong you are, now, are you going to put this rope around your neck or I'm I going to have to force you" He brings out a pistol and shoots at me, luckily for me, I ducked. "shoot, always forget about the gun" I whispered to myself. I bring out a muzzle and a pair of gloves from my pocket and smile "I knew this would come in handy". One thing about my line of work, always have a contingency plan, in case the first plan fails. And my first plan almost never works. As I put on the gloves, he screams "buddy, you messed with the wrong cop", "Says the corpse" I replied sharply. Even if he was going to die, I couldn't let him die with a victory over me in trash talking. I throw a false grenade at him and he bends for some level of cover cause he thought it was too late. "psych" I kicked the USP of his hand kicked him low and grabbed the gun. "I tried to make this as honourable as possible, even started a last prayer for you (I attach the muzzle to the gun), but no!!! you had to hopelessly resist". I put a bullet to his head before he could finish his sentence "you don't wanna......". It was silent because of the muzzle. I had to make up for the first shot fired. I kept the gun beside him, luckily, his prints were still on it. I adjusted my mustache and left swiftly with some cash he was nice enough to drop for a job well done. I didn't see him as a human being, I saw him as the wood a capenter uses, he was my victim and work tool. With every patient, every wood, every work tool I use, I tell myself, I'm not heartless. It's just business