A Bloodier Tomorrow

The hitman takes another life, and contemplates the future.

The neon lights from the various mind numbing ads plastered across the skyscrapers that littered the city illuminated the office around me. The thump of the bass in the club below resonated within me. Each beat coinciding with my increasing heart rate as I stared at the door in front of me. The doorknob began to rattle and a short obese man entered quickly shutting and locking the door behind him. This must be Mr. Petrov.

Petrov has been a major distributer of the recently released drug Drain for some time now. Normally this wouldn’t interest a man with skills such as myself, however he had angered some people high up in the company I work for. This meant he needed to be dealt with. To think this man would have continued to go on supplying today’s youth with poison if he had only done as he was instructed. Men like this made my job so much more rewarding.

He shuffled by me, unaware of my presence in the shadows, and sped past his desk to the hidden safe below. As he frantically packed a small duffle bag full of whatever was in the safe, I stepped from the shadows letting a single knife drop from my sleeve into my hand.

“You seem like you’re in a hurry Mr. Petrov.” I spoke just loud enough to be heard over the beat of the music downstairs.

Without saying a word he reached for the magnum strapped under the desk and began firing at me. Click. Click. Click. With a flick of my wrist I tossed the knife I was clutching into the magnum knocking it away from him. Petrov’s eyes grew wide with terror.

My voice was lower this time as I responded to his attempted murder.

“Guns tend to complicate things Mr. Petrov. The sound draws attention, the blood splatter leaves evidence, and most importantly…”

I paused stepping up to the cluttered desk. I looked at the small man in front of me and grinned devilishly.

“…they take away the thrill of the kill!” I spat out through clenched teeth as I reached over the desk with one arm lifting him above the table and smashing him down into it.

The table shattered due to the impact. I took a step back and admired the scene before me. Petrov began to cry and rolled over.

“PLEASE! I’ll…give…you…anything…just…don’t…don’t…” His voice was hoarse as he cried out for mercy.

If this man knew anything about who I was, what I was, he would know that mercy does not exist within me. As he began to slowly crawl towards the door, a small pang of guilt ran through me. By all accounts this man deserved to die, and yet something within me was hesitating. 

“Do you want money?! Women?! I can get you women! Any age! You name it and I can get it for you!” He cried out as he drew nearer to the door.

This man would not die with dignity, he would not die with honor. Instead he would offer up women in his place, he would offer up children. The hesitation that was surely clouding my face vanished replaced with the cold gaze of someone who had taken a thousand lives. The face of someone who would take a thousand more.

With my mind made up I stepped forward and grabbed his head with both hands twisting sharply till I heard the satisfying crack. Today was not a new beginning, only a bloodier tomorrow.

“One thousand and one.” I whispered quietly to myself.

*    *    *

Music from the nightclub began to fade as I made my way out onto the dimly lit street. A red neon sign titled “Flux” marked the entrance. Winter in this city had always been brutal and tonight was no exception. I slipped my hands into my pockets for warmth as I surveyed the street around me.

Despite the frigid air, the street was crowded with people waiting in line to get into Flux. Young men and women eager to waste their nights drinking and dancing away their problems. If there’s one thing I learned doing this job it’s that nothing, not the booze, not the drugs, not the women, none of it can let you escape what goes on inside. You can’t escape the past, or the things you’ve done.

As I stepped up to the curb a faded yellow taxi pulled up, stopping abruptly in front of me. The force of the sudden stop brought up a swirl of white powder which floated gracefully through the air before landing at my feet. The passenger side window rolled down to reveal an older man. Dark skin with kind eyes, a rarity in this city.

“Hi there! Did you need a ride?” The older man called out from the taxi.

I leaned into the passenger window with a straight face.

“You mind if I smoke?” I asked.

“Course not. Hop on in.” The man replied smiling ear to ear.

As I entered the car I noticed a small picture attached to the driver side visor. The picture was of the driver and a young dark skinned girl. It looked to have been taken at central park during one of the rare sunny days. The girl was holding on to him tightly as if she was afraid the world would snatch him away at any second. Maybe she knew more about the world than the clueless group freezing outside in line.

At this point I noticed the man was turned facing me, clearly waiting for direction. My eyes met his and without losing contact I reached into my front jacket pocket and pulled out a roll of cash. I didn’t know exactly how much I had grabbed from the bag Petrov had been packing. The truth was it didn’t matter. Money was never scarce in my line of work.

A look of confusion crossed his face as I reached through the glass and placed the bills in his hand. Just as his mouth opened to protest I interrupted him.

“Drive. It doesn’t matter where. I’ll tell you when to stop.” I commanded.

Although his face was filled with apprehension, we both knew he needed that money and so he nodded his head and turned to drive.

I leaned back in my seat and cracked the window. In an instant I had a fresh cigarette lit and was inhaling the slow death as if it were oxygen. My eyes drifted towards the flashing lights of the signs we passed by. My mind drifted as well, back to my first night back in this city.

Ten years ago seems like a lifetime ago now. Back then I didn’t have any of these pesky feelings, these doubts cropping in. Back then I only wanted one thing, revenge.

In various novels people would say that revenge isn’t the answer. Revenge won’t bring back who or what you’d loss. The statement is accurate enough. Revenge didn’t bring my father back, but it did give me something.

Ten years ago revenge brought me back to this city. If only the men who greeted me upon arrival knew how far I’d be willing to go to get it. Maybe they would still be alive, doing some other mob bosses bidding.

I took a long drag on my cigarette, then chuckled under my breath and muttered.

“Probably not.”

Author's Note

Any feedback is welcome!