Hitman's Hunt

prologue

Dark skies hang low

star shines above

a soft melody is being played by an amazing and enthusiastic singer, singing his own original beautiful words, He looked over the crowd. There must have been at least twenty people watching him and he wishes for hundreds, bathing in the dim purple light of the bar, as he clutched tightly to his cherry-red Gibson Memphis and  Eventually, he lost all sense of everything except for the music.  

fireflies flying in the air

Who are you thinking of?

A furious and enraged sister speeding by her car towards the destination, the car tires are screeching and other drivers are shouting at her because of her reckless driving but she didn't give them s**t about their anger or annoyance, she's too focused on her mission. 

The singer is singing feeling happy and calm, a smile was on his face and relaxation is all he could feel, it's like he found his only one. He swayed with the soft melody, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply letting the music seep into his ears.

To him, music is like a dream. Without music, his life would be a mistake. Music is the shorthand of emotion. Without music, life would be a blank to him. Music was his refuge. He could crawl into space between the notes and curl his back to the loneliness and he believed that the great thing about music is that it didn't save your life, it gave you strength and will power to save your own life; that's the beauty of music.

After his parents' death, he found sanctuary in music. It's in his DNA.

Fireflies are flying, flowers are asleep

Everything is beautiful in pairs

breathing heavily, getting out of the car and speeding off toward the door dodging the crowd.

yanking the door open. She was furious, she didn't want him to get into his path, she wanted him to work with her and practice more and more, she wanted to found who did that to her parent. She was mad, angry and irritated.

The smell of horrible drinks seeped into her nostrils, reeking, rancid, putrid, aroma, stench, whiff, perfume, odor, foul, dissipating, waves of the nauseating stink, repulsive, overpowering, it all hit her.

Not afraid of the dark

only afraid of heartbreak

No matter how weary I am

no matter where you are

firefl-

getting cut off by an angry woman, she was panting and sweat was rolling down her forehead, mic thrown over the floor the annoying screech of the mic annoying the listeners and his cherry-red Gibson Memphis was snatched out of his hand and thrown into the ground to be broken into pieces, a shocked singer and audience, a frown was put upon his face as well as his friends the drummer and the pianist.  

she dragged him out of the building with him struggling, yelling at her to stop doing what she's doing.

" stop" He yelled at her with an angry voice.

" you have to stop, you won't be coming here again or I will destroy this entire building" she sneered at him, she couldn't understand why he wanted to sing, she didn't understand why he won't follow their parent career.

" Leave me alone Gris, I didn't work that hard for you to ruin it " He sneered with anger at her face.

" Missing school to do this stupid hobby in front of those drunks and fools is not suitable " She shouted back at his flushed face, as her anger rose.

" You're being an i***t Gris " He ran his hand through his silky brown hair and breathed deeply " it's not a hobby It's a f*****g job and I don't follow your bullshit, what happened to my mother and father is enough to prove that the job is sick" He remembers the day when the officers came in the morning knocking their door to inform them of their parent's death.

The pain engulfs him whenever they're mentioned, the pain is not dulled as people say it will and things are not getting better, they're only getting worse and worse every f*****g day. You know, it is so hard to see a person that you used to love to go to another world. It is so hard for him to turn and not see them behind him, but it's destiny.

" and who's going to find who did that to them if you didn't help me huh? " She screamed still dragging him to her car, she wanted revenge, The need for revenge was like a rat gnawing at her soul, relentless, unceasing, it could only be stopped by the cold steel of a rat trap, a trap she would devise herself. She would bear a grudge until she died or took revenge.

" you can't force me, Griselda " He huffed pulling his hand 

" Yes I can," She said with coldness and harshness in her voice

 She grabbed his hand and cuffed him by the cold metal of her police cuffs pulling him roughly and in an aggressive way to her car, pushing him in and cuffed his hands to the seat and not even buckling up.

she sped off to the high way, speeding past the limits, them arguing and yelling at each other constantly, she's wanting him to attend a good college and to get a job and he's chasing his dream, She didn't pay attention to the road.

she wasn't paying attention while driving, and their voices rose in through the silence of the night. It would be a cold moonless night. The sky was dark and low, the air so chilled it hurt to breathe.

a truck filled with giant metal poles crashed their car, crushing her car to pieces, it all happened in a blink of an eye, hood crumples, the glass shatters, and the sound of squealing tires.

she's flying out of the car, hitting her head so hard on the hard floor of the street, her vision blurred and a massive headache blew her head.

he's still cuffed, the burns from the airbags all over his body and the car are hanging up on the edge of the high way bridge, it sways and slips off more away. she's trying to get up, to respond to his cries of help, he was hysteric, she could taste the coppery blood pooling in her mouth, she could feel it grazing her teeth and soaking her tongue, she felt the aching and cracks in her bones.

he called her but she couldn't get up, her vision was blurry she was all bloody with gashes and wounds.

she only heard the crashing of the car with him crying out loud

"SISTER"

She breathed heavily, she tried to reach to her brother but her strength and brutality betrayed her, tears slipped from her eyes washing over her blooded cheeks, she knew that she lost him as well and regression is seeping through her veins slowly and burning her like poison. She's wishing to herself death, what is the point of living when she lost everyone, her friends were pushed away from her by her hand, she pushed them away after her parent death.

The blue and red lights were blurred from her vision, the voices of paramedics are muffled, her fingertips were cold, she was shivering and trembling, she was gasping for breath while sobbing and calling her brother constantly in a mumble. 

She was in loss

I stole his dream from him  That thought swirled in her mind. 

In that moment of loss, her worlds collapsed.  

I don't deserve the breath I'm taking right now  The wish of death still roaming around her in circles.

All her life she had feared death, suppressed dealing with the notion, never ready to depart.

She didn't fear it at the moment, she's wishing it with passion

                                                      __________________________________________________

He inhaled that grey stench, the smoke and the strong smell of weed wrapped and hugged itself to the walls of the small cramped room, puffing out the grey smoke out of his filthy mouth that is filled with yellow disgusting digits.

The old man rested his thick fatty legs on the old rusty brown desk in the middle of the cramped office-like room.

Moments later, a man around the age of forty rushed in the nasty room and walked towards his boss with panicked eyes.

" murder wasn't on today's agenda, you know? " The old man kept puffing out the grey stench out of his mouth.

" I k-know sir " The man replayed with a trembling.

" So, How did it go? " He asked not showing a glimpse of emotion.

" I-it was a failure s-sir " He gulped.

" Ugh, How unfortunate" The old man smashed the lightened up stick into the ashtray.

" Now, on a scale of one to ten, how bad do you want your death to be? "Getting his fatty leg of the rusty brown desk.

" s-sir p-please i " He stuttered and tears was nearly slipping out of his eyes.

" choose your last words wisely mutt " Sneered the old man while flashing his dirty jaundiced-looking teeth.

 " O-one, sir " He answered, not that he had any other choice.

" This scale is not available at the moment " The old man smiled and it was a smile that would get your guts out of your mouth.

" T-two? " at this moment the man was kneeling on the ground.

" ugh, my time is precious, you know?" The old man sighed dramatically as if he cared for his so-called valuable time.

" T-ten" The man knew what the old man wanted.

The old man smiled again. " White " The old man called the young man who stood in one of the corners.

" feed him to the dogs" He ordered simply.

The man pleaded and screamed for mercy, he kicked his legs wanting the men who were dragging him down the hallway to let him go, no one cared about him pleads and cries of help, he was just a low ranked member.

The old man, Carter Collen, he is one of the small bosses of EZ mafia.

He aimed to kill Griselda Elior, knowing that she's trying to find him and the big boss.

He won't stop his wicked plan until she's dead.

" White? " White returned after his tiny mission earlier

" Yes sir " He replied with a steady strong voice that makes you shiver from toe to head. 

" Call Von " He smirked at his name, knowing that his mission will be completed with that feared man.

Being in the seem room with him makes pee yourself, his presence makes you tremble, shake and quiver.

He's the devil himself.

He doesn't fear the unknown but he desires it and it excites him in ways that you cant imagine.

He's intimidating.

People shrink and quiver by the mention of his mere name.

He loved his victims, he loves torturing them, their screams and whines please him, the blood dripping from their body satisfies him, the smell of blood is intoxicating to him, the feeling of warm blood on his fingers is amazing to him.

He so hated it when they died too soon, but he had to punish them.  

If they refused his teaching he sliced them, if they fought back he sliced deeper, the sound of the blade going into their flesh is the best o****m to him.

He had so very many fun games to play with them, so much better than all those lame horror movies.  

He wouldn't lose a wink of sleep even if he slaughtered and tortured them till death, they are worthless to him and they deserved death.

He's worse than the monster that sleeps under your bed and even the demons who are living in your head.

 He's the most cold-hearted son of a b***h you'll ever meet.

Even demons stop and tremble in his presence. 

He's a psychopath.

He's a frightening nightmare, an unpleasant dream that you will wake up panting, screaming and crying not wanting to repeat or mention it again.

Suicide is even better than meeting him.

Rumors says that he killed his whole family without even a blink of an eye.

He will hunt you even in your grave.

That's Von to you.

The one who's thirsty for blood.

The psychopath.

The one who would be smiling at you in the morning, and the one who will have your limbs in pieces.

A Hitman he is.

The one who made the US fell deep into chaos, The one who makes you look behind your back every two seconds.

No one knows his name.

No one knows his face.

To some people, he's a legend.

And to others, he's even worse than Lucifer himself.

Vog, His right-hand man is not even better than him.

Fights, murders and spiking up an ignite of trouble is his hobby, he loves the scenes that occur in front of his eyes.

Tingles and twitters are all he feels when the action unfolds itself in front of him.

Blood wakes up his brain, a smile grows of its own accord, it's the most fun thing in his world.

He feels giddy with excitement when he sees blood, and is there to ignite it more and more.

Stealing, hacking and invading are his favorites.

He loved seeing people losing their s**t, he loved seeing them panicked and in fear, playing with people's emotions is hilarious and entertaining to him. 

Vog loves the feeling of the keyboard on his fingertips, he loved technology.

Those two musketeers are the hot topic of the US. 

It's what all they talk about around the country.

Their brutality and aggressiveness.

Their cruelty and ruthlessness.

Their savageness and harshness.

It all made their legs wobble and tremble out of fear, people feared them.

                                                               No one wants to face them.