A Wild Hunt (ONC 2021)

Masquerade

Angel of Death:

When we're born into this world, we don't get to choose our family. It's fates decision. Sometimes she is on point, other times hitting the mark is so far left field, you're out of the park. While I can't say I've hit the lottery on that front. It is safe to say I've won on the genetic lottery.

I'm a strong red blooded male. Well mostly red blooded.

Who by definition has a penchant for deception and destruction. It wasn't my choice to become what I am. I was lead by strong men, who taught me that if you don't take what you want in life, it will just slap you in the face.

So I am.

It's not my choice that I am standing on the door step of my grandfathers most prized possession. His most celebrated kill. Nor did I know all it's history. I don't care to know. The less I know. The better. I'm just here to do my job. A job that includes some very fine packaging. Photos don't do any justice. I'm more than curious to know what's beneath all that attitude and anger. Any male, such as myself wouldn't pass up an opportunity like this. She's definitely not my usual type. But she's female. A female with a fine figure. I've seen her videos from the gym. I'd love for her to take that anger out on me. The aggression on her pretty face. I felt it from just looking at the screen. She's a tightly wound cord just waiting to be sprung.

I have no problem with pulling it.

But that's not all I'm here to do. I can't let my attraction to her cloud my judgment. I never have. I don't break the rules, but I might bend them. I would be lying if I said I didn't want to taste what she has to offer. The door finally opens. It's the eldest son, who looks like he's on his last leg. Bloodshot eyes, dark circles, I can see a hangover from a mile away. I'd drink too if I was in his shoes. It's not everyday that learn your own grandfather is tied to the underworld of the dead. I've always hated that word. It doesn't quite live up to our full potential. There were plenty of other words in the dictionary that can describe what we do more.

Murder. Transit. Death. Money. Murder. Loyalty. Death.

Anyway, you get the picture. We didn't get this way by choice. No, we're born into it. When I was a kid I wanted to be Martha Kent's son. I wanted to save the world not ruin it. Who wouldn't want to be Superman? It's a ridiculous notion. But then I grew up in the hands of some evil beings who were once part of the
most hated crime families in North America and the men who ran them.

But I have a reputation to uphold. A part to play. It's too bad the real Lucas Moss has to die. He is a pretty good chap. But he can't live much longer while I'm breathing. It's strange to meet someone who has your exact face. There are differences but so minor that no one could really tell. Lucas or Lucky as his family and friends call him has no problem getting women. Neither do I for that matter. The only problem I have with this job, is laying low until the right time. It's funny how the HBI agents think they have everything under control. One in particular.

Ramsey Gallagher. Or Muse as his friends call him.

I'll admit what happened to his pregnant wife was oddly unsatisfactory but his descent into madness made her death worth it. He's going to be the icing on the cake. I'm going to make my family proud. I'll take down his target first and make him watch. He'll love it. I know I will.

Let's start with the brother and see just how far I can take my little masquerade.