Alek

Chapter 1: Mae Kazimi

Chapter 1: Mae Kazimi

The HIT Network wants death and I'm its biggest supplier.

It's 12 AM on a Saturday night as I stand over Tom Baker, an old white businessman living in the richest part of New York. He's slumped on his new and polished desk, left hand limply dangling down the side of his table. There's blood dripping down the edge of his chair, and the cool breeze that sweeps into the room from the open window makes the smell of blood a little bit more tolerable.

The thing about The HIT Network is that it's simple. You get into the website, accept a HIT, kill your HIT, and get your money. There are a hundred things that could go wrong, of course, but when you're an assassin that is well known as Shadow on the market, the employers know better than to mess with you.

Ding!

Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I take a slow step back towards the door and away from the already rotting corpse, wrinkling my nose. My black gear is spotless of course, and the black mask on my face hides my face.

User111 would like to send you a private message.

I grin. Those types of messages always make the most money.

I click 'accept' and watch as the page loads. I'm in no rush to leave the apartment, but I want to collect my money from my latest HIT as soon as possible so I can use this week to relax and catch up with my real life. I let out a loud sigh as another ding echoes and I roll on the ends of my feet in anticipation.

User111: I have a very important HIT for you, Shadow.

I quickly reread the message before typing out a reply.

You: Tell me more.

I watch as the word 'read' pops up below my text and User111 begins to type once more.

User111: Alek Russo. I want him dead.

I frown. Alek Russo? The Alek Russo? The Alek Russo who stole two million dollars from right under my nose three years ago? The heir to the most ruthless Italian mafia? That Alek Russo?

Hell no. I don't mess with the mafia.

You: You better have a reasonable excuse for bothering me with this request.

User111: 100 million bucks are on the line, Shadow. Don't you want to know more?

Here's the thing. Money is my weakness. I like to have more, no matter how much I already have. I might be the richest person on the planet, but I don't care. I still want more. And the thing is, most people on The HIT Network must have realized this because as their HITS get more absurd, so does their money. Only a few days ago did I get a HIT request from a user, begging me to kill the president.

Like, seriously?

When I started this whole assassin thing, I was only fifteen. And naive. But that was four years ago, because I'm nineteen now, and I know more than I did then. But no matter how much I know now, if there is one thing I will never understand it's why my parents, the leaders of one of the biggest American mafia's left me on the streets as a child and never looked back. I know they know I exist. I know they know. But what I do not know is why they haven't bothered to contact me.

I mean, I know I have a brother who's a year younger than me. But, why did they keep him and leave me on the streets?

Ding!

The notification bell snaps me out of my thoughts and I look down at the messages on my phone. User111 has messaged me again.

User111: Lucky for you, the Russo family is in New York to spread their business here. It should be easy for you to take out your hit on land you're familiar with.