Short Story Collection

Downfall (It's the beginning of a larger work)

 The plan was simple: use the party as a way to infiltrate the building and wait until everyone was distracted to kill Jameson Freud.

The first part was the easiest. Jameson had always hosted a party on his birthday. He would invite the most important people he knew, also inviting his competitors in business to rub his wealth and popularity in their faces. That is how Malakai would blend in.

Posing as a stuck-up wealthy businessman, he dressed up in his finest suit—a red satin suit with a black dress shirt, a red tie, and black dress shoes—and was able to walk into the brick building labeled Freud & Co. without any questions or second glances. Looking around, he couldn't stop the disdained expression from showing on his face. He hated being at these types of social gatherings and would much rather be spending his time at a dingy night club, dancing with, and around, the sweaty globs of drunk and desperate people, but he had a mission to accomplish.

Malakai took a glass of champagne that was offered to him and sipped from it as he leaned against one of the many pillars in the room to look at everyone. His eyes danced around the room, spotting women in sparkly dresses sharing laughs with men in regular black suits, but he was mainly looking for where the bodyguards were positioned. He knew that most of them would be surrounding Jameson, but he wanted to make sure that the route he had planned for his escape would work. A smile worked its way onto his lips when he knew that the plan he had been making for months would be able to come to fruition. His eyes moved from the corners of the rooms and the multiple stories leading up to the roof to where Jameson stood, greeting his guests with handshakes and hand kisses to act like the gentleman Malakai knew he was not. Finishing the rest of champagne in his glass, he set it down on the closest table and walked over to Jameson.

When he got there, he didn't have to wait long to get in front of the middle-aged man. He twirled a ring around his finger, making sure to press down on the gem that was inset in the band before shaking hands with the host of the party.

"It's nice to see how prosperous you've become," Malakai whispered loud enough for only them to hear, catching Jameson's gaze, "father."

Jameson's eyes widened as his hand went limp in Malakai's hold. "You."

Malakai's fake smile turned into a genuine one riddled with mischievousness as he watched the recognition flow through his father's eyes. Feeling him try to pull his hand away, Malakai tightened his grip and kept him in place. He knew the needle would've pierced Jameson's skin by now, but he wanted to relish in this moment before the poison took effect.

"You knew this day would come soon enough. After all, every criminal starts somewhere; you were sloppy, Jameson."

"Get away from me!" Jameson yelled, yanking his hand away from his son, backing up. "Noah, arrest this man at once..." his voice trailed off, feeling the effects of the poison begin to take effect.

"Mr. Freud?" Noah, the head bodyguard, asked as he placed a hand on Jameson's shoulder, "Are you alright?"

Jameson could only nod, his vision going blurry as he lifted a shaky hand towards Malakai. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out of it—only a groan did as he collapsed to the floor.

"Mr. Freud!"

By now, the entire party was watching, stunned and horrified looks on some faces, gratified and content looks on others. Malakai was the only person who had an unreadable expression on his face; no one could discern what his problem was with the old man.

They all watched as Noah fell back with Jameson's body in his arms. The bodyguard shook his employer, trying to get him to say something to let him know that he was okay. But the poison had already done its job in a matter of seconds. Jameson suffered in agony in his last moments, dying on the main floor of his own building, killed by his own son.