First, it was just...a single man. Another soldier in front of me dropped. A single bullet pierced the wrong area and made a comrade fall. Having to stand at the funeral. I didn't really feel much. It was just some guy I might have talked to once or twice while in the barracks or while I was strolling down the halls of our base. It kinda scared me a bit how little it made me feel.
another mission another day. Moving through the jungles of the north of our lands. having to deal with pirates and smugglers. Seeing people get hit by traps or succumb to the sickness in the jungle. People falling around me, one by one, second by second.
Another funeral. Just another coffin, huh?
I walked through life like nothing ever bothered me.
"You heard about first lieutenant Wheeler. He hasn't said anything about the commander's passing yet."
"Wheeler give me the creeps. No matter how many die or scream. He never twitched nor flinched. He just keeps moving forward."
I guess they couldn't stand being around me. I chose to move away from that life and then turn to mercenary work. I became a hitman and a good one at that. It doesn't require emotions or comrades to be a hitman. I moved through the shadows, using my spacial powers to infiltrate places. Using my knife skills to kill people. I became a phantom of the night, moving through shadow. I would be the last thing people saw before death. I would be the thing they heard in the dark. Sneaking and creeping.
When you thought you heard someone follow you or see someone outside your window. People would associate it with The Phantom. The darkness.
It was just another job, another mission. I was moving through the shadows, having to kill a rich noble in the east part of the country, when I walked into the halls of this building. I saw the noble already dead with a single child standing in front of him. The child would be holding a knife.
"Who's there." The kid turned toward me, staring at me. I looked at the kid and walked toward him.
"Guess that makes it simpler for me," I said. The kid looked at my approach. You looked at my approach.
"You did this, kiddo?" I asked.
"Yes." The kid said.
"You killed him?" I slid down and felt the pulse on the man. There was a stab wound to his knee, neck and throat.
"Yes." The kid answered coldly.
"Why?" I asked.
"He was my father." The kid answered. I looked at him.
"You are the son of him?" I asked.
"Yes." The kid said. There wasn't a single hint of regret or doubt in his eyes. I looked upon the father. The kid had skills. He had cut the leg to make the man kneel. cut his neck slightly to make him fall back and then stabbed his throat. Three clean moves all come together to kill him.
"Why?" I asked.
"Why?" The kid looked at me in confusion.
"Why did you kill him?" I asked.
"I don't know?" The kid looked upon the corpse of his father.
"You don't know?" I asked.
"He was doing mean things throughout the world...Isn't it justice?" The kid asked curiously. There was not a hint of despair or hatred in his eyes. There was nothing actually.
"Come," I said, standing up.
"Where?" The kid asked.
"You got skill. I will teach you how to use them properly." I said.
I spent the next couple of years honing your skills. Training you up to become a powerful hitman and mercenary. You grew to like knives more like I did. I taught you my magic and you soon grew to completely understand it fully.
"Master." The teenager said as he came walking.
"Yes?" I asked as I sat in a chair, smoking a cigar.
"We have gotten another job. Take down an oil baron in the east Sea area."
"I see," I grumbled.
"Shall I try that one on my own?" You asked.
"Yes. I think it's time for you to leave the nest." I said. You nodded and then turned around. I looked at your back as you left.
