13 Murders

Faulty Sedative

“Sources report that the security breach was under the orders of the anti-government terrorist group The Fourth Alliance, run by Jonathon Archon. Archon was reportedly seen in a neighborhood a few miles North of Eveleigh Jail, where the thirteen convicted murders were held in a specially-designed murder unit. The thirteen include The Cat’s Tail murderer, Koslov Kaminski the Meat Puzzler, Amelia Newton who killed forty-three citizens in two weeks and the recently infamous Lizzie Bird, who killed an eighteen year old boy via asphyxiation only six weeks ago. The damaged families of the victims plead police to find the criminals. It is yet to be determined what the government’s action wi-“ I turn off the car radio. Listening to it makes me nervous.

It shouldn’t, because my name is no longer Lizzie Bird.

Also, they got it wrong. I’m not part of the Fourth Alliance; my agency doesn’t have a name.

If there’s no name, there’s no proof it exists.

I’m looking at my new house, the house Claudia gave me. She was there when I woke up, and she helped me change. I don’t look like Lizzie anymore, not even the Lizzie I was before I killed him. I still remember the sick sense of anxiety I had when I saw her, but I have come to realize I shouldn’t hold murder against her.

Because she didn’t hold I against me. 

My house is huge. Elizabeth Falcon is clearly rich. And she’s on a mission.

“Your job is to take down one of the agents of The Fourth Alliance, group that threatens to destroy us and the government, all of it. Here’ s the profile of the agent, Mr. Mathew Franklin a field agent that stole files from our confidential filing systems. He lives in the house opposite to yours, make sure you gain access to his house; you need to find the files, and kill him. Do you understand?” Claudia talks quickly, but I follow. I know what I have to do and I’m not keen on it.

When I get inside, which I do with as much care as possible without looking suspicious. The house is big and airy, but I don’t like it. It’s too much like Jeremy Lindens house. I don’t even bother to take my stuff up to room, instead I dump my bags at the door and beeline for the basement, where Claudia said all my briefing packages and utensils will be. I don’t know what she means by ‘utensils’, but I’m expecting something unfriendly. I run down the stairs and through the bolted iron door, opening it as quickly as I can. Inside reminds me of prison. There is a table, a table bigger than my prison cell, made of glass, with a metal box in the center. A metal box with edges so sharp that looking at them slices my eyes. There is a glass cabinet on the wall to my left, and in it is every form of rope and chain I have ever seen- and some I never knew existed. The walls are a musty white, and stained with god knows what. It looks like torture dungeon.

But I prefer being down here, because down here doesn’t look like Jeremy Linden’s house. I walk over to the table, and run my fingers across the table, looking at the box intently. There is a not on it, folded into a baseless triangle , I pick it up and unfold it.

Read and dispose of afterwards. Weekly checkups will be set up as rent inspections. Work quickly and stay low key. Make neighbor hood friends.

I place the note on the table and slide to lid off the box. Inside is a stack of paper, I read it in the basement, dreading going back upstairs. It’s all briefing, giving me information about Elizabeth Falcon and Mr. Mathew Franklin, the man that will soon be a victim.

That sounds really awful.

Shut up Lizzie, you need to stop with this sappy crap, you are Elizabeth Falcon.

And you are fearless.

So I slam the box on the table –which I might just regret slightly because I’m sort of scared of breaking it- and charge up the stairs. I throw my coat on (which has been placed for me on the coatrack next to the door. It’s hideously green, but then to most people it would bearable, it’s just that I’m not into it.