Lacuna

Chapter 1:Phantom

Jeremy felt the cold air hit his face when he opened the window. 'With all the money I spent on the damn suit, they could've made it warmer' he sighed.

The money didn't faze him anymore. Rarely did something faze him at all at that point. His closet was filled with designer clothes and he spent thousands of euros on the tiniest whims.

But money didn't bring him happiness.

He got his wealth for his dead brother, a respectable man in the French army. He may have gained money, But he lost the man who was closest to him.
He lost everything gradually.
His fiancé, his brother, and his dignity.
and then then there was nothing.

He was a wreck form that moment, and no amount of money could soften the blow. He found himself spiraling into an endless chase after distractions, doing things that were far from legal and losing his morals on the way.
He loved the thrill, the adrenaline, the rush.

He put all his time to his new hobby, achieving almost every challenge he took. He was a hitman, a murderer, leaving no evidence in his wake.

Many hated him. Even more were afraid of him. Equipped with a single handgun and a silent sniper rifle.
He didn't need more.
He was the Phantom.

Taking lives from the shadows, For a reasonable amount of cash. But the thrill was gone after a while and he got bored of being a Hitman quickly. The people that sent him were so simple minded. They didn't dare to think there was any other way but to destroy all competition. So he stopped working for other people.

He was his own boss, and he liked it that way. Maybe it didn't give him any money, but money was never a factor in his life.

He left the window, sitting at the desk and leaning back in his chair. He pulled a cigarette from the pocket of his suit and lit it with a deep sigh.

He's now 25, alive and kicking. Stealing from the rich. Robbing banks silently, or less so. Still equipped with the exact same weapons. And he loved it.

That did not change how messed up his life is. With no relationship, no family, no friends, he was in a constant state of solitude. Drinking himself to sleep every night, reminding himself how good his life used to be.

He spent 3 years killing, and robbing but for what?
Money? He doesn't care, not at all.

What's life worth with no one?

-----2017, Hereford----

I woke up, at 6:00 as usual, running today's target details in my head as I got dressed. An art gallery that just opened near east London.
Why is everyone begging to be robbed?

But there was one thing that was brought to my attention lately, as there were treasures being stolen and not by my hands. I don't mind. I have my costumers. Illegal weapons, gold, cash, paintings. They want it all.

I knew the new people around wouldn't be a threat to me. They were good, but I could see how sloppy the work is compared to mine.

'All I need is a cheesy mask and suddenly I'm a god damn professional' he rolled his eyes.
'I'll strike the gallery at night, I can't count on the fact that there are no guards. It's never that easy.'

The scotch bottle on the table was empty.
The phone rang, surprising the fuck out of me. I lazily answer as I put my suit on.

"Yes? "I asked.
There was no answer. The wanker called and didn't even respond.
"Hello? "I questioned again.
"Are you into treasure hunting?" A thick accent asked.
"Never done it. Why?"
"I have a job for you."
"Igor? If that's you, you know I'm not into really shady shit."

Ahh, Igor.

That bastard made me do shit I regret doing. That nightclub incident was still fresh in my brain.
So is transferring those Nuclear fucking warheads.
"Well, Frenchman. "The man said.
"I have a great payout of 55,000 pound."
"I was paid more being a hitman, and you know it."
"It's not about the pay. "He said after a great pause.
I finished tying my tie.
"It's about what you steal."

I grinned.
"What am I stealing then?"
"I'll see you in 3 days."
"Igor wai-"

He hung up.

Cool, it looks like I signed a job without even knowing it.
I opened my wardrobe, wondering what suit I'll wear in 3 days.
The brown one.
always the brown one.