There are three important rules you should live by if you want to survive in this world. First, always look over your shoulder. Second, never trust anyone. And third, always get rid of any evidence that can be traced back to you.
At least, those were the three rules that had kept me alive and out of the hands of the police for the entire duration of my career as an assassin. So far, that is.
I don't know exactly where it all started to go so horribly wrong, as I never let my guard down even an inch. As an immediate consequence of rule number two, there was no one who could have betrayed me, because there was no one who had enough information about me to pass on to the authorities. Then again, I have a habit of taking that same rule too far and thus not trusting myself either, and therefore I can't be certain I didn't make any mistakes concerning the other two rules.
Those thoughts run through my mind like barbed wire, and soon it becomes clear they won't get me out of this mess. I need to get to the bottom of this conspiracy against me, and the time to do that is running out fast.
Let's get you up to speed first: as I told you before, I'm an assassin by trade. Whenever someone, criminal mastermind or seemingly innocent CEO alike, wants to get rid of someone, they get in touch with me. I get the job done quick, I leave no trace, and so my schedule filled up quick. Of course, such a reputation can attract some unwanted attention, and so the proper aliases, disguises and the required moving around were in order.
It all worked like a charm, until, somehow, I ended up on the radar of a collective of self-proclaimed vigilantes. Personally, I would prefer to call them nutcases, but let's humour them and call them by their chosen name.
Since then, I've been determined to show them that they bit off quite a lot more than they could chew, in the hopes that they would return to their little self-righteous lives of petty crime-fighting.
I must have rubbed the gods of crime the wrong way, though, because they have been keeping up their dogged persistence for way longer than I had originally anticipated.
On the other hand, no persistence can beat the determination to survive, and so I ended up in this position: on the run, and clueless as to how my cover had been blown. But one can't truly live while running away from one's problems, and so I reached the conclusion that my only option was to strike back, right at this moment when they would least expect it.
I started my investigation fuelled only by sheer desperation. Progress was far too slow for my liking, as I traced back all my steps and all my assassinations, backwards from the moment I realised they were on to me.
Just when I began to think I was staring myself blind on the same little details over and over again, I noticed a little detail that was off. I kept tracking the trail of the little mistakes the group of vigilantes made, and the truth began to come into focus.
My cover had never been blown, so it turned out, as they had never been on to me to begin with. They had known a murderer for hire was active in their stomping grounds, and so they had set up a trap. And I have to add, they went to mighty great lengths to achieve their ultimate goal.
As I discovered slowly, and to my horror, they had ordered one of my latest hits, and they chose one of their own as the target. That's right, one of them had drawn the shortest straw, and had to be sacrificed to lure me out. Seriously though, how bad were they at being vigilantes that they had to resort to these desperate measures?
Even later, I came to the conclusion that the term "vigilante" didn't quite cover the load. After all, vigilantes wanted to make their streets, their city, a safer place. At least, I had never heard of any vigilantes nor heroes that were planning a hostile takeover.
That was the eventual goal they were working towards, anyway. From the very beginning, the purpose of their little vigilante business had been to get rid of all the criminals in the neighbourhood, so the way was clear for them to take over and thrive. Being the heroes and all that was, of course, a perfect cover for their conniving business. Yours truly, as a major player in the business of crime, has been an equally major thorn in their side, so me being next on their take-out list was only natural. Really, their only mistake was underestimating my intelligence so gravely. I would call it a rookie mistake, because honestly, how would a dumb assassin ever climb this high through the ranks?
But let's not get into their miscalculations too deeply, it's not worth our time. Of more importance, is that their negligence (or unreasonably large egos) gives me the perfect opportunity to take out this new competition in the field once and for all.
Luckily, with my expertise, devising a plan to take them all out will be a walk in the park. The only way I know how to respond to hubris like this, is with a bloodbath. Just call it the assassin's way.
