Revenant

Chapter 1

I've always noticed things other people don't. Unusual things. For instance, I was eight years old when I realized I fit the profile of a serial killer.

Oh, I wasn't wielding a bloody knife over some neighbor's decapitated dog thinking, "Wow, this is really fucked up," or anything like that. In fact, in some ways, finding out was kind of a relief, one of those 'Oh, now I get it' moments you have from time to time. When you're a kid genius wandering through childhood full of questions about the things that you're feeling, or even some of the things you're not feeling, well, the whole thing can be pretty scary. So if you stumble upon an answer that explains some of the things you do and why, it doesn't necessarily matter what that answer is, or the potential ramifications of it. Knowing is a relief, plain and simple. I would much rather know something than not.

And after spending some time looking up words like 'sociopath' and 'psychotic' in the dictionary, as well as leafing through the copy of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders that I'd stolen from some hospital therapist, I knew that, despite fitting the profile, I didn't actually want to be a serial killer. Where's the future in something like that? Most of them got caught, and half of them apparently didn't even really understand what they were doing, or why. Where was the appeal, seriously?

I mean, I had spent my whole childhood attempting to understand myself. What could I possibly have in common with those impulsive idiots who did what they did without a thought as to why? Was I really going to end up like that?

Well, I did fit the profile, didn't I?

Even the act of stealing the diagnostic book from the hospital drove home that particular point. Spur of the moment, I made up a name for the nurse at the front desk, spun some story about having left a coloring book in the therapist's office, and walked out of the hospital with the manual tucked in my knapsack without a shred of concern or regret. I cracked it open, and what did I find? The first three symptoms describing a sociopath were deceitfulness, impulsivity, and lack of remorse.

More than a little ironic I suppose, but the conclusion was hard to argue against. I definitely fit the profile.

Oh, and don't get me wrong. Even though I was a foster child, I didn't have one of those childhoods . . . the kind you hear about in the news rags. You know the ones - pre-teen boys wandering into the woods to perform 'experiments' on live squirrels, or stuffing a dog in a rucksack bag and lighting it on fire just to see what would happen. I didn't see any point in doing stuff like that. Sure, I could have done those things, and it wouldn't have bothered me all that much. But it really comes down to 'why?', when all is said and done. Would stepping on a box of mewling baby kittens make me better, or stronger? Doubtful.

I decided I wasn't going to be like that, a slave to a bunch of useless or abnormal impulses. And so, I wasn't, and I didn't do those sorts of things.

Instead, I focused on things that would make me better, and stronger. I learned everything I could about 'Antisocial personality disorder', and spent a few years trying to figure out what was broken inside of me and why. When that didn't pan out like I'd expected, I began to look at the symptoms themselves. Once I'd figured out which applied to me, I began to work on them, control them, make them less noticeable.

After a few years of doing this, I realized that some of these 'symptoms' were in fact significant assets, given the proper set of circumstances. In the right industry, a guy could go far with defects like mine.

And so, at the tender age of fourteen, I decided on a career as a hit man. I ended up becoming one of the best, made quite a name for myself, and was even invited to join an elite fellowship of assassins that scared me right down to my toes. Then, after a few years spent getting to know some of my coworkers, I decided I'd drop out of the fellowship entirely in the interests of self-preservation, change my face, fake my death, and become a nobody.