The Reaper

•Chapter 2•

Do you know what a gun for hire is? Somebody who will be paid to do whatever their client wishes for. Somebody who will perform background checks to dig up dirt, somebody who will steal luxurious items or even in extremities: kill for the money. The higher the demand, the higher the pay.

The Reaper was and is infamous among those in status for empowering or dethroning. If you manage to hire him, it's ultimately checkmate. A trump card used by those in authority in their eternal game of chess.

The Reaper was undisclosed knowledge and to be privately handled by the police force. But recently leaked to the public from an unknown news channel, followed by various articles which attempted to steal the spotlight. Now every media company is craving to uncover new information on him, but nothing is to be found. Just another professional at work.

That is why I am determined to make him my breakthrough. Although, I'm just a small reporter, working for a rookie company; but I'm certain that reporting on The Reaper will be The Bulletin Media's biggest scoop yet!
The primary issue is, there is no way to contact him, to hire is a hefty price alone; that is if you manage to communicate with him. Never mind persuading him to do your bidding, and it just so happens that I'm living with little money to persuade with to my name. Maybe if -

My train of thought was cut short when I aggressively collided with a fellow pedestrian on the high street. "Mon Dieu! I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention and-" Rushing to convince the stranger of my sincerity, I found it odd they seemed fairly unbothered from our harsh impact. I tried to look at their face, but they simply nodded their capped head and chuckled heartily, before strolling away and admiring the blooming flowers in the market stalls.
What a nice person, we certainly need more of them in the world.

Eventually arriving at work, which was a small building on the corner of the street, I made my way inside and greeted my colleagues. Handing my own team a cup of Costa coffee, which I had to buy since I lost the bet yesterday, only to see a look of dissatisfaction from my all time rival. "Costa? Alora, You know I prefer Starbucks!" Whining like a baby, Felix frowned intensely at his cup, as though if he looked hard enough it would explode (Which unfortunately for him, it didn't), "Well, it's a shame you teased me after I lost the bet yesterday, isn't it?" I exclaimed pettily, examining my nails and providing a sarcastic hair flick. "Stop ruffling each other's feathers, you two! and thank you for the coffee, Alora." Mrs Johnston offered me her famous warm smile, she was always such a lovely lady and could defuse any heated situation effortlessly. She took a sip from her Starbucks latte, earning a longing sigh from Felix, which- might I add- made me grin in victory. Everyone in the reporting department treated Mrs Johnston with high respect, purely because she was such a gentle lady- who looked young for her age.

"Right, Calmez-Vous maintenant! Enough chit chat! Get to work now, we can't waste any more time. We have a deadline for the end of the Fortnight and we need to get our viewer count up! So, I suggest you all start researching a juicy topic for a bonus, so shoo! Shoo!" My boss, Mr Bernard, flicked his hands, as if he was shooing away pigeons from the side walk. All the employees scurried away, retreating to their tables. My team of 3 sat down at our little hub—as I liked to call it— to get our heads stuck down, "Are you still reporting on that Reaper guy that was on the news, Alora?" Felix inquired with a slight cheeky tone, leaning over to peer at my computer screen from his desk. "Oui, I think it'll really get me somewhere. "Grinning, I typed away at my keyboard, trying to gather as much information as I could. "Well I wish you the best of luck! I'm not quite sure what I'm reporting on yet, so I'm envious to say the least." Mrs Johnston exclaimed, accompanied by her heavy French accent. Usually, when I'm beginning to get close to someone, I will ask them to speak in English with me- as French isn't my strong suit. Clearly. My eyes glance around and everyone is buried into their computer screens. Alas, work calls.

Tick. Tick. Tick. I groaned and looked at the clock, hours had past and I hadn't gotten anywhere! Why was there nothing on this guy, nothing! I could dig and dig, but all my shovel would hit was a firm boulder. Frustratingly rubbing my hands across my face, I slammed my head on my desk- gaining a few side eyes from numerous people in the room. "Bonté, my dear! You're going to hurt yourself now. Take a break and have a little stroll on the roof of the building, you need to refresh your mind, it's fuzzy!" Mrs Johnston stroked my head which was implanted into my desk, taking a moment to think- I opted for complying to her words, "Actually, I think I will. Merci, Mrs J!" Smiling, I headed for the doors to the rooftop and climbed the endless set of stairs.

The afternoon breeze caressed my face as I held the banister at the edge of the rooftop. The honking of the cars and inaudible chatter of the citizens below was distant in the background. My thumb picked at the chipping black paint coating the metal fence as I leaned back and gazed at the sky wistfully. Trusting the banister with my body weight and inhaling deeply, closing off my sight to clear my head.

Click. Click. Click.

Snapping my eyes open, I flicked my head around, my hair following sharply after.
What was that?

There was nothing around, just the bland concrete roofs of the French buildings surrounding me. A sudden silence fell upon the rooftop. I suppose Mrs Johnston was right, I did need a break...

Sitting back down at the hub with newly acquainted snacks, derived from the vending machine which stole all of my change throughout the week, I hopped back into office chair, slapping away the sly hand reaching for my snacks, the attacker being Felix, my prime enemy himself. I had to be prepared to defend my treasure at all times. Spinning around in my chair, dropping some peanuts into my mouth in a celebratory manner. I leaned back into my computer screen. There had to be something on The Reaper somewhere, there just had to be. It's the Internet!

Scrolling through the media, I clicked on anything which could be related to the infamous criminal, website after website, link after link, image after image. It had taken its time, but I finally came across a promising social media post, dating back a year or so ago. It was written by an anonymous source, which wasn't reassuring, but it was all I had- so I gave it a shot.

I have a confession. I can't keep this to myself any longer, I need to get this off of my chest. I don't think anyone will believe me, I wouldn't blame you. But I was once a client of The Reaper. I hired him to cover up my affair I had recently had at the time, I know what you're thinking, I'm not proud of it either and I certainly don't have an excuse for cheating on my significant other. That's why I did what I did that night, to cover it up. I'm a wealthy man with my own successful business you see, so I couldn't risk losing my reputation over a regretful scandal like this one.

I had used confidential recourses to secure a meeting with The Reaper, which included the figure I was willing to pay for his work. However, it was immediately declined and followed by an email exclaiming that he will not meet in person, but will continue to converse through online communication. Not that I was complaining, I'd rather keep my identity anonymous after all, being rather embarrassed for my actions. After a few short emails back and forth, the deal was secured and he stated that he would rid of all possible evidence of my affair. With that sorted, I could sleep like a baby.

It wasn't until a few days later, I received an unexpected email from you know who, stating that there was some unfortunate complications involving our deal and he had compensated me back for what I had paid. Followed by an apology for the loss of my brother, his reasoning being "Your brother was unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time". As anyone would be, I was extremely confused and scared out of my mind. Just after that, I got a phone call from my mother, who was horrified. She informed me that my brother had been found with a bullet through his head earlier this morning.

The Reaper is not to be messed with. There is no good to come from that man. I warn you now: Stay. Away.