The Dark Spider

Two

Two - Something New

Present Day. 

The Dark Spider peered into the skylight overlooking the party where the man he had to kill was supposed to be. Most of the people there were dressed in expensive clothing and were obviously rich. 

He looked for an opening where he could sneak in unnoticed. There were many guards on the border of the room and the outside walls. There were more unguarded spots than you would imagine in the most heavily guarded party in New York. If getting past the outer guards was easy, he figured the ones on the inside would be too. 

Then, the spider realized the answer was right in front of him. He located one of the less guarded areas because he didn't want to attract attention. He walked around the top of the dark roof until he spotted a tired guard who seemed to be by himself.

In a swift movement, Dark Spider jumped off the building and kicked the guard's head to the ground with a sickening crack. Next, he stole the guard's uniform and put it on. Since the guard was about the spider's size, it fit well enough. The spider made sure the uniform covered the scars on his body and headed inside. 

Nobody batted an eye when he walked straight past them. He knew most of the people Snake wanted him to kill were well known and made of money. The spider could probably ask around. And by ask around, he meant to force it out of them, but the cleanest option was using his boosted hearing.

Quickly, he checked the name and other information scribbled on the paper. The man was called Vincent Smith and he was well known globally. Killing someone who was famous world wide would be challenging, but the spider knew he could get it done.

He walked through the dimly lit halls until he reached the big doors at the end. Light and noises flooded out of the tiny slits and corners. The spider's face held no emotion as he pushed open the doors and walked in. 

He was met with the guard who was next to the doors. "Why are you here? The commander said not to leave your assigned spot." The guard's face and stance signaled he was high ranking.

"Someone else filled in. They could use more guards here," He lied. There was no emotion on his face, so nobody could tell if he was lying or telling the truth. The guard didn't fully believe him but let it go.

The blended voices filled his ears, letting him catch figments of conversations. He pushed out the ones that didn't relate to his current mission. If there was no sign of the man, he would have to find one of the workers.

"-ncent, do you have the package?" The voice was a demanding something. The package must be what the spider was looking for. He started to make his way through the midst of partygoers, trying to locate where the voice resided. 

He finally found the target in the corner arguing with someone. In the target's palm was the package that was soon to be in the hands of Snake. The package was a box roughly three inches on all sides. At the top seemed to be a blue round button that seemed to stand out against the rest of it, which was a plain white color.

"I need to take Mr. Smith. There has been a complication with his belongings." Dark Spider walked over to the target and pulled Mr. Smith away from the corner. 

Vincent Smith was a small man with a balding head. Plastered on his face was a permanent snarky grin. Mr. Smith immediately started talking to the spider. "So, where are my belongings? Or maybe you were-"

The spider stabbed the man as soon as they were out of view from people. His face held no emotion as he took the package out of the dying man's hands. He didn't bother to finish the job. The guy would probably die soon anyways. 

Suddenly, there was a strange pang in the spider's stomach. The deep empty sinking feeling was shivering down his spine. Mr. Smith's face flashed in the spider's eyes. He could remember all of the details of the now dead man choking on his own blood, eyes pleading for help. 

As the Dark Spider tried to shake the sinking feeling off, a light flashed in the corner of his eye. Someone was taking a picture of him. How had he not heard the person's footsteps. The photographer ran away and into the party when the spider turned to face him. 

The spider knew he could easily catch the person who took the picture of him, but the dead man's face kept creeping into his mind, and if he headed out there right now, there would be more evidence pointing to him and giving him more attention. 

He wiped his blood coated hands on his stretchy black pants. The sinking feeling was still there, following him as he left the building.