Young Prodigy
1) Shadow
I sat in my seat, had been here for half an hour and was losing my patience. He was suppose to be here twenty minutes ago, I always came to my destination ten minutes earlier.
The couch was real comfortable, most likely some expensive shit. Matter fact, I know it is considering that everything else in this living room expensive.
This man has European paintings, but mostly Ralph Lauren. The finest I've seen in someone's house in awhile actually. Some sculptures in his room resembled Africa, likely straight from the continent.
He's got real lovely vases, even the television on the wall is classy. Flat screen, surround sound, sixty inch television, the vision so clear that I felt like I should be able to walk right through it into another world. Seems like this guy and his family were living the good life.
The lights were off, the only little light of vision I had was from the full moon shining through his windows. He didn't have blinds over his windows, he should've though.
His open windows are what made it so easy to study him. To add on, it's easy to hear basic conversations as well. That's why Prodigy got me everything I needed for this, he made it simpler for me. But again, every job is easy for me.
The sound of keys brought excitement in my veins. I looked at the door, knowing my long wait was over. The door knob turned, opening the door.
He opened the door completely, stepped into his living slowly. He saw my figure on his couch, almost immediately. He switched the light on, I watched the man's jaw drop as he looked me in the eyes.
The man groaned, he tried catching his breathe. I couldn't tell rather he was shitting himself or having an anxiety attack. He was shook, shaking hard as he dropped the business suitcase in his hands on the ground.
I looked down at the open suitcase, paperwork of his had fallen out. He stared at me, not missing a second of my view and watched him shift his body to the right slowly, maybe approaching something for his defensive.
"How'd you get into my house?" He asked, through mumbles.
"This is real nice, marble floors?" I responded. "Are they heated, things get cold on marble floors."
"Who are you?"
"It's freezing up here, there's nothing I hate more than the cold."
"God!" The man shouted. "Would you tell me who in Christ name are you?"
"Are you Carlton Reese?"
"Yeah.." He grabbed a small box and stumbled with it as he took the weapon from inside into his hands. "Can I ask you to leave?"
"I'll leave when you're no longer breathing."
He was hoping that I'd make things easy and just kill him, or give up on it and just leave. I was hoping that he wouldn't hope for anything like that.
Usually, it's what I do.
Make things quick and simple as possible, but this time I was told to do things differently. His wife ordered my boss to do things slowly, to take my time and choke him softly. Even though I'm not exactly sure how to suffocate a man softly, his wife didn't want any blood nor a too violent death.
He was an attorney, a very wealthy and successful man. He had two children, one teenager and another is only two years old. At least I believe that's what I was told. A few years ago, I would've had sympathy for the attorney. But now, I'm so use to things that I find enough negativity about the person to ignore the positivity in them.
The attorney aimed his pistol at me after checking to see rather it was loaded or not. He was still shaking, fear filled that man from head to toe and I could tell even if I had my eyes closed. If he did pull the trigger, he'd miss me due to the constant movement in his arm.
I asked. "How cold is it outside?"
"Low twenties, by tonight it could be below zero."
"Figured, don't know how you northern people deal with this."
I turned on his television. I looked at the news reporter, reporting some rap beef going on in Compton, California. Two rappers were beefing and fighting, 90's Biggie Smalls and Tupac Shakur style.
That was long ago, didn't think rappers actually had beef like that anymore. But according to this news channel, two Compton born rappers had a gun war in New York last night.
"Are you going to kill me?" The attorney said. "Is this a robbery? If so, take everything and please leave my home."
"Please, shut up."
I looked back at the news channel. The woman talked about both individual rappers, Finest and Prophecy.
Both rappers went to high school with each other before dropping out, now Prophecy is on his way to winning rap album of the year and Finest retaliated with pure jealousy and hatred.
"Please." The attorney reminded me that I was paid to kill him. "Leave my home, I've gotta family to take care of. A beautiful wife and two beautiful children."
I dismissed the news station and looked the attorney in the eye. I tried ignoring the fact that he still had that pistol in his hand, but hadn't pulled the trigger once.
It was bugging me, if you're not going to pull that trigger than why have it out in the first place. He hesitated to talk, I'm guessing he didn't want to say the wrong things to alert me.
"I've got money on me." He said. "There's no money in the house, I promise. I can call my wife, she'll give you any amount of money that you'd ask for. She's a lawyer. I can call my children, please talk to them. You can hear their sweet voices, hear the love."
I didn't reply.
"Don't you have a heart? Do you have any children's of your own?" He said, then spat on the floor. I'll give the man this, he's smart for marking his floor with DNA. He spoke with spite in his voice, so deep and in command. He spoke as if he was in charge of things. "I've got two children! Two of them! The both of them are wonderful and attend small private Catholic schools!"
I looked at my watch, confirmation of his death was due minutes ago. My palms were sweating in my leather gloves, I listened for sirens. Any sirens, that's what scared me or in better words just left me nervous. Now, the sooner I got things over with would be the better.
"They're fourteen and six years old, both of them earn straight A's on their report cards! During all four quarters! They attend Catholic schools because they deserve to be somewhere that isn't afraid of speaking about God and the Lord Jesus Christ. Do you believe in the Lord?"
"Hallelujah! Now please, shut the fuck up."
I continued watching the television, a rapper named Finest showcased the news.
"Attorney, is that you outside the courthouse with Finest?" I asked as they showed footage of Finest dodging a murder in court.
"Is this what this is about?"
"Rappers using you to get out of jail? Wow, you must be a big time lawyer. Didn't know nor think you were that famous."
"I am a man, just like you. I've studied hard and long to get to where I am now."
"Big money?"
"Hundred-thousand every now and then. I'm brilliant at getting you anything you want, I could be your personal lawyer for free."
"Don't plan on needing a lawyer any time soon."
"I'm the best there is, worldwide."
"I've never even heard of you?"
"I'm known! From Africa to Canada, I'm known!"
"Oh hot damn! Your famous, maybe I should get your autograph."
"Just let me go free, please."
I looked around his living room. So many photos of him, yet only one with his family that he talked about as if he loved them so deeply. If he did, he wouldn't be the abusive man his wife claims of him to be. He reminded me of a man who only desired for power, but now he's got none over me.
Realizing how much he's got reminded me of how much Marcie could provide for me. She's the ruler of my heart, I'd give anything to be with her.
She controls my emotions so well, as if she lives in my brain at times. She could make me angry, or make me content.
Marcie is just capable of so much like that, possibly with every man she's interested in. She showed interest in me, years ago when I was just a newbie to the game.
I was too poor for her, wasn't the rich, handsome, stunning guy she wanted. Perhaps handsome and stunning, but just not wealthy enough. Didn't have enough riches. At times, I think about if I should just kill her for toying with my emotions the way she does.
No other human being can make me feel in that way as she does, that's why I hate it. But it's there and I love her, so she's not going anywhere and neither is my feelings of her. I will get Marcie, just wait on it.
"I caught feelings for this woman, some years ago." I said to the attorney.
He groaned. "What?"
"I was talking, about a girl I met years ago. I met her in a party, run by this rich trap guy named Agostino. She wasn't wealthy herself, she wore cheap clothing but dressed her finest. I fell for her feelings, for her emotions, her heart, and everything else she has inside her."
"Son, what's the issue? Go ahead and speak what's in your brain."
"Marcie."
"Talk to me son."
"You sure?"
"Speak."
"She was with that Agostino guy, big money man, drug dealing, killer, savage guy. I still gambled though, she laughed at me in my face. Told me to touch Agostino's money before trying to speak with her."
"Money? How much?"
"Hundred million."
"That's a lot."
"I came close, real close."
"What happened?"
"A man named Agostino sent a hit on me, a woman named Kiss. She took everything I had, a year ago. Now, I've got to restart from the beginning."
"Very beginning?"
"I've got just a million dollars now in my bank, ninety-nine more to go."
"Marcie is what drives you?"
"My love for Marcie drives me to my purposes, my hate for Kiss drives my anger."
"Anger is a cancer, you've gotta rid of it. Tell me about this Kiss, the one you hate."
"I don't want to talk about that bitch."
"You shouldn't speak so much profanity towards a woman."
"She's a woman of the night, a whore."
"Like Mary Magdalene?"
"The one I love, I've been trying to get hundred million dollars in the bank since the day I met her. The whore ruined it for me."
"The one you hate is a whore and the one you love is a gold digger?"
"She's a thief, an unique scam artist and dodger. She's a bona fide criminal and flip woman."
"A thief and whore. Criminal and unrighteousness, transgressors like you?"
"I've never stolen, or scammed a man. But I've been stolen from many times, I've never been a righteous man like you either, I guess every criminals can be compared or tied together in some way of sort."
I took a picture of the attorney and sent it to Prodigy, the both of us used temporary phones. Can't be tracked, nor track anything else. Both phones will be tossed in the garbage after my mission, just a matter of time. Prodigy replied quickly, quickly as he always does. His message read, Your Funds Have Been Transferred, Good Day.
"Time for us to shake out of here." I said.
"Where are we shaking to?"
"Cold as hell outside."
"Can I grab my coat?"
"No, you can't."
"Can I grab my bible, a man needs to keep the lord with him."
"Okay, grab the bible."
He held his bible against his chest as if it was his shield, his salvation, or his bullet proof vest. He talked about how it was his very first bible, his fathers bible as well. His father first, but still looks brand spanking new. He asked me for my name.
"I don't have a name." I replied.
"You have to have a name."
"Why?"
"People need to know who to fear. How can someone be afraid of something unknown with no name?"
"I don't need a name."
"What if Jesus didn't have a name? What if Satan didn't have a name? Everyone must have a name, rather it's good or evil. Everything is named, rather it's hated or beloved." He looked at me. "You need to stop the wrong your doing, stop while you can before it's too late."
"Hopefully you can work something out with my employer, both of you have good blood with rappers that's something in common."
"I'll give you two hundred thousand dollars to let me free."
"Let's go."
"I'll give you three hundred thousand to send the hit back at him."
"You've got that here?"
"No, it's somewhere stored in a safe. I only trust one person with my safe code."
"God isn't the person, is he?"
"No, it's a person here on earth."
"Where? Who?
"Do we have a deal?"
He's really smart, attempting to bribe me to save his life. "I would never double cross my client, or boss."
"You're going to kill me?"
"Yes."
"The wrong you're doing...stop doing evil while you can. Stop because one day somebody will come for you. One day what you do to other people, that will be done to you."
I ignored him.
He asked. "Why are you going to kill me?"
"Because some people deserve to die."
The anxiety attack comparison came back to the attorney again. He dropped the bible, then aimed his pistol right at me again. He fired the gun, three shots rung in the air.
One, skinning my ear and killing my hearing on my left side. Another would've blew my head off, hadn't I moved to the right. The last, completely missing like I expected the first two bullets would had.
I let out an agonizing pained yell, pulled my pistol out as well. I fired my gun just twice, both bullets went into his stomach.
He yelled, more agonizingly than I had. His yell didn't last though, neither did his heartbeat and breathing. I took a picture, sent it to my boss as ordered when the mission was over.
My phone rang.