Void. That was the name they gave me, the only name I'd ever known.
Since childhood I was trained for only one thing: murder.
I wasn't the only one; there were hundreds of us. All trained in the art of killing.
Those who were proficient enough in the art became agents.
Those who proved they weren't up to the task were eliminated.
Since I'm alive, it would appear I proved myself proficient.
At this point I've lost track of how many have died by my hand. Who knows? Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands?
As a child, I was frightened. Scared to step into this world, a world I was forced into by the ones who call the shots, The Delivery.
As I've grown older, now at the age of twenty-seven, I've become numb to it all. I couldn't even tell you any of their names. Not one name of my many victims.
It's all so tiring; part of me wishes for this never-ending nightmare to end. The other part of me is too scared to do anything about it.
If I were to leave this life behind, no doubt I would be disposed of by the delivery. I may be their most skilled operative, but with their resources and numbers, I wouldn't stand a chance of escaping this life.
I'm too cowardly to end it myself, living in fear of what may come afterwards. The thought of staring down a blank endless void, the thought of facing eternal damnation, and the thought of my existence being taken away from me—nothing scares me more.
On the surface I may seem rather aloof, as if nothing in the world can faze me, but my fear of death dwells within the pit of my soul.
So ending it myself seems to be a no-go. That leaves me with one more option.
Continue this life, continue in hopes someone stops me, someone does what I'm too cowardly to do and puts me down like I so desperately deserve.
I've grown so weary of this life. Will tonight be the night it's ripped away from me?
I'm currently preparing for my current mission, sitting on a plastic chair atop the roof of an abandoned factory. Sitting cross-legged, in the same clothes I always wear on my missions.
I wear an all-black attire consisting of a trench coat, a nice pair of chinos, dress shoes, and rather comfortable black gloves.
At this very moment I'm looking down at an old shipping yard and scouting out the area. My targets are all gathering here; I'm looking right now as some of them pull in.
Who are my targets? They go by the name Twelve Kings Crew. A rather notorious street gang. Murder, pimping, dealing, robbery, any crime you can think of—this crew does it.
Even if I still felt anything towards the people I killed, I feel I'd still sleep fine at night taking out a nasty bunch like these.
It looks like almost everyone's almost arrived; I'm counting a little over thirty guys at least. The sun's beginning to set off in the distance; I'd give it about five minutes before the sky is enveloped by the night. That'll be my time to step into action.
I get off my plastic chair and walk towards my tactical bag I left by an air vent. I pull out the pieces for my MXF-7 semiautomatic rifle. She's a rather old model but gets the job done.
After about a minute of assembly, I'm ready to get this mission going. I head back down into the abandoned factory and walk down its halls until I reach the front entrance.
I turn my head around, just being cautious even though I'm aware this is a relatively abandoned area of the city.
It seems the thugs were even nice enough to leave the gate to the shipyard wide open and unguarded. Works for me.
I begin crossing the empty road that divides the shipping yard and factory, a calmly paced walk. A job like this is an impossible job for most; for me... it's just another Monday.
I calmly walk past the gate and into the shipyard past various containers; I can hear a lot of them hooting and hollering not too far away deeper into the labyrinth of shipping containers.
"Hey, bitch. Who the hell are you? I haven't seen your face around here before, punk," says one of the gang members as he pops out of the shadows behind one of the shipping containers.
He slowly walks out, his gun aimed directly at my head. He keeps walking until his gun is pressed against my skull.
"Earlier today I grabbed myself a dragon fruit from a corner produce shop. It was positively delicious. Have you ever tried dragon fruit before?" I say in a calm tone, not flinching in the slightest with his gun pressed on me.
The gang member gives me a puzzled look for a split second. In that moment, I quickly kick him in the shin, causing him to flinch. Allowing me to smack him in the head with my rifle, which causes him to stumble backward slightly. I then leap at him and, while holding the rifle in my left hand, stab him straight in the neck with a pocket knife I keep hidden in my right sleeve.
The man falls to the ground, and within moments I watch the light fade from his eyes as he bleeds out. I suppose that's one down.
I run into no more problems as I maneuver my way towards the area where the rest of the gang appear to be gathered. I stealthily sneak atop the shipping containers and score myself a good vantage point.
It seems they're all gathered around a bonfire in the center of the yard. They're all drinking and look to be having some kind of fun. Looks like I'll have to cut whatever they're celebrating short.
After a few moments of keeping track and noting all their positions, I begin my attack.
I open fire on them, aiming at them one at a time and gunning them down with precise accuracy.
One after another falls; at first they begin to panic and scatter. One of them eventually spots my position and begins firing towards me on top of the containers as I look down at them.
Seems like a good time to make a tactical retreat. I stand up, dodging bullet fire as I leap off the container and back into the maze of shipping containers.
By my count, I gunned down about half of them before they spotted me. Looks like I'm making good progress on this job's completion.
I run around the various crates, staying in the cover of darkness as the gang runs around looking for me. Anytime one of them comes close enough, I gun them down.
One after another I gun them down; it's a bloody massacre. By my count there should only be about three left.
As I turn the corner, one of them spots me and opens fire. I try shooting him, but my rifle is jammed. One bullet grazes my shoulder ever so slightly as I run for cover. I sprint into the darkness as I toss my rifle behind. The man gives chase.
As I turn another corner, I'm spotted by another one of them. I sprint at top speed as they chase after me, trying to gun me down. I notice a pistol a few inches away from the corpse of one of their guys. I quickly scoop it up as I turn the corner and hide behind a shipping container as the two gang members corner me.
I check the chamber; there are three bullets left. Best make them count. I burst out of the corner, and I fire at them in a quick fashion. I shoot the one on the left in the head, and on the right one I land a shot to the gut that sends him falling back. Those were my three bullets gone.
The left one is resting in peace, but our gutshot victim is still alive and slowly crawling towards his pistol. I calmly walk up to him, and before he can make it, I stomp on his neck and press down until I hear a snap. The last noise to come out of him is cries of pain.
I walk towards the pistol he was reaching for and pick it up. Before I can even have a moment to catch my breath, the final member of the gang, and the most physically intimidating one at that, appears from around the corner aiming his gun at me. I aim mine right back, but neither of us fires.
"You killed my boys. I don't want to just shoot you; I want to beat you to death. What do you say? Shall we settle this like men?" the large gang member says to me in a rather gruff voice.
To show his seriousness in his words, he tosses his pistol aside. A rather bold move, I'll admit. I toss mine aside as well. He's rather tough-looking; maybe he'll be the one to put me out of my misery.
We rush towards each other and begin fistfighting. After less than a minute I can already tell he's not going to be the one.
He may have some powerful-looking strikes, but his movements are far too sluggish. I easily dodge every single strike. This guy isn't worth my time. As he tries landing a killer-looking haymaker on me, I circle around the brute, stomping the back of his shin, bringing him to his knees. His head is now low enough for me to grab ahold of, which I do.
"You're not worth my time." I say in a cold tone before using the knife hidden in my right sleeve to slice his neck open.
I watch as he falls and bleeds out on the ground. He squirms for a few moments before eventually fading. Looks like he wasn't the guy.
"Fuck."
Looks like I live another day. Great.
Some of his blood splattered on my sleeve. Perfect. I suppose I'll try to wipe it off. I take off back to the abandoned factory, back towards the rooftop.
I grab my tactical bag and grab a bottle of water and an old rag out. I try my best to clean out the stain and wash some of the blood that's stained my face as well.
I should probably call my handler and tell him the job is done. I'll deal with the stains later. I grab my trench coat and slip it back on. I then reach into my bag and grab my burner phone.
Before I can dial the number, however, something odd occurs. Looking on the ground, I notice strange glowing symbols appear around me.
I try to walk away from them so I can inspect them further, but I can't. Some sort of field is keeping me trapped in this weird circle that's beginning to form around me. It's as if a clear wall of energy is keeping me in place.
"What the fuck is thi—"
Before I can even finish my sentence, my entire body gets covered in light, and a feeling I can't even describe flows through every fiber of my being. What's... happening to me?