Post by Stefan [GM] on Nov 30, 2010 19:15:52 GMT -7
As I looked down on him, he didn't even seem to be worth the effort.
I was standing on the roof of his father's penthouse. He was about to get busy with the whore, he picked up a few hours ago, on the balcony right below me. He still wore the same coat. The same, ugly coat, that screams pimp and stunk of daddy's money.
Nobody knew that I was here. Nobody saw it coming.
I have been shadowing Niccolo Giovanni, the youngest of three sons of Fabio Giovanni, a successful underworld boss, for the past two weeks.
I first came into contact with him in downtown, Seattle. I was but a part of the crowd. Every move was in perfect harmony with the flow of the masses around me. I was nothing but another faceless zombie in the crowd, not worth any attention.
He didn't see me walking right by him. Neither him, nor his bodyguards noticed the tiny RFID tag, I stuck to his coat. If anyone would bother to pick up the tag, they wouldn't see anything but an advertisement for some expensive clothes. Nothing but spam, easy to block, easy to ignore. Though for me it was a golden halo, a bonfire in the augmented reality, that let me trace his every step from a save distance.
I knew where he ate. I knew where he slept, where he went about his business, which was nothing more but beating up innocent vendors for money, fucking expensive whores, spending his father's money.
A spoiled child of the mob. What a waste of skin.
The contract came from my father. Who hired him I don't know and it never mattered.
After tracing his every move, getting to know his patterns, his favorite joints, his favorite love-nests, one night I followed him to this penthouse. While he was preparing his bought lover for the disappointed of her life, I was breaking through the employee entry into the high-rise. Without any noise, I made my ways up the fire escape. Without being noticed by the cameras, the sensors and bored security guards, I reached the window on the top floor hallway. I didn't need more than a food of opening to sneak out the window, using the ugly architecture of the building to climb up to the roof.
There weren't much buildings around, that were taler. I felt the wind in my face and took a deep breath. Then I turned of the AR, savored the moment before the hit for one last time, and a blade slid out of each of my forearm bracers. The edge snapping out of its sheath was the loudest noise I have made so far, but still I remained unnoticed.
He ordered his toy to turn around to slap her ass as he drove himself in and out of her. I took one step forward and without a noise I landed right behind him. Just before my feet touched the ground, my right snap-blade drove down his neck, using the force of the fall to my advantage. Then, with one strong thrust, I dug the left blade into his kidney, just to rip out the blades with full force again. He collapsed on his hooker, and before she could even turn around, I was up on the roof again, leaving nothing but a dead body and a feather behind.
He never saw it coming. They never do.
A few days later, I came to visit my father, just to find my disturbed younger sister and nothing but a bloody stump of a finger.
Claudia told me that they came a few hours ago. They beat him up, accusing him of killing their brother. Then they cut off his finger and took him with them. She was sitting in the bathroom, listening to the cruelty.
Somebody ratted on us. Somebody betrayed us.
After I managed to calm down Claudia, I turned around. I was blinded by rage, driven by revenge.
She asked me, where I was going, and I replied, that I will kill every single one of them. If my father was still alive, they surely made him suffer, and for that, or for his death, they should pay.
She commanded me to stop and listen. She said, "Now, with father gone and the Mafia against us, his resources would dry up the second anyone finds out. We would lose everything." She put her hand on my shoulder and said, "We will get our revenge, but we need to prepare, strike when the time is right and they least expect it."
I had to admit that she was right. I told her to stay low, to hide. But she was a stubborn girl.
"Desmond", she said, "you'll need me. The mob is on your trail, and their influence is strong enough that they even control the cops. You'll need someone, who keeps your trace clear. Someone who erases your data trail, your records."
She was right, again. As young as she was, she had an excellent sense for business and quite some resources outside of our father's circle of connections. I had to regain the trust of my father's partners. I had to get a lot of money and influence within the underground to get closer to my targets. I had to run the shadows, and she surely would be able to keep me covered if I needed it.
I handed her the stick with the reward for my last hit and told her to find a save place to recover. Then I turned around again.
"What are you doing now, Desmond?" she asked.
I pulled the straps on my bracers tight and checked the mechanism on the snap-blades.
What I do best.
I was standing on the roof of his father's penthouse. He was about to get busy with the whore, he picked up a few hours ago, on the balcony right below me. He still wore the same coat. The same, ugly coat, that screams pimp and stunk of daddy's money.
Nobody knew that I was here. Nobody saw it coming.
I have been shadowing Niccolo Giovanni, the youngest of three sons of Fabio Giovanni, a successful underworld boss, for the past two weeks.
I first came into contact with him in downtown, Seattle. I was but a part of the crowd. Every move was in perfect harmony with the flow of the masses around me. I was nothing but another faceless zombie in the crowd, not worth any attention.
He didn't see me walking right by him. Neither him, nor his bodyguards noticed the tiny RFID tag, I stuck to his coat. If anyone would bother to pick up the tag, they wouldn't see anything but an advertisement for some expensive clothes. Nothing but spam, easy to block, easy to ignore. Though for me it was a golden halo, a bonfire in the augmented reality, that let me trace his every step from a save distance.
I knew where he ate. I knew where he slept, where he went about his business, which was nothing more but beating up innocent vendors for money, fucking expensive whores, spending his father's money.
A spoiled child of the mob. What a waste of skin.
The contract came from my father. Who hired him I don't know and it never mattered.
After tracing his every move, getting to know his patterns, his favorite joints, his favorite love-nests, one night I followed him to this penthouse. While he was preparing his bought lover for the disappointed of her life, I was breaking through the employee entry into the high-rise. Without any noise, I made my ways up the fire escape. Without being noticed by the cameras, the sensors and bored security guards, I reached the window on the top floor hallway. I didn't need more than a food of opening to sneak out the window, using the ugly architecture of the building to climb up to the roof.
There weren't much buildings around, that were taler. I felt the wind in my face and took a deep breath. Then I turned of the AR, savored the moment before the hit for one last time, and a blade slid out of each of my forearm bracers. The edge snapping out of its sheath was the loudest noise I have made so far, but still I remained unnoticed.
He ordered his toy to turn around to slap her ass as he drove himself in and out of her. I took one step forward and without a noise I landed right behind him. Just before my feet touched the ground, my right snap-blade drove down his neck, using the force of the fall to my advantage. Then, with one strong thrust, I dug the left blade into his kidney, just to rip out the blades with full force again. He collapsed on his hooker, and before she could even turn around, I was up on the roof again, leaving nothing but a dead body and a feather behind.
He never saw it coming. They never do.
A few days later, I came to visit my father, just to find my disturbed younger sister and nothing but a bloody stump of a finger.
Claudia told me that they came a few hours ago. They beat him up, accusing him of killing their brother. Then they cut off his finger and took him with them. She was sitting in the bathroom, listening to the cruelty.
Somebody ratted on us. Somebody betrayed us.
After I managed to calm down Claudia, I turned around. I was blinded by rage, driven by revenge.
She asked me, where I was going, and I replied, that I will kill every single one of them. If my father was still alive, they surely made him suffer, and for that, or for his death, they should pay.
She commanded me to stop and listen. She said, "Now, with father gone and the Mafia against us, his resources would dry up the second anyone finds out. We would lose everything." She put her hand on my shoulder and said, "We will get our revenge, but we need to prepare, strike when the time is right and they least expect it."
I had to admit that she was right. I told her to stay low, to hide. But she was a stubborn girl.
"Desmond", she said, "you'll need me. The mob is on your trail, and their influence is strong enough that they even control the cops. You'll need someone, who keeps your trace clear. Someone who erases your data trail, your records."
She was right, again. As young as she was, she had an excellent sense for business and quite some resources outside of our father's circle of connections. I had to regain the trust of my father's partners. I had to get a lot of money and influence within the underground to get closer to my targets. I had to run the shadows, and she surely would be able to keep me covered if I needed it.
I handed her the stick with the reward for my last hit and told her to find a save place to recover. Then I turned around again.
"What are you doing now, Desmond?" she asked.
I pulled the straps on my bracers tight and checked the mechanism on the snap-blades.
What I do best.