Skar 2

Skar 1

[SP] every time you kill someone, their fatal wound shows up as a scar on your body

*****

*MATURE CONTENT WARNING*

Seeing the scar right there across my torso actually frightened me. For a second, I was confused. It was the stinging that drew me to scratch it, but then I did that a little too hard and then it stung more, so I looked at it for the first time and I nearly died from the hyperventilation. The scar looked really familiar, so I kept on looking at it for about 10 seconds.

And then I realized that it was the scar of the fatal wound I had given the fortune teller yesterday. As I switched on the news, her name was right there in the headlines so I confirmed that I was not dreaming or hallucinating. The assassination, the injury, and…

The curse!

She did say something about a curse or cursing me at least. Something about the scars of all those I killed adorning my body. Was this what she meant? For as long as I continued to assassinate people, I’d have these scars all over my body.

As I grabbed my phone, I saw that the money had been wired into my account, but I dropped that phone and picked up the secure one for my EncroChat conversations as I opened the chat with Big Sally. But then, what was I going to tell her him/her? That some curse had begun to manifest in my life? And even if I did that, it wouldn’t be their problem, would it? They probably wouldn’t even bother to answer me.

We’d done business; I had done my part, and they had paid the money in full. Case closed.

I reconsidered the curse and shrugged it off. She was dead, and the scars could easily be hidden with a shirt. It wasn’t much of a big deal at all. The only thing that really bugged me was that for some reason, Sandra Séance had actual magical powers and saw the future, so why didn’t she avoid getting killed? More importantly, why was the curse just… underwhelming? It didn’t look like it would cause such discomfort.

To me, it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Until that evening. I had just received a lump sum of money, so to speak, and I felt a night at the club wouldn’t be such a bad idea. The Club Noir was a nice gentleman’s club anyway, and it had been long since I saw a stripper perform, and I was looking forward to a little action back home, so I put on a black jacket and went to the club.

An hour into my time spent there and I already knew that I had wasted a huge chunk of time here. I’d seen five girls perform, all having routines that I had seen once and I had no interest in whatsoever. Sure, there were horny, lecherous patrons in front – I was hypocritical to judge them as such but I never said I was perfect – who were willing to empty their pockets for those girls, but all that was on my mind was the 60 dollars I had spent so far on drinks.

Wasted, not spent actually. For how much I ‘earned’, it’d be easy for anyone to think I’d be extravagant with my expenses because I had so much to spend. I actually came from a dirt-poor home, so I already knew the value of money. And I was about to stand up and leave until she came in.

‘Felicity’ was her stage name, and her moves were out of this world. She maintained eye contact with me; I mean, the tactical assassin in me told me it was because her boss told her that the big spender at the back (me) was not interested in the performances so far, and eas read#y to leave.

Felicity had a raw talent to her that I hadn’t seen in a while, and there was a fire dancing in her eyes as she approached me after her routine. Actual lust or something she’d learned to do after years in the business?  I had no idea, neither was I going to judge.

“You were drilling holes into my chest during my routine,” she said, folding her arms under her bust to direct my eyes towards her ample breasts. “You’ve taken an intere4st in me, yeah?” She said stepping even closer to me, her exotic scent of perspiration mixed with perfume wafting into my nose and getting me all lightheaded.”

I held her hands and steered her towards the private booths where we could have a little privacy and fun. As soon as we entered she took off my jacket and tossed it towards the bed before pushing me into a chair. She smiled as she undid the black lace bra she was wearing, letting her perfectly shaped breasts out.

“Now you’re seeing them in person, what will you do?”

I reached out but she spanked my hand away. “Remember? Stripper Rules? No touching?”

I smiled slyly. “I thought you’d abandon protocols there. Maybe you liked me enough to do so, or maybe you’ve perfected your act?”

She grinned like the Cheshire cat. “What do you think it is?” She asked as she took off my shirt.

Then she turned pale as she stared at my chest. For a second, I froze, wondering what was wrong, before I remembered. But it was her next question that made me turn pale.

“D-do you know Sandra? Sandra Seance, the fortune teller?”

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