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Skar: Fourteen

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Written by   209
1 month ago

Skar: Thirteen

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

*****

He sent money.

A token, a commendation for getting past that level with ease? For being able to escape? For outsmarting him and using my brain? Or was it for all of the above? I kept gritting my teeth, clenching and unclenching my fists as I thought about the scorn and mockery behind that action. This was nothing but child's play to my enemy, who was giving me this as one would give a dig a nine for performing a trick successfully.

Bulletproof cars, eh? I thought. That was a good place to start my investigation from. The car was a Mercedes Benz AMT GT, a car that was worth over a hundred thousand dollars. I was right on the money, whoever I was up against had the funds to spare. Both the twenty-five grand paid for the job and the ten grand as my reward for escaping were nothing to him.

Money meant power, at least in most aspects. Financial power, power in the criminal underbelly of this city, there were different options, but I knew that power translated to some certain level of influence, and influence translated to popularity. I was powerful as a contract killer, having power - to a certain extent - over the life of others. I loved that feeling, being one pull of a trigger or swish of a dagger away from taking a person's life.

Having their all in my arms, that feeling of control and dominance was a high that words could not even explain.

But that aside, that power gave me some level of influence in the underworld, and thus, some popularity. Even as a character that remained underground and relatively unknown. I had a bit of popularity amongst those within that area/ Everyone knew Skar, and a few could even point out my handwork when they saw it.t that if I knew the right sources and

Not everyone could, or would, buy a Mercedes Benz AMT GT, which meant that someone somewhere knew how to buy this, and when. I just needed to know who to ask, and that was a simple matter. Every city had its newspaper and tabloids where one could get the latest news; every town had its gossip where one could get the latest gist and rumors. The criminal network had individuals that served as information banks, possessing information on the big moves that took place.

The man I knew who did that in Baltimore was someone called C3RDRIC. Our only correspondence had been via Encrochat however, he was a recluse like me who operated from the shadows. That and, of course, the fact that people like him were considered snitches in a way, and so they were in danger of being killed. C3DRIC and I only knew each other because he had employed my services to take out a hitman that was after his life.

That day, I made one of my wisest decisions - and investments - yet by asking C3DRIC not to pay me. Instead, I'd collect my reward in information one day, and he agreed to that. Somehow, I knew that I would need his services one day. All of this happened three years ago, and now was time to cash in on that favor.

A part of me knew that dealing with C3DRIC was a potential risk in itself. That we had an agreement did not really infer that he had any form of allegiance with me or solidarity with my aims and goals. For all I knew, C3DRIC could have had a personal relationship or allegiance to my unknown enemy, and this could either affect that credibility of the information he was to give me - I had no reason to believe in his integrity after all - or it could mean that my inquiry would be made known to that party, and they would know what I was planning.

Then I remembered I still had one trump card - the footage from various security and traffic cameras all over the city. I had made use of them to identify the BMW after all, and I could still use any of the available ones to track the movement of the vehicle back to wherever was its destination, or at least the place the last available camera recorded its location.

If I did that, I only had to ask vague questions to C3DRIC without divulging how much I knew, reducing my risk to the barest minimum possible. I smiled to myself. Despite all odds, I still managed to maintain control of the situation, and I was keeping up with the enemy. For now, only information gathering was necessary. The killing part would come later.

I would only have to ask him if any high-end Mercedes Cars had been bought or spotted within the city, and specify the color. Somehow, I was bound to get an answer, and even if he told the other party, it wouldn't be a problem because they already knew I had the general idea of how

I never knew how wrong these thoughts were, and how naive I was. I knew I was making progress but I forgot that the other party was working too, and working hard at that, With the advantage they had, it was only a matter of time before I got caught in another fiasco.

It took just two weeks.

*****

TO BE CONTINUED.

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