[SP] every time you kill someone, their fatal wound shows up as a scar on your body.
*****
After I had made the spur-of-the-moment decision to finish Prescott off in his home, mostly because I was feeling cocky and insulted, I realized how much of a herculean task it was going to be. Sigma was in the intensive care unit because of the accident he was involved in, which was somehow orchestrated by Prescott within minutes of sighting him. If that was anything to go by, it meant that getting close to him was playing with fire, and there was no assurance that I would come out of it unscathed.
Either way, I knew that the home method was by far the most convenient for me, even though it was easily predictable. We had both spoken to sting the other’s ego, and a bruised ego was likely to make rash decisions to spite the other party. It wouldn’t take a genius to predict that I’d try to get him at his house to add more insult to injury, and there was such a thing as a home advantage since it WAS his domain. I couldn’t step carelessly, especially not with this guy as my opponent.
The first thing I needed was an idea of the general layout of the homes. The floor plan, all that stuff. That information wasn’t going to be a hassle to find, since most of that stuff could be readily found on the internet. Sometimes I thought about much of the information which was left public on the web could be used for criminal purposes, but then they didn’t know that was possible either.
 I grinned as I remembered that even though Sigma was now useless, he had done his part well. They were about six different house designs within the estate, and since he had driven around a bit, the security cameras had captured all six of these designs. So when I looked at the six design models listed, I knew the one Nathan Prescott’s house was modeled after.
The Emperor Model. Of course. It was no surprise, seeing the kind of arrogant, conceited person Prescott was. He had the utmost confidence in his money and did not hesitate to show off that weakness of his. It would be fun to kill him right there in his house, surrounded by all the riches that could not save his life. Would I use a knife? Or acid? Or fire? What means would best capture the despair in his eyes? What means would capture the hopelessness in his voice as he choked back tears while begging for his life? Or the damning aura around him when he discovered that just like any other person, he bled red?
Those thoughts had me looking like a crazed individual as I thought of how to enter the estate without looking suspicious. I thought Sigma had done a good job, but he got caught. It was then, while I was thinking, that the notification pooped up. I had set a Google Filter to show me news developing in the area where Scarlet Estate was situated, and this time, I hit the jackpot.
I did not believe in luck, but I could admit that the stars and universe had aligned in my favor, or however, those hippy freaks said this nonsense. There was a movie being shot in the Estate the next day, and it was going to be a blockbuster, from the information that was being leaked. I smiled at this opportunity.
If I positioned myself well, I had a chance to be inside the estate and do all I needed to do, which involved mostly scouting. I also needed a lot of tools, and I had to consider a lot of factors. The estate security would be on guard because of the nature of tomorrow’s events, so I couldn’t assume that everyone would be so preoccupied with the shoot that they would easily miss by breaking.
My well-laid plan started the next morning. I arrived at the production studio before time, blending in with the workers and quickly noting who and who were supposed to be among the crew, and I knew who I was going to replace. A sucker named Toby looked like he had never had anything going for him in life, and it was certainly not about to get any better.
I grabbed the needle, fitted it on the syringe, flicked it twice, and emptied the contents in his neck before he could turn and realize what was happening. I then dragged his body into the rented car I brought, laid him across the backseat, and locked the car. He would be out for about seven hours, which was more than enough time for me to achieve what I wanted to do.
On these production sets, most of them never really knew each other. With the required prosthetics, I could blend in. Toby was just part of the filming crew, and the scene in question was a car chase. I put on my prosthetics, and I was already familiar with the job and with the things that went on, having done some eleventh-hour research the previous day.
I also knew what Prescott’s schedule was going to be like, seeing as the London Fashion Week was in two weeks, it was more than likely that he would be anywhere but home. Not that it mattered
I was going to draw the ‘first blood’ that day, and I was sure of it.
*****
TO BE CONTINUED.
Thanks for Reading.
