[SP] every time you kill someone, their fatal wound shows up as a scar on your body.
*****
I didn't know exactly what to do for a while. I wasn't sure I had made the best decision by choosing to lead an offensive, but the prospects of a possible escape weren't so realistic the more I looked at it. There could be reinforcements downstairs for all I knew, and that would make the situation more of a pinch.
I also wanted to avoid causing a racket and drawing any attention to myself. A shootout or a confrontation would mean that I'd heat things and make Baltimore too uncomfortable for me to continue what I aimed to do here - trying to gather enough funds to facilitate a nice, rewarding retirement. A shootout would make the whole scene too hot to operate, and if I was to move again without securing any money, I'd be losing.
I changed clothes and called the police while stashing my gun away. There was a smarter way to do things, and I knew what that way was. All it involved were a fake mustache, a pair of tinted eyeglasses, a police uniform - which I had changed into - and a bit of acting. I had the confidence and the prosthetics required for that. I walked down the stairs and burst out on the floor below mine, where the men were on currently.
They flinched a bit when they saw me, but they steeled after a while and then the guy who seemed to be their leader walked up to me, flashing a badge.
"Hi there. No need to get yourself all worked up over nothing now, we're just searching for someone. We're not causing a ruckus here or anything," he laughed, approaching me."
"Heh, I'll be the judge of that, I said, snatching the badge from his hands and pretending to peruse it. "In the meantime, I'd like to see some ID. Something feels...off about your badge here."
By now some residents were beginning to peek out of their rooms, and I noted that with a half-smile on my face. I didn't know much about what their instructions were - I couldn't - but I knew that they were not supposed to cause any commotion, That would only increase the likelihood of things being linked to whoever was the boss of the whole shebang. For that reason, they could not open fire, even though I saw some of their hands stealthily drift towards their waists.
"Ever heard of something called jurisdiction, officer?" the man said with a sneer. "It's what is in place to ensure that small fry like you don't interfere with a crucial investigation. You'd be better off controlling traffic or catching a thief that's stealing old ladies' purses in my opinion, so you better run along and let us do our job."
I laughed inwardly as I considered te=heir almost perfect rendition of what several movies and series had told them. I was aware of the jurisdiction squabbles between the FBI, Police, CIA, and others. They were obviously trying to play me into thinking that they were the real deal and just get me off their backs, but I knew that I still had to stall for a little bit. At least until the police came.
"That's a good one, but I still insist on seeing those IDs. I was called here by some residents who felt suspicious about your intentions and credibility here. I could either call for reinforcements or you could just hand over your ID and make things easier for both of us..."
He sneered and whipped out his ID. It was fake obviously, but I looked at it briefly before handing it back to him. "You see? Easy peasy. Now enjoy your day and try not to inconvenience anyone."
I walked off back into the staircase before bringing out my phone and opening the camera feed. Sure enough, the police cars were pulling up. Changing clothes, I walked outside, past the officers, and straight into the Van. Some genius left the keys in the ignition, so I drove off with the car and left it in a Parking Lot before getting my EncroChat custom phone.
I had enlisted the services of Sigma to search Scarlet Estate, looking for the houses with Mercedes Cars parked in the driveway. I had a feeling that the car would be in a garage, but in the event that it was outside, I wanted to be able to know. I fitted the car with secret cameras and left it there for Sigma to pick up and use.
The pay was 2two thousand dollars. I was now the one requiring the services of a third party, and I was spending some good money, but I knew it'd all be worth it when I got rid of the little problem that this opponent had come to pose.
Getting back to my apartment, I could see the police rounding up all the fake detectives. They had acted as I wanted and come with force, and I was sure that the assassins were trying to avoid an altercation that would now up, so they didn't resist arrest. A lot of guns were being taken from them.
I smiled. How much would the b*stard send me now, if he realized what I had just done?
*****
TO BE CONTINUED
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