Klaus

Talk about batshit crazy things? I'm currently following a killer. I know, I should have gone to a shrink or admit myself in a psych ward the moment I heard the voices in my head or more likely when I woke up in that dark alley. I guess curiosity got the better of me. Or maybe, it's the need to do well.

One-shot it will take to kill him. Easy money.

There are better things to do, like knowing who I am. Klaus says in a paper stuffed in a wallet in my back pocket. But I can't be sure, the name holds no bearing or any emotional attachments; just plain letters that formed a word.

The smell of coffee wafts in the air, I look at the blonde waitress walking in my direction. "Thank you," I say as she sets my Americano down. The caffeine helps with the headache and I feel more alive.

The killer is sitting three tables to my right, enjoying a cup of coffee and a hefty serving of red velvet. His mind is quiet for the time being with the occasional rant about the sweetness of the cake he's eating.

His phone rings; for the past three hours I'm tailing him he had talked over the phone approximately five times. Each phone is a burner that he tosses after use, like the one he just thrown in the bin.

La Marea, Building B, third floor. He chanted repeatedly in his head like those rhyming songs little children sing in a game of skip rope. He crosses the street and I stand up, leaving my payment on the table.

I've known more about the killer than myself now. His name is Kyle Jenkins, forty-two and a father of three. He works in a printing company as the janitor but in his spare time he kills; a retired sniper in Iraq.

I mixed myself with the people on the street while Kyle walks. He stops beside a black car, looking sidewards he starts picking the lock. Not any moment longer, he climbs inside and the car starts.

I panic. He shouldn't go far from me, the connection dims when I'm far from him as the signal of a cellphone. I raise my hand in the air, a cab beckons to me.

"See that black car? Follow that," I say to the cabby, pointing at the said car.

"Are you a spook sir? I-I don't want trouble..."

I look at the man and shake my head, "No. I'm not police, just follow the damn car." In fear, the cabby starts driving. "Don't lose him, I'll pay you to double. Keep a five-car distance."

I sigh, catching sight of my reflection. I cringe; I don't even recognize myself: Tousled black hair, deep green eyes, and square jaw. Could it be possible that I'm not what I'm seeing?

I run inside the building where Kyle's stolen car stopped. I go straight to the lift before it closes in my face. "Sorry," I say getting in. My body squeezes between Kyle, no recognition in his eyes.

Stupid guy. I should shoot him. He's making me late for my appointment.

Sweat trickle down my back, my hands feel clammy and I stiffen. He got a damn gun on him. I smile at Kyle, hiding away my fear.

The number three glows and we reach the supposed destination. Kyle didn't move out, he stays rooted.

"Hey, what building is this? I think I'm lost..." I ask the lady on my right side.

"La Marea, Building A." Realization hits me; the target is in the other building.

An image pops into Kyle's head, a guy in his sixties; wrinkled face with a mop of grey hair. Fuck, it's Senator Krueger. I've seen a lot of him in the posters around the city.

I jump out of the lift the second it dings. I need to move faster before he assassinates the senator. I couldn't explain the urgency in me; I just need to do it.

"Name?" Asks the lady outside the hall of the senator's press con. I lick my lips in annoyance, unable to give her a name. I can read Kyle's mind, why the hell not her too? Shit!

Egor is running late again. We should replace him. Magically, a voice creeps into my head.

"Egor..."

"Egor Salvador? From Global?"

"Yes! Yes, my mom's Russian," I say smiling as the lady hands me my identification.

Guards sweep me before I can enter.

Inside, there's no stage or an incline; better access for me. The conference is yet to start but the senator is still nowhere in sight.

A minute passed, the emcee's voice booms, "Everyone! Let's welcome Senator Martin Krueger!" The stout figure of the senator comes into view. I manage to come closer.

A glinting of some sort can be seen in the glass window and I waste no time to grab down the senator. Three bangs echoed through the walls, one came from a tiny hole in the window.

The senator is safe. My head slumps down the floor, a pool of blood under my body. Memories bombarded my brain before I'm dragged into a dark abyss.

I'm running, I don't know how long but I'm getting tired and my chest is bleeding. "This can't be my end." The organization I trusted so long, betrayed me, hunted me.

With the energy left inside me I closed my eyes; willing my soul to get out of the body I inhabit. Successful to be out in astral, I circle the city for the perfect vessel.

In a dark alley, a guy is being beaten to a pulp. He is just barely hanging on the rope when I enter him. Too weak, I know I'll lose my memory so I pull a paper from the wallet in the guy's pocket.

Klaus, I wrote. The organization I'm going to destroy.

I will make them pay.