The Story of Blood and Roses

I sat in front of the television watching a day-long marathon of all the episodes of Hell Girl. I had made myself some instant noodles and was enjoying the bland taste of it as I watched the show with great interest. The show had been a hit back in the day and had been inspired by a manga. I would say that I had acted out much like the female protagonist, Ai Enma, from the anime quite a few times during the last phases of a mission.

"Pitiful shadow cloaked in darkness. Thy action cause men pain and suffering. Thy hollow soul drowns in thy sins. How would you like to see what death is like?" was my favorites. I had taken great pleasure in looking into the eyes of the criminal as they heard the lowering of my voice, the cold and dead nature to it making their skin crawl and their hair stand upright in fear. I had pressed the gun to their head—right between their eyes, and looked right into their eyes, smiled and pulled the trigger when their eyes widened with fear and threatened to spill tears. The words gave me a sick sense of justice, a feeling of superiority that I had no right to feel. I might as well someday have to say the very same words to myself and pull the trigger.

It was only a matter of time until I would come up on the hit list because some wealthy enemy wanted me gone, finally... I had been quite ruthless in what I did and hadn't been the best of Machiavel. It wasn't my job to wipe out families and oppositions to retain power, I had never felt the need to do such things. And to be quite honest, that wasn't what I planned on doing, ever. I supposed that I'd left a lot of people behind who would one day or another seek revenge and come after me like I had pursued Anthony throughout my life and made his untimely death the sole purpose of my life.

It would happen eventually, and I couldn't even be surprised if it happened in a few years. It was a work hazard one had to overcome and learn to embrace. This was divine justice in a way. Reminded me of a short story about some man who had murdered a woman by bashing her head in with a hammer and had produced his twin brother in court during the trial. One of those two had died right after being announced innocent and justice was, in a twisted way, served. Who the killer was, no one knew. But the ending was relevant.

Justice would always be served.

How would I be murdered? How would justice be served in my case? I had no one that could be hurt to make me feel hurt, so it had to be me. Would I have to kill myself?

And even though I wasn't sure that there was a God or anything up there looking at me, I wished that I would be able to fulfill my mission before I was finished off.

And then I went on to wonder why I was thinking about all of it when I was missing out on some perfectly genius minutes of the episodes of Hell Girl.

I shook my head to clear it and went back to watching the show.

.

Three more days had passed since Ethan's visit. I was enjoying my time at home and taking great pleasure in catching up to the finer pleasures of life... such as bubble baths. On the other hand, I was a bit distressed about how long this vacation was going to go on for. My body was itching for some action and the only way I could scratch that itch was by doing the job that I was sent to do.

My curiosity had led me to further my research and search for more about the locations of all the storehouses that Anthony controlled and others under the name of the heads. I calculate the profits that Anthony gained from Poseidon's Realm and did some accounting to figure out how much everyone in the mob was making for a living. They were earning a lot. Most of the members lived in the posh areas of the city and some in other cities.

Seemingly pleased with my discoveries, I had let the research go but had continuously wondered about if I could find out about the person who owned the place that had the shipments stashed away.

I took time in finding out more about Darcy and his arms. I didn't need to do any particular research because I had always admired Luke Darcy as a criminal and written a paper on him while I was in training. The paper consisted of several details and fractures in the system that Darcy had employed in his mob and how one could easily infiltrate it and extract information or slowly destroy it from within. That was the paper that had made me a hit and a prime candidate for any of those extensive missions were I needed to hide out.

The problem was, I had been the one to write about these things, but not the one trusted to execute the theories that I had put down in writing. They had chosen several people over the years to try and take down Darcy. It hadn't worked. My theories, though still holding up had never been able to be executed. The brightest of agents had turned out to be incapacitated when it came to Darcy. They were easily persecuted.

In reality, there had been three in the past five years. Each and every one of them had never been seen since the day they got the job. They lost contact with the agents within a week of them entering. To the day, Darcy has not been able to figure out the source of the agents, or he would have tried to take it down. He would hunt out each and every one of us and use every torturous method he knew to inflict pain on the others. He would do it just because he could.

In a way, I was luckier to be working to extract information from Anthony. I decided that it was possible to take out Darcy through Anthony. Even though that was not part of the mission, it would be a good addition to my CV and a job well done. In addition, it would fetch me quite a beautiful some of currency as a reward and no doubt a pat on the back from everyone who had lost someone to Darcy and his wicked ways.

And yes, three days of such thoughts had resulted in me lying in my bathtub, taking a bubble bath and listening to the latest album of Coldplay. It was a funny thing. It felt like being on paid leave. But I guess that the lovely vacation wouldn't last longer by the insistent buzzing of my cell-phone. I reached out to grab it and looked at the screen.

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