Prologue: The Supremo

TRIGGER WARNING:

This CHAPTER may contain explicit depictions such as death, killing, self harm or suicide, sexual assault or harassment, vulgar words, swearing, and many disturbing gestures or depictions. TRIGGER WARNING shall be taken into consideration.

°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*

SHADOW

In a dimly lit room, the cold presence of an elderly businessman sipping and blowing smoke from a large brown roll of tobacco suddenly emerged. He finished a cigarette before leaving his table and took a step towards me.

Kneeling down and looking coldly at the old man before me, he must have been holding a talisman from the underworld I must say… for I could have twisted his neck in an instant if they hadn't tied my arms firmly.

He wears a slightly thin black suit with a dark gray hat over his square face. “How about…”he said then paused.“We're going to approach our small business in a way that benefits both sides. It's tantalizing, is it, huh, my rebellious boogeyman?”His remarks were enough to chill my whole system yet he followed his words with creepy high-pitched laughter. He sounded like a mad scientist who finally had brought his dreadful and disturbing experiments for decades on a breakthrough.

He let out a quick smirk then plastered a google-eye at me.“Make a good decision, kill those pesting Montefalcos, and after that, we're fine. It's fun and easy isn't it?”

This man before me is the Supremo. The man of dirty works yet known as a famous businessman across the globe. The one with whom I have been working for the past three years.

Four of his men were pointing their pistols at me; most were the Italian police pistol, Beretta 1951, which I surely guess were just smuggled overseas. Two of them were just a meter away on my knees, sticking their gazes at me, critically observing my movements, completely focused on my eye communication towards the Supremo while their sweats were continuously dripping off of their bodies.

Because they know… they know that in just a matter of seconds, I could take them down. Despite this situation where I'm on my knees and my arms are tied at my back — they're in advantage of taking me down first. However, that little move running in my head will never be going to happen. Based on Supremo's smirk, it's now a matter of what I value the most. And that's exactly what he wants me to gamble on.

I keep my gaze fixed on his wrinkled face as he smiles mischievously. I can't help but notice him playing this game over and over. The part of the game where player two is about to win but is still teasing your losing moment, which is extremely irritating. It's as if he has complete control over everything, and you are powerless to stop him or battle him to the death; even if you are the world's most skilled assassin.

“Shadow, the options are clear. But as time is running out, this scenario becomes more difficult,”he remarked, tapping my shoulder.“You must be aware that I dislike wasting my time, right? And when I get mad, I don't give anyone a chance. I won't give chance, Shadow,” he said, increasingly raising the tone of his monotonous speech.“If you choose to squander your time just in hesitation, it may turn out to be your greatest regret.”

He sat down and immediately put his feet up on his table after returning to his swivel chair. He then averted his gaze at me while awaiting my response; watching me as I stabbed him with dark, sinister eyes. I know, he enjoys viewing me in this manner, I know — taken by surprise. A malicious puppeteer is amusing himself with his helpless creation, who lacks the ability and liberty to disagree with him but must obey his every command.

Supremo asked one of his men to hand him this usual strong tobacco and light it for him. Seconds after the commanding remark was given, one of the black-clad men wielding M16 rifles who were positioned near Supremo's table briefly followed his order. As Supremo reached for his tobacco, he then began to take a swig of it then blew it mid-air before continuing talking.

“The heads of Montefalcos,” he said, then suddenly paused. He gazed back at me wearing a devious smile. “Or the heads of your beloved wife and poor twin?” The smoke exited his mouth while speaking his chilling remarks.

Montefalcos? Is he Ian Lincoln Montefalco?! Don't tell me he wants me to kill his son's best-friend — our childhood friend.

He wants me to kill Ian over my wife and son!

What are you planning for Supremo?!

I instantly sprang to my feet and tried to assault this filthy-old-devil, however, the black-clad men hastily leveled their weapons against me — unquestionably alarmed at what I am capable of. I can't help but to withdraw and hold back. “Touch even a single strand of hair, smelly old man, I will assure your death; I'll go down to hell just to kill you again after I ripped your ribs off and used it to slit your neck down to your stomach! I promise you that!”

One of his men beats me off using his pistol; smashing my head with its magazine's floor plate. It made me stumble down the floor, then he pulled me back to kneeling, then pointed his pistol against me. His trembling grip on his nine-mm pistol is evidence that he's afraid of me — afraid of the person behind the codename: Shadow.

I must have successfully threatened this Supremo's amateur goon with my icy frigid eyes. I can see hesitation in this poor young man. He might now feel bad about hitting me. After a few minutes, he reluctantly returned his attention to Supremo, but the older man's poker face was still present.

Supremo waved his hand to his men. His men then immediately lowered their guns, trying to deescalate the pressure inside this room.

“Shadow, time is running out. And remember… make wise decisions,” Supremo emphasized before letting out his devilish laugh.

°°°°°

January 12, 2004, at twelve o'clock at midnight. As I stood adjacent to Lincoln's front yard, I stared directly out the window of his room, where I could see nothing but blackness. Doubt is the single thought that can't stop racing through my head. I don't think that whatever choice I make will improve my precarious position. A choice that might ruin my life and the lives of everyone else involved.

The quick passage of the cool air embraced me like a mother whenever you experience anxiety. That evening, I made the decision to look at the moon and ask it for advice. Then I began to think back on my enjoyable times with Danica, which gave me the answers to my queries and eliminated my worries and hesitancy — I will be choosing them over Lincoln.

I crept inside Lincoln's home. This mission might proceed rather well — quietly and without great tension — after I was able to destroy their security cameras and knock off their maid in the kitchen.

Lincoln and his wife are both probably asleep. I ought to move quickly but yet in total silence. For the past three years, I've been performing this exact identical action without failing.

Knowing that I am required to murder my closest friend, however, I am powerless to resist. I'm swindling him. I am aware that this will not end nicely. “Lincoln, I apologize, but this is for my wife and twin sons. My apologies,”I murmured to myself.

When I reached the front of Lincoln's room, I took around fifteen to twenty-five seconds to lock-pick the door using a couple of paper clips. I opened the door gradually to see Lincoln soundly dozing off already. He is lying next to his wife, Iris.

As I looked around the room, I noticed another security camera. It was pointing directly in my direction. I must have shut off the breaker instead while I was on the ground floor.

I covered the security camera with a piece of cloth, then turned my attention back to Lincoln and Iris.

The clouds' rage began to thunder and reverberate all over the vicinity as I prepared to stab Lincoln in the chest. I have successfully slain Lincoln in a single blow. I brought the knife back to stab him once more as his blood began to pour from his wound.

I was unconsciously moving my arm, holding a knife, when I heard a tremendous, rumbling thunder outside. I saw a sign that perhaps the sky was so displeased in the greatest betrayal I committed. Violent winds and intense blizzards blanketed the entire area outside of the room. Before I realized it, tears were flowing all over my face.

I was standing next to his wife when she suddenly woke up and noticed my presence. I rapidly slit her neck, giving it a lengthy, deep incision, out of my sudden surprise. As I was still seeing her shocked face staring at me with her eyes open wide, my legs started to feel weak. Her hands were on the cut, applying pressure in an effort to stop the blood loss. After moving for a few seconds, she finally stopped, and ultimately passed away.

My legs gradually began to feel weaker. I turned to look at the knife I was holding; blood was still dripping from the blade's tip. When I loosened my hold on it, it dropped from my hand. I looked across at my best friend, pulling him into a bear hug as I grieved and struggled with the excruciating pain of conscience.

An infant cried out in agony. She screamed and cried, as if she knew exactly what I had done to her parents. She's inside the crib, next to the bed.

My tears never ceased falling down my cheeks. The conscience within me repeatedly stabs me in the heart. It's inversely proportional to the number of incisions I made in Lincoln's.

“What have I done?” I loudly mourn. “Why would you let me? Why?”

I heard the sirens of authorities approaching. They must have received a report of trespass or such when I had broken into Lincoln's house a quarter of an hour ago. Or maybe the maid regained her consciousness and reported my presence here.

I got up and made my way beside the baby and took a glance at her. She's mourning too; might try to tell me how evil I am. That I have killed her parents.

There are letters written on her little cloth. Even if the lights were off, I could still recognize what was written. It's... SIDNEY.