The Promises We Keep-Part 10

Part Eight: Endgame

I turned the hospice into an abattoir. Mary’s minions all over the hospice flooded towards me in vain attempts to protect the woman who held the keys to their million-dollar paycheck, and I took great pleasure in cutting them down. I unsettled them with my grim grin of satisfaction as I shot them dead with my gun. I terrified them with hysterical laughter as I slashed and stabbed them to death with my knife or hatchet. Soon they ran. Then the slaughter began in earnest, for always in the rout does most death-dealing occur.

The gang members fled, and as they fled they panicked and fired their guns without care for who or what was in the way. The close quarters of the hospice allowed me to play to my strengths, so I hit quickly and slew swiftly before I slipped back out of sight to reposition myself. Then I did it again. I did this repeatedly until every last gang-banger slumped to my feet, dead or dying, blood spaying all over the place.
I let a couple live, because they would lead me to her. She recognized this as soon as they got to her and shot them for their incompetence. I did not immediately go after her, but instead stayed aloof for a time. I did so because I recognized that to solve this properly, I could not stop with Mary; I had to get her entire family, which mean reaching out to that place called “Morocco” somehow. I waived to one of the many machines watching me and motioned for my friend to contact me. I asked her to put forth a call to Mary’s husband, connecting me into the call and showing him what’s going on.

She did as I asked, and moments later I had both husband and wife where I wanted them.

“Hello there,” I said, as I closed in on Mary, “it’s about time we talked.”

“Who are- oh, my God.” He saw from that vast distance that I stalked his wife. “I know who you are. What are you doing?”

“Protecting mywoman from yourwoman- from you.” I said, “Because that’s what this is really about now, isn’t it? You using your wife and my friend as proxies. You’re a coward.”

I heard the gasp. That wordless expression of “What are you thinking?” came through loud and clear. Good.

“Oh yes, I had you figured as soon as I knew your role in this scheme.” I said, “You’re a bankster, and just like your wife you like your deniability- and, for you, that’s something that includes playing your wife like a sucker so you can keep your hands clean.”

I kept Mary in line of sight, but concealed from her.

“See her? She’s getting her hands dirty. Right now, the cops are on their way here to deal with a mass shooting that she brought about due to personally handling the hit on my friend. She’s got bigger balls than you do, and you’re content to let her suffer and die for your ambitions- aren’t you?”

I leveled my gun at her and took aim. I made certain to show this to this dickless wonder of a man.

“Yet, right now, I can fuck you over right good and all of your planning won’t mean shit.”

“No, wait!” he said, but I just didn’t care anymore. I fired.

The shot hit Mary in the hip. I fired again and hit the opposite leg. A third shot crippled her shooting arm. All the while, her husband could do nothing but watch.
“STOP!” he yelled, but I shot Mary one more time in her other arm- just to be certain. Then I approached her as she slumped to the floor, bleeding and helpless. I kicked away her gun, pointed mine at her head and then put my device so that Mary could hear us talk.

“Say hello to your husband, you back-stabbing bitch.”

“Help!” she said.

“She’s not dead yet, but you wire me the funds and we’ll call it a day.” I said.

“WHAT?!” they said, harmonizing.

“You heard me. A deal’s a deal. You wanted a clean get-away, and I wanted the money for the hit. You’re rid of a bothersome bitch, and I’m rid of you. Win-win, buddy-boy, just like you said. You’re not going to welsh on me now and play the Indian Giver, are you? I found you once; I can do it again.”

“John, you asshole!” she said, “You cut a deal?”

“No, honey, I-“

I shook my head in mock disbelief. “Yes, he did. Why do you think he fled as soon as you got into trouble, and took the kids with him, to a place where the government can’t touch him? Why do you think he didn’t fight harder to get you to come with him? He’s just like you, Mary. He’s got to have at least one woman on the side, probably with him right now; he’s as much of an opportunist as you are, so he’s got to keep his options open.”

I then called up an image on my device. I quickly mocked it up to appear as if the transfer of wealth went through, and then showed it to her- knowing that she’d not catch the forgery. The look on her face as she finally experienced—if it was illusory—being on the wrong end of a betrayal made me beam wide and bright; my smile could’ve lit up the room.

“DAMN YOU, JOHN! COULDN’T KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS, COULD YOU!”

I heard him stammer something, but I didn’t care to listen. Facts, at this point, couldn’t save the Creator Himself so why bother? Mary went on about the usual post-birth body adjustments and how she worked so hard to keep him satisfied and so on. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Once she finished her tirade, I piped up.

“No turning back now, pal.” I said, and I looked up at the devices that my friend used to keep an eye on all of this. I shot her an inquisitive look, and she broke in on the call to answer.

“Gotcha, suckers! Finish it, Ken.”

I executed Mary then and there, and then I hung up on her husband. Sometime later, after I did some creative editing, I made the record look like the deal was between him and one of the gangs; he got killed as revenge by Mary’s side of their family a few days later- her mother still had friends far from home.

As for my friend and I, we escaped official notice. I took her the now-abandoned home of Mary and her husband, gave it to her and she resided there until the Azure Flames consumed the Old World in its entirety. I kept my promises all right- to her as well as myself. In the years to come, that bond would become the foundation for a renewed commitment to a very old way of life. I only regret that my dear old friend could never become my most beloved wife; because of her, I became a stalker of monsters- the Father of Stalkers.