Julius Caesar

It was very quiet. Unnaturally so, if you ask me.

Samuel, one of Father’s men, and Ledger, my partner in all my ‘missions’, stood tall with two guns each, one in each hand, threatening five unarmed men who had accompanied our ‘target’ to an abandoned, dim-lit garage, reeking with the smell of cigarettes and burnt rubber.

Our target, according to Father, had stolen ‘very important’ documents that could cause his company -Gorj- a lot of trouble.

No surprise here, his company was quite what you’d say ‘full of shit’. Or at least that was what I thought in the beginning.

Anyway.

We needed those documents back because we’d do anything for Gorj. We’d kill for Gorj if we had to. It was my life’s ‘motto ’, as Father would put it, and I never questioned it. Not then.

Loud silence allured me. The silence following the maddening chaos of a scream, a gunshot, a car crash. That deafening, questioning silence lasted for just a few seconds before the world came crashing down full volume with the 'thud' of a body on the ground, dead.

Pretty morbid. I know.

So as I stood above our target- Ricardo- I wasn’t irritated by the silence that followed taking the upper hand of the arrangement. I was just disturbed by its timing. Because at the rate things were going, I knew I was going to get very angry.

Hmm, too bad.

"C'mon Ricards, confess ٠confess confess where those documents are?" I singsonged.

Silence, my friends, more silence.

I took a deep breath, glanced at the cigarette butts on the ground, looked at my polished, black boots, then shifted my gaze to his crumpled being moaning on the floor. I grimaced.

"Alright,” I sighed heavily and nudged him with my foot. “-those were only a few punches, and you’re already weeping, darlin’.”

Okay, I might have or haven't already lost my temper. I tried, okay?

“I will not-” He choked out with a cruel smirk.

Hear that? He was challenging me. Idiot.

I shut my eyes boredly and knelt next to him. “Say that again.”

“I will not give-” I punched him in the eye, earning myself an appreciative whistle from Ledger.

“You surely don’t think we’ll let you go,” I said with an amused smile (because that sounded funny- almost hilarious). “You surely don’t think we let people like you slip through our fingers. You can’t think you are the first one.”

He didn’t reply. He smiled.

I was losing control and needed a new strategy. Having memorised his profile, I sighed and pulled out a card I didn’t have any other choice but to pull.

“Your daughter. I will find her and-” I was then stopped by his widened eyes and hands that found my arm.

"Not her," he begged, eyes unblinking and alert.

“I will find her so very easily-” I continued, undeterred, removing my arm from his vice-like grasp. “-and I will make her pay.”

“Oh, not Sam-” He whimpered. "Please. No.”

Hm. Sam.

“So is that a yes?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “Are you-” I was then cut off by my phone ringing in my pocket. I paused and glared at my pocket- who the hell is calling now?

This couldn’t be good.

I cursed under my breath and reached for it anyway, gun still pointed at Ricardo’s head. It was William- one of Father’s men who was stationed along with a few more to watch the roads, in case anyone decided to show up.

"What?" I snapped as I listened to him pant on the phone.

"They’re coming-" He breathed, and I furrowed my eyebrows.

"What? Who-?” I then looked down to find Ricardo, face a sickening black and blue, smiling widely at me, displaying his bloody teeth.

He thought it was funny. But, of course, it was, considering how he thought he’d be saved by his men’s arrival.

“How many?” I asked quickly, clenching my jaws, smoothly getting to my feet and cocking my head at Ledger. Ledger got the message and started quarantining the men he was threatening with Samuel away, preparing himself for another fight.

"I don’t know?” He winced. "About ten?”

"Ten men?"

"Cars."

I hung up.

“We need to leave!” I yelled orders at Ledger. “We’re taking him with us! Quickly!”

I was already pulling Ricardo up -oh, I might’ve broken his leg- when men’s shouts filled the area (which was, well, stupid because they couldn’t be stealthy enough to abuse their element of surprise).

Egomaniacal fools.

I cursed under my breath because, dammit-William-you-could’ve-called-earlier! I let go of an immobile Ricardo, knowing I could get him later and took cover behind a big, black van.

Really, this filthy garage was empty except for the vans we came in and some old, nonfunctioning, parked cars. And of course, all the homo sapiens it contained.

I watched Ricardo’s men file in before spreading out left and right as gunshots shushed the silence (if you get what I mean). I puffed out a heavy breath and kept my eyes on Ricardo, who was still sprawled on the ground, chest heaving up and down. He was still alive. Good.

Don’t get near him. Don’t get near him. Don’t get near- I chanted in my head as I kept my eyes on him.

But of course, the world isn’t a wish-granting factory. Two men, covered in black from head to toe, walked in slowly and waved their rifles around as they assessed the place. When they spotted their boss, they straightened up and marched to him. But unfortunately for them, I instinctively shot one of them in the leg, sending the other springing away, shocked and in need of cover. The victim fell next to his boss, and I smirked, taking cover.

I could see Ledger crouched behind another car and shooting at them with amusing precision. They fell one after the other in quick succession. It was funny and theatrical to watch.

My mission, right then, was to protect Ricardo. We needed him for those documents that would sue the company, as Father would say.

Reminded by my purpose, I got to my feet and shot two other guards approaching Ricardo in the knees.

It's always shoot to disable... unless I was ordered to kill.

“JULIUS!” Samuel shouted, and I looked back only to find a fist on its way to crash my face. My charming, charming face, an essential asset in tricking people when I needed to.

My face was a no-no.

I held his fist so it hovered a few inches away from my right cheek, twisted his arm, and with one quick swing, shot his leg. He fell to the ground, and I was quick to disarm him. I turned swiftly to look at Ricardo, but he was already gone.

Cursing under my breath, I moved from my position, crouching behind one car before jumping behind the next. I then spotted him, supported and ‘protected’ by four of his guards, get into a car parked in the row opposite where I was hiding.

I want a guard down, I thought. I wanted them to get distracted because I could take on three distracted men and get Ricardo for me.

So I extended my arm above the car’s trunk and aimed at the guard holding onto Ricardo’s left arm. And there it was. There was the moment that changed my life. There. It. Was.

There was I aiming and pulling the trigger when one of the men yelled ′Be careful!’. The guard I was aiming at scooted away, and my bullet flew straight through Ricardo’s head.

Yes. I killed him. And Father would be furious. And my heart would be in distress- I killed someone for no good enough reason. This was disastrous through and through.

I immediately dropped to my knees as I heard the chaos that was born from my mistake unfurl in the form of shouts and ′Abort! Abort! Abort!′. I rested my head back on the car’s trunk, spread my legs in front of me, and brought a clenched fist to my mouth. My world was torn to pieces right in front of my eyes by the action of my hands.

I couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t what I did. I didn’t waste lives. All those whom I killed before were terrible people who deserved it because they harmed Gorj. Or at least that was what Father told me when I would get worked up about it. It was what he fed my soul and what my soul had accepted.

Ricardo didn’t deserve to die. At least not yet.

I heaved myself up and staggered away from the bloody scene that had calmed as quickly as it had gone to flames when all Ricardo’s men packed their shit, took their boss back as a corpse and ran away.

I hurried to my Mustang parked outside of the garage, in the cold, crisp wind before doubling over and throwing up on the street’s damp tarmac next to it.

I then straightened up, wiped my mouth with my sleeve, removed my leather gloves with shaky fingers, and zipped up my leather jacket, pulling up its collar against the wind.

I panted, ignoring my phone that seemed to never stop ringing for the past ten minutes after Ricardo’s death. Frustrated, I kicked at my car’s tyre before slumping against the car’s front door and catching my hair in my hands. Almost immediately, a lightning bolt lit up the stark darkness that the full moon failed to illuminate.

I shuddered at the thunderclap that followed, hating the idea of getting drenched in the rain. I remember getting into the car, switching on any random radio channel and keeping it as loud as possible. Perhaps it’d be louder than my raging thoughts.

The gates opened, welcoming me into my Father’s mansion. I drove around the fountains and long strips of vegetation, illuminated by the streetlights, until I parked in front of the mansion’s open doors.

When I stepped into the huge hall, Father was sitting in the living room, on his favourite couch, a cigar between his index and middle fingers, each with a huge ring. One with a sapphire jewel and the other with a black jewel.

It was a family thing.

My thumb absently brushed my ring’s jade jewel before approaching Father despite wanting nothing more than to head up to my room and die. I stood in front of him and clenched my jaw, readying myself for his bullshit.

“He arrives.” He said to no one in particular in his strong, arrogant voice, putting out his cigar and clasping his hands.

Age didn’t seem to have any effect on my father. The sharpness in his dark, observing eyes, the strength in his jaws, and the tone of his voice all demanded fear and respect.

“What did you do this time? Did you finally prove me wrong?” He mocked our previous fight. That fight when I swore I wasn’t reckless.

This was his day.

I opened my mouth, but he put a hand up. "Wait... America!” He called one of our maids with a snap of his fingers. She was by his side in a matter of seconds. “Put on some music, please. Anything-” He commanded casually, and I clenched my fists.

He then looked at me and smiled. I envied his composure. He was always in control.

“You were saying?” He waved his hand in my direction, and I pursed my lips.

“I killed him,” I said, curling my hands into fists, barely maintaining my calm demeanour as music filled my ears.

I hate music. It is more than hate. I loathe it. My father always knew how to get to me.

“Of course you did!” He said, suddenly joyfully, and I narrowed my eyes. “Do you know where he kept the documents though?”

“Not a clue.” I was screwed, and I deserved it.

“Was that what I sent you for?” He forced a smile.

I wanted to explain how it happened, but it wasn’t going to make any difference. His anger was going to rain on me anyway.

“WE MIGHT AS WELL HAVE LOST THOSE FOREVER!” Here we go. “I should’ve never trusted you on this. You never proved to be anything but a bloody mistake carrying my bloody name!" I sighed. “Now who are we going to ask? HIS RESTING SOUL?”

This was all boring. I had heard this a hundred times before.

“I know someone who can help us.”

Father lifted his brows, then laughed a short, hard, humourless laugh. "No-” He shook his head scornfully. “You got that wrong, son. Who might help you with this. Julius, you do understand that if you don’t return those documents I’ll enjail you? You know that right?”

I looked up, surprised. I was then even more surprised by my surprise.

“Carry on.” He waved his right hand toward me.

“His daughter. Sam. That's her name.” I said slowly as I watched him process this new information that he didn't include in Ricardo’s profile.

My father looked at me, his eyes calculating something I’d never get hold of. “Hmm... his daughter.” He drawled. “But she is not supposed to get involved.”

“Tough times, tough calls.”

“Find everything about her—every little detail. Give me feedback. I want everything within forty-eight hours.”

Forty-eight hours? He was being unreasonable. I smirked nevertheless, turned, and left for my quarters.

It was spacious, with a king-sized bed, a walk-in closet, and shelves heaved down by books of different sizes and shapes. The walls were pastel green, and the lights were dim (I generally didn’t like bright light; too exposing).

I removed the gun hooked to the back of my pants, remembering how the bullet flew out of it and killed Ricardo. I sat on the bed’s edge, stared at it, and felt the anger flood from within. This anger directed at nobody but myself.

I had destroyed the lives of anyone who loved him. I was the egomaniacal fool because if I’d waited for a second, I would’ve seen the guard scoot away. If I was well hidden, no one would’ve had a clue about what I was up to.

And that was it. Guilt.

I took a deep breath and rubbed my finger across my initials at the gun’s hilt.

Now I think you deserve a proper introduction to the person you’ll be reading about because it’ll be a long story. Not very long but long enough to tell you how my life took this sharp turn ever since that bullet left my gun. How things got so unbelievably good at times and how they got overbearingly bad.

I am Julius Caesar Alexander Black. I hurt people. I killed some too. Yes, I am a murderer, but I’d like to think that I am so for all the right reasons. I had no tolerance for people and didn’t make connections with them, because I always ended up hurting them.

Because catastrophe and I were conjoined twins. People wouldn’t want to associate with me, and I didn’t blame them.

So enough of reading stories about heroes; read this one. About that one pathetic excuse of a human being. Me.