Prologue
Two large, black duffle bags sat in front of him, filled with the tools and clothing he would need in the coming days. His life was about to take a temporary diversion, one that had been in the making for a few months, the catalyst having happened years ago.
Ever since he was a kid, he was adept at planning and organizing things. He believed in creating a plan, analyzing it, reconsidering it, and then, once he was confident it was foolproof, implementing it. As a child, he was the one who got things done. Always a hard worker, some might have even called him driven. His loyalty to his family and friends was never in question. But along with being a doer, he was a thinker. And with that thoughtfulness came thoroughness. His ideas and plans were always well thought-out. Every detail had reason and purpose, and he always made sure he had every tool necessary to achieve his goal or succeed in his plan. He understood and appreciated his unique skills, and they brought him pleasure and confidence.
Now, the brilliant plan was finally complete and ready to go. It was right. It was justified. It couldn’t fail.
Lives would be sacrificed to accomplish his goal. At one time in his life, that would have been unacceptable, but no longer. Like pawns in a chess game, they had already been identified as expendable. He was satisfied with his choices. The victims he’d chosen were worthless dregs of society and would not be missed. In fact, their sacrifices would serve a greater purpose and give meaning to their pitiful lives. According to his plan—and it was a grand plan—their deaths, and the method by which they would die, were required to achieve his goal. They were not random, and would not be perceived as such. This was important. The meaning of their deaths had to be apparent.
Now, he was ready to put his grand plan in motion. Further planning wouldn’t change anything, but he worried he might lose his nerve. The plan required resolve. Hesitation could prove disastrous, and that was unacceptable. No, too much planning had gone into this, and the preparation was flawless. No time to stop now.
From its inception, it had always been his plan. His grand idea. But he needed a partner. And the girl fit in perfectly. In many ways, she was of a like mind, and from day one, she agreed to take orders from him. She would defer to him and wouldn’t argue with the details of the plan. She deferred when he said it wasn’t time yet, and she agreed when he said the time was right. He had convinced her that any deviation from the plan would end in disaster. Her lack of concentration during the planning sessions annoyed and concerned him, and he often wondered about the wisdom of picking her as a partner. When he’d told the girl the long planning sessions were complete and the time to begin had arrived, she’d flushed with excitement. The planning sessions had been tedious and repetitious, and although he’d acted like he wanted her input, he’d reacted poorly when she offered suggestions or concerns. She quickly learned to keep her mouth shut. He clearly thought she was stupid; he always had; she knew it, and she resented him for it. Admittedly, she wasn’t up to his IQ level and wasn’t nearly as imaginative or creative as he was, but she wasn’t an idiot. It angered her when he treated her like a subordinate, but she accepted his dominance as the price to pay to participate in the plan, and now that it was time to launch the mission, all his concerns about her had faded away.
And, truth be known, it was quite a plan. He seemed to have covered every detail. He even decided they should have a name, and he came up with the The Revengers. The girl would have preferred something a little more sexy but as usual, she deferred to him. Given the nature of their plan the name fit. They were punishing criminals and avenging terrible wrongs. Never mind that in doing so, they became criminals, too.
Choosing their victims turned out to be another matter altogether. There were so many potentially deserving victims, he wondered whether they should employ a lottery system and allow fate to choose. But fate might be too random, and some who might be more deserving of punishment might not be selected. So, in the end, he decided to trust his own judgement. He would be the final judge, jury, and executioner. The plan only required four or five victims to accomplish his goal. At least, that’s what he thought. When the time came, he could always select others, or he could initiate Plan B. For the unfortunate few who got chosen—well, it was just too bad. They had chosen their course in life, and now, they would pay the ultimate price for their crimes. After all, it was all for the greater good.
She watched as he inventoried and packed the duffle bags with the supplies he had collected over the last few months from different stores up and down the front range to avoid connecting any of the purchases to them. He had rolls of silver duct tape, nylon rope, hammers, a two-way radio, throwaway phones, an old baseball bat, a lock release gun, basic tools, and more. He had only selected brands that were mass-produced and sold in dozens of stores. None of these items would elicit attention when the police tried to track down their origins. When asked who bought them, a vendor would answer, “Everybody buys that brand.” He had even purchased mass-market, throwaway paper shoe covers, vinyl gloves, and hair nets. A bottle of hand sanitizer went in next, followed by the last critical item—a pair of two-way communication devices with earbuds that would provide them hands-free communication at all times, in case they were separated for any reason. He reminded her that they should wear the rubber gloves anytime they were on a mission. If they followed his instructions to the letter, then there was no chance of leaving any DNA or random clothing fibers that might implicate them. She had to give him credit because it appeared that he had thought of everything.
Satisfied, he zipped up the bags.
Nothing could go wrong now.
