No need to know

“The CEO of Sunset Resorts and Casinos is declared dead. His body was discovered in a dump next to his night club. Behind me is the crime scene; we will try to get a better look at it but do mind viewers discretion!

Officer! Please would you mind shedding some light on the situation!? The public is truly frightened by this incident and want an answer.”

The reporter looks at the cop expectantly.

“Uh...No mam sorry-”

Before the officer could finish his statement, a man dressed in a suit pushes him aside and comes forward.

“I am the lead detective of this case. As a matter of fact, we do have information. We have decided to let the public know that there is a common variable here matched with past cases... which signifies that this is the work of a serial killer. What makes this killer distinguishable is the fact thatheplants snake bites onhisvictims, we have identified this type of snake, it is a Viper. If anyone knows somebody who possesses a Viper or has shown peculiar interest and behavior in snakes then please contact and inform the police right away,I am prohibited from providing anymore intel. Good day mam.”

The reporter’s face falters slightly as she takes the mic from the detective’s hand and concludes today’s news.

I turn off the tv with disappointment after receiving a notification of a bank transfer.

I’m not one to get mad when someone miss pronouns me butDamn. That delivered a blow to my pride. Was this too shabby of a crime to be considered a man’s work?

Last night reminded me of the delightful red-riding hood tale...except red-riding hood never left the cottage ever again. Dear CEO fell into my set trap, the one I so sublimely laid for him to lure him out of his little hole.

Let’s relive the scene, shall we?

The club sprang into complete chaos after I triggered the fire alarm, there was only 10 minutes to get my shit done and screw the f*ck out of here and back in the arms of my bed. First thing I did of course was down the tequila shot in my hand like the James bond I was because why not. Ending the gesture with an immediate strut to the entrance of the private lounge, aware of each and every person wavering in my space as I did not need a repeat of what happened in the Bahamas job where my lung cavities were almost blown out of proportion when I forgot to pay attention to the throng of people that were shoving past me on the street in a parade.

It was a close call; I had barely escaped with my life that day and as a result received a scar that has not left my body since... But hey, it has been 2 years, I was a reckless nutcracker who didn’t listen to my commander’s safety protocols. I was just a child. Am a child.

There were two men in black rushing through the entrance towards me which wasn’t a problem but was a problem because I forgot my daggers back at the penthouse. Just bloody great stella, you’re a genius. Now I was in a situation where I had to get physical in this tight dress which was very much not preferred.

“Hey, do you guys have any idea where the fire exit is, because I don’t think I’m going the right way...”

The guy on the right gave me a confused expression, the left one simply ran faster towards me as the exit was quite literally behind them with a bright exit sign. Oh well, points for trying!

My leg front kicks the first guard the moment he reaches my zone, sending him flying into his partner. The two idiots bash into each other hard, forming a temporary blockade in the middle of the narrow hallway. Damn these clubs, I swear what obsession do they have with making hallways narrow. “Sorry...oops concussion” My feet stomp on top of the human pile, not missing their heads as they try to get up, “not sorry.” It wasn’t getting physical that I was worried about, it was the dress because now it’s torn. “I literally just bought you yesterday though.”

My burner phone buzzes: “Are you done???”

My cries for my dress were short lived as I went ahead and got to the end of the torturous club narrow hallway, walking into the VIP lounge. My burner phone kept buzzing with notifications. For god’s sake, I ain’t flash.

This room was entirely different to the one I just walked out off as there was still a crowd here dancing. Perhaps the fire alarm was blurred out by the loud banging music, and no one took notice except the group of men in black at the back escorting a man in white to the near exit.

How selfish. As much as I did not care for the lives and decisions of others, since this was a pretense fire situation, my body decided to listen to its moral conscious to teach these people a lesson about loud music. I made my way to the power outlet behind the DJ stand and did what a stupid person would do, pull the plug.

The second that action registers, people finally hear the alarm and start flooding the exit. In the meantime, this had disrupted Kennedy from his escape and forced him to take a clearer route which was right next to me. How convenient. But. Yes, there is a but. He saw me pull the plug; he must have figured I was a troublemaker by now as I stopped him from leaving. It only made sense to act more troublesome.

Within the next 5 seconds I found myself bashing and falling onto Kennedy’s dirty feet.

“I I’m so sorry. I’m sorry!” I start fake bawling my eyes out.

He kneels down and holds my shoulders.

“You silly girl-” he attempts to smack me but stops halfway after I give him a full view of my pouting face.

“N- No worries. Are you ok? Miss?” He changes up quickly to instead help me up. It helps that I’ve done a masterclass in make up.

I give him an innocent pout with teared eyes, bending down more in a lean towards his face. He noticed my cleavage and stiffened, tightening his grip on my shoulders. Every cell in my body repulsed his very existence and wanted to rip his arms off, poking his eyes out with his own fingers. Instead, I battered my lashes and toned down the crying “No, Lana.” Any Lana Del Ray fans on here?

“Miss Lana, why are you crying?”

“I’m just trying to help but instead I’ve just made things difficult, I’m sorry...” my body ‘accidently’ pushes itself to his chest as he pulls me up.

He went rigid from the contact then leaned into my ear “My dear, you’re doing alright, what a brave young girl you are...Come with me, I’ll get us to safety” Oh lord, how much longer till I can kill this pedophile? A man behind him whispers something in his ear and then he smiles creepily.

“It seems there is no fire...How lucky for you...beautiful young... young lady...come.” I sniffed while nodding. It was a matter of just a minute for the CCTV footage to come back up. A minute for them to figure out that this beautiful young...young girl had plans. He directed me to a private room behind the bar. Signaling his men to go elsewhere and not bother his f*ck session. Sorry to burst your bubble, but that wasn’t going to happen.

The moment he locked the door. It took no time for my hands to grab hold of the thigh silencer and pull the trigger.

1.

Boom.

2.

Shazam b*tch.

And 3.

Say hi to my buddy Rachel in hell. You guys would make a good pair. Both manipulative scoundrels who make me nauseous at the very thought. By the way, Rachel isn’t my buddy if you haven’t caught on.

Three times is all it took for his body to plop down on the floor without a single word from him. A chuckle escaped my mouth, looking at the gunshots on his body, one in between his eyes, one in his heart and one in between his legs, gross but hear me out, at least I spared the morgue the sight of a miserable excuse for a d*ck. He should have seen this coming, it’s what he deserved after all for sex trafficking not only women but children as well and defiling them himself.

The urge to spit on his corpse exceeds itself as I have to mentally resist the action from processing through physically. The DNA could be detained and kept by the CIA, only to annoy the frick out of me again as it requires erasing, the effort of deleting my DNA from the system. It requires my time and effort which I don’t want to invest as the corpse isn’t worth it. Yay, we are making smart decisions guys.

Who knew I held such IQ abilities.

I take off my necklace and open the locket, stabbing the viper fangs into his leg. This necklace is special, not a lucky charm but rather an identity. Not too long ago, I began denting my victims with the fangs because of its potency, not knowing that later on people would call me the Viper.

I walk over to the laptop in the corner and hack into the security system, deleting all the footage of tonight’s little fiasco. Then clean the laptop, making sure I don’t leave fingerprints.

I’m supposed to be a ghost, and that I shall be. However, after taking a last glance at Kennedy...my mouth indulged in its former impulses without warning.

Good job Stella, you just undermined the effort you had put into cleaning up the scene. I try to feel some sort of remorse for going back on my decision, but the smile on my face says never as I head through the window exit and land in a dirty alley.

I take off my brunette wig, blue eye contacts and the black dress, burning it all in the trash with my lighter. How sad. The dress was a limited edition. I was left in my black tank top and shorts which were my go-to mission briefs that offered practical use after removing disguises...they mainly help me look less like I just murdered someone after spilt blood. Smart decisions people.

My Jett black hair blew with the wind while I rubbed off the blood from my tanned skin with my thumb.

My burner phone begins buzzing like a lunatic while I round the corner and sit on my bike. “Is the job done?”

“Yes. Money?” I like to cut to the chase, my head hurts when I have to exude more than 3 words to these shady clients. I doubt their goal here was to assassinate a sex trafficker/ pedophile. No, they want to assassinate a cockroach in the drug business. At the very least it had fit my requirements for a kill, which was that this person had to be of some repulse to me which was the case.

“We will wire 30 percent now, 70 percent the moment we see it on the news.” I groan at the stupid conditions. The notification of 30 percent received pops up and I turn off the phone, driving off. Whatever, these trump ass lickers will be on top of my hitwoman list if they don’t send it to me the moment the news mentions Kennedy.

I’ll be honest. I’m far from being considered a ‘good’ person. News flash, I’m a piece of bullshit. Moral kill? Just an excuse. Excuses. My whole life. Kill. Kill. Kill. Don’t screw up. I feel no guilt for my actions...that’s a lie. I’ve learnt to not feel guilty for my actions. That’s better.

~~~~~

It’s been 9 months since my ‘death’ tragically took place during a Black Mothra mission in Iceland. It was one of those moments where I had a choice. To either pull the parachute or keep falling.

I chose gravity. Smart decisions guys.

To be continued...

Hope you liked that chapter. Share your reaction in the comments :D

-Love Carmen’s Shadow