Emotion is something you mustn't trust. It is the driving force behind motivation, positive or negative. It is changeable, therefore, unreliable at any circumstances. Emotion will lead you to hesitation. It is not trustworthy. You must kill it before it kills you.
“Why aren't you pulling the trigger?” Maximus says. His forehead hairs cover his right eye, his left eye glaring daggers at me. Those orbs are always blue, but beneath the moon's reflection they have the shades of black.
I hear the loud sirens of police cars.
They're coming. They're near.
They will be here to capture me.
“If you came here to kill me, then kill me now!” He yells grievely. There is slight fear on his face, but he is more arrogant, more proud despite his deadly situation.
He isn't moving. Behind him is a dead end. Behind him are the cold walls of his own hotel. Here in front of Maximus Reed, I stand.
On my right hand I grip a Hitman Krugermeier 2-2 Pistol, aiming blatantly at his center head.
The clock hand is ticking.
The chance is here, perfectly fit to aim my mission.
The silver pendant shaped into a crescent moon that is now visible to his neck, suddenly dazzles my vision. It's an object that triggers my supposed to be gone emotion—the psychological disadvantage I thought I killed many years ago.
Emotion. I killed it in exchange of money.
I killed it in exchange of worth.
Now, did it come back to kill me, too?
“Where did you get that pendant?” I ask him, pressing the gun into his head. He doesn't even flinch. Sirens are drawing near to my ears. But I don't give a care. I am Cytus Code. I have no fear for such officers. They don't even give me the goosebumps. All I care now is to kill this man in front of me. “Answer me!”
He gives me a cunning laugh. So I smack him on his face. Blood gushes out from his noise. I shrink my eyes when he says, “You are in no position to ask me. You’re a beast.”
You are in no position to ask me.
Same freaking smile.
He couldn't be...
“Maximus!” A female voice yells in anxiety and we both turn our faces to the right. My eyes almost bulge out from the sockets when I realize who it is. My filthy hand that holds the gun tremble involuntarily. How can it be?
The woman is now coming to our direction. Her fast speed has caused her to drop herself from the wheelchair. Yadira Reed. She's alive? She's alive and disabled?
The shock it gave me is an opportunity for Maximus to kick me in the stomach. I cough a dead air. Maximus grabs my arm to twist it, but I am quicker than an ordinary person. I have the upperhand because I have the skills. I AM TRAINED.
I battled with him and I won back my gun.
I smack Maximus on his face using my gun. Then I kick him on his balls and he drops cursing on the ground. I kick him again and he drops on all fours. I hear Yadira's desperate cry and she's crawling towards Maximus, begging me to stop. What an ugly sight!
“Please, don't kill him,” she cries as I look into her, crawling in such wasted effort. Her emotions. So human. So weak.
But more importantly, Yadira Reed, why is she alive? She's supposed to be dead a year ago. I know it for certain. I know.
I assassinated her.
“Drop your weapon, CC!” A police officer suddenly shouts.
I quickly turn my head. They're here. Police cars are now parking to corner me, but before they all start stepping out I already run fast. A car blocks my way and someone from the inside fires a bullet towards me. I tried to dodge it but I still got hit on my gut. But I won't run away without hitting back.
I jump over the car and fire a series of bullets to four policemen, then I run fast like a thunder thief in the night. I jump over several cars on the busy street of Los Angeles, while my left hand covers the hit on my stomach, trying to stop the blood flowing out. The pain doesn't affect me. I've been used to this kind of service, to me it is like a scratch on the skin. I don’t feel it. But blood loss is annoying. If there’s something I treasure most in this world, it’s my blood. They keep me alive.
Police officers run after me. But I manage to lose them all. I know the map of the entire Los Angeles, the busy streets and names are stored in my brain in real time. It isn't hard to hide myself. It’s not hard when you’re already used to it.
The sirens are now faint to my ears. I run with so much confidence to where I am going. And then, I find it. The familiar apartment of Coreen Gonjales. I run to the backyard. With deep breathe, I break the glass windows using my Hitman gun. I jump inside, my bloody body rolling on the floor.
“What the nerve is it?” Coreen shouts as she enters the room. Broken pieces of glass are scattered on the floor, some are piercing to my masked body.
“Who are you?” She asks in awe. She looks at me with accusing eyes. But her arms are already positioned to fight. I smirk. She finally got the arms right. I taught her well.
I get up on my feet.
My legs wobble as I take off my mask, revealing my face to her.
I say, “Good evening, Coreen. Isn't it a lovely night, my dear friend?”