"Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first and is waiting for it."– Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man
Somewhere in England
It is finally fucking over. All the people that have ruined my life are dead. Things are looking up. I am on top of the world, nothing is gonna stop me now. I will see them ALL in hell! Fuck yeah! I just need to get out of the country and lay low for a few years until the heat dies down.
Grabbing my brand new computer I start searching for non-extradition countries far away from Europe. A smile lights up my face brightening the happiness I feel inside, Japan...perfect. I always wanted to learn a new language and culture.
As I am staring at the screen, dreaming of all the fun I will soon be having in Japan, a pop-up draws my attention. The headline reads: "Heir to the Black crown in critical condition at the hospital".
Wait...what? The fucker's still alive?
I shot him three...THREE times! Fuck it all! He has more lives than a fucking cat!
My mood has shifted drastically to red. A violent feeling; deep, strong and aggressive; it is downright...hateful, pushes forth to claim dominance in my mind.
"That will not do!" I scream hard and ugly at the four corners of the dinky hotel room I am holed up in. "He needs to die...I tried quick and easy but as usual, D is not going without a fight, so slow and hard it is."
London here I come, again. A quick in and out, and what's done is done...I guess. Turning on the TV, it is a distraction from the rage boiling inside.
"Please be on the lookout for Christopher Pope, a Caucasian male age 32, 6'3", 215 pounds, blond hair, and grey eyes. He is the former owner and CEO of Pope Software and Web Development. (A picture of me is flashed across the screen...Fuck NO!) He is wanted for questioning for the shooting deaths of his wife of five years; Justine LeBlanc-Pope, her parents Lucien and Esmeé LeBlanc, their butler Jasper Addington and his family Linda Hurley-Addington and Chrissie Addington and Canaan Black III who's warded at Angel's Pass Memorial Hospital under police watch (FUCK the Second is making sure that his son is well protected, I'll be damned!) Mr. Pope was last seen driving a Silver 2018 Volvo S90. He is armed and considered extremely dangerous.
But who cares, right? I am sure that with a few minor adjustments I can make it into that room to 'see' him and end it all. London old girl, I am coming back home to your arms. Pushing all my earthly possessions into my rucksack I make my way to my 'borrowed' car; a Toyota Prius.
Justine never realized that I found out about the little inconspicuous car she purchased a few years back under a falsified name. All for her rendezvous with Edward Greenford, that bastard she dated back in secondary school. They were fucking on and off for three long years! But I forgave her every time because I understood why she needed it. (The attention, the love) I was always working every day trying to build my company. Never making or having the time for her. I FORGAVE HER EVERY TIME. But when the tables were turned she threw me away like yesterday's garbage. Now she is gone.
And it never even hurt. She isn't missed. Not for one second.
I make a few stops before heading to the capital.
A mom and pop like drug store to buy a box of hair dye: black, contact lenses: black. I need to blend in and become someone else just for a few minutes until the deed is completed. And of course; a bottle of potassium chloride and a syringe.
A gas station bathroom to change my appearance.
A print shop where a few hundred pounds pushed into the sweaty palms of a pimply-faced, greasy hair teenager buys me a special name tag.
The drive back into London is uneventful. No sirens, no roadblocks. Quiet and perfect. The hospital comes into view and my adrenaline peaks. I am ready to right my wrongs. The parking structure is dark and lonely. Everything is working in my favor. Taking the elevator I enter into the next phase of my plan. I exit the elevator of the 12th floor; Paediatrics
Walking down a corridor to where a sweet nurse with the name tag that reads Annie Summers smiles at me and I nod back.
"Good day...Nurse Summers, am new here, just transferred and I heard a little gossip; there's a celebrity in our midst." She looks at my name tag
"Oh...wonderful to meet you Doctor Spades, yes, Canaan Demetrius Black III...such perfect bone structure...he's been moved from the ICU to a private suite on the 35th floor. But right now, he's down in the MRI department"
(Fantastic) "Thank you Nurse Summers, it is a pleasure meeting you"
"Call me Annie...Doctor Spades, see you around"
"John's the name, see you around" (Not in this lifetime dear Annie girl). Back in the elevator, my heartbeat is steady and my mind is clear. My fingers touch the syringe all nestled in my pocket; the new weapon of choice; his slow and painful way out of this world. The gun, I didn't leave in the car. It is my insurance policy. The police officer guarding the door is asleep on a chair. Lazy bugger; but the universe is on my side. It is smiles all around. Quietly I sneak pass the drooling uniformed officer and enter into the room and to my surprise, sitting in a chair, looking out a window; the Second.
"Well, well, well, fancy meeting you here"
Canaan Demetrius Black II turns swiftly around in the chair and a shocked look peppers his face.
"You little fucker! You tried to kill my boy!" He leaps up and I pull out my gun and point it in his direction, he freezes like a statue.
"Don't take that tone with me, Second. Sit the fuck down...NOW." He complies and drops his frame into the chair, hard.
A sigh escapes my lips, ragged and raw.
"He stole from me...my life's work...everything that meant the world to me...but we BOTH know that you are the one behind it. Justine was a poor excuse to fuck me over. So I took...no...tried to take the one thing that means a lot to you...your legacy. It didn't go as planned but this is better...you being here...is so much better...I will give you a choice. You or him"
I pull the syringe out of my pocket and show it to him.
"You or him...choose"
"What's in that?"
"Just potassium chloride; no big deal." All the defiance leaves his face and body.
"The wicked should be punished. So...have a decision been made Second, old boy?"
"Fantastic choice; please lie down on the bed, let's get started."