11:52 P.M.
Northern Lights Hotel
3105 Westsmith Lane
Treaft
Adam Tarrant marched down the hallway towards his hotel room, flanked by similarly well-dressed guards. He was an ambassador of sorts from a tech magnate who was looking to invest in a local up-and-coming company called Vigilance Security Solutions, their scheduled meeting had gone well, if not a little late. Adam felt that his employer had rather over-committed to his well-being, though he could understand where they were coming from, he did have access to an obscene amount of his boss's money. He reached his room and bid goodnight to the bodyguards, who were stationed in the 3 rooms immediately surrounding him. He eased the door open after hearing the beep of the key card being accepted and went inside, shrugging his suit jacket off as he went and tossing it towards the desk chair, the silver buttons catching a slight glare off the light of the bedside lamp. Wait a minute, he hadn't left the light on....
"Hey" a barely audible voice growled from the bed. Adam reached carefully towards the drawer in front of him where he had stashed a gun.
"Don't bother, I already found it" the voice said "Besides... mine's bigger. Turn around"
Adam held his hands aloft as he spun in place to face the intruder. He was seated comfortably on the bed, jet black sawed off shotgun in hand. Middle-aged, decked out all in black, except for a white skull seemingly spray painted onto his shirt. The attire jogged something in his memory, like something he had read absentmindedly and half-forgotten, then it clicked.
"You're that vigilante then? The Reaper?"
"If that's what they call me, I guess so" Reaper growled "but we're here to talk about you Mr. Tarrant"
"I haven't done anything"
"That's what the guilty ones say. Take a seat at the desk, and take out the notepad and pen in the drawer"
Tarrant did as Reaper commanded, but that didn't stop him from talking.
"You're making a mistake. I'm an investment broker, not a... some kind of... gangster, or something"
Reaper stood and re-positioned himself to sit on the end of the bed.
"I don't make mistakes, and I know exactly who you are. Now, you're gonna write down everything you know about Vigilance Security"
"What? I don't..."
"First warning" Reaper cut in "If you lie again, I cut out your tongue. I want the names of everyone you met, the nature of their business as they described it, and any other information that happens to float up in your mind"
"I just don't see why you want me, I don't work for them"
"I'm gonna let that one slide, because clearly you have no idea who you really work for. Or maybe you do. Either way, get writing. Or do I have to get violent?"
The next couple of minutes were silent except for the scratches of pen on paper.
"Ok" Tarrant said holding up the notepad "That's everything"
Reaper ripped off the page and folded it before slipping it into a pocket.
"Thank you Adam. Now there's one other thing to deal with. Part of it has to do with the bodyguards stationed in the rooms next to and across from this one, and the other has to do with September 17th. 8 years ago"
"What the? How did you.."
"I have sources. Glad to see we're on the same page, clearly I can't just let you walk away from this. That girl had a family, and besides. You've already seen my face. So here's what's going to happen. Stand up and face me"
He was shaking, tears started to form in his eyes.
"Please, you don't have to."
"Oh but I do Adam. You understand right, it's all strictly business. I promise you, it'll be less painful than what you did to her."
Before Tarrant could object further, Reaper pulled the trigger, letting loose a loud blast of buckshot straight into the man's chest. Tarrant fell with a wet smack, already long dead before his corpse had dropped. Reaper racked the shotgun and moved quickly, already he could hear the sounds of the men moving all around him, mobilizing into action. He pulled on a balaclava as he stepped into the bathroom and stood in the dark, Adam's pistol in hand.
12:09 A.M.
Northern Lights Hotel
3105 Westsmith Lane
Treaft
Reaper pushed open the door leading to the back alley, allowing the glow of a nearby streetlight to bathe over his blood-soaked face and clothing. He could hear the sirens getting closer, no time to lose. He moved to the car he had procured for this mission, kicked the engine into gear and tore off into the night, hoping the police of the city would be competent enough to find the manila envelope he had left on the bed containing copies of the evidence against Tarrant and a short listing of atrocities committed by certain members of the bodyguard squad, who were lying helplessly on the hotel floor with blood pouring out of their freshly shot kneecaps.
FourtyTwo
