I am repulsed by this city. It's rotting—decay you can feel even without having a smell. I was supposed to be on a break. But then I got word about this place during my last contract.
The Grims number one gang in this city. Human garbage. Fitting name—named after the city itself. Animals always mark their territory.
I watched them. If they sold drugs, extorted people, blackmailed, even killed,I wouldn't mind. But they crossed the one line... children. Anyone that harms or kills someone or something that can't defend itself doesn't deserve to live.
They have a warehouse by the harbour, where they keep the kids. Based on their recent activity, they are about to clean house and move.
That's the best time to catch prey—when they want to run. I'll kill every last one of them. Then get the information I need before tipping off the police. Doubt anything would happen though—after all, it's Grimford I'm talking about.
I get paid for my jobs but this, I'd do for free.
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Saturday, fifth of August, 8PM. Grim members are already cleaning house, planning to change location. They will certainly kill the kids too sick to carry with them. I guess monsters will be monsters.
I've been outside their warehouse for ten hours. I'm waiting for the man in charge—Scarface, as they call him. Large, ugly scar across his face, right eye to bottom lip.
So many stories about how he got it, no one knows the truth. He's as ugly inside as he is outside. Got into the kids trafficking business because he's a pedophile.
The rape type—the kind that makes my skin crawl and blood boil. He dies tonight. Him and his crew—none of them will see the sun. Two hours later and the main man is here. Scarface. A monster in human flesh. I'll make sure to kill him slowly.
"Look here, you fuckers. We just need to clean up this mess. Saved you all extra work by having those little shits moved early. You're all welcome, Scarface chuckled"
These bastards. He's moved the kids? When? I should have taken this seriously.
"So clean up the shit quickly. Let's go get some whores and drinks, am I right? The mercenaries cheered"
Look at them. Animals, all of them—cheering like they didn't just ruin lives. Ready to end the night with their balls drained and their bellies full.
"And before I forget—those two remaining. The sick one and her brother. They still here, right?"
"Yes, boss." "Get me the boy. I need to let off some steam."
"What about the girl?" "Do with her as you please."
I so desperately want to jump down and end him. But I have to be professional. No mistakes. Not tonight.
"Boss, can we have seconds when you're done with him?" "Sure, sure. Anything for my boys."
Turns out birds of the same diseased feather stick together.
"Chop-chop, boys! We ain't got all night."
I can see it—those disgusting grins stretched across their faces. Sick bastards, drooling over what's about to happen. Cowards of the highest level holding rifles because it makes them feel like men. Makes them feel powerful.
I hate guns. It's a coward's weapon. Any idiot can pull the trigger and shoot up a mall or a school. Blades are better. Blades require skill. Patience. Discipline.
A blade tells a story—not just by how it was forged, but by how it moves. The way it slices from flesh to bone. The song it sings when it cuts through the air. The same blades they look down on will end them.
Shitō and Chikatō, the blades that have accompanied me since I began cleaning the earth—they will be soaked in blood.
They've started to clean up. I, the Kageoni, will deliver death to them. Wearing my mask, I activate my night vision and head to the fuse box to cut the power.
I've altered the fuse box to have issues—long enough to not raise suspicion at the power going off. I hear voices headed this way—two of them, irritated. Makes my job easier. The door is opening. They're headed my way.
"Stupid fuse, always failing at the worst time. Wouldn't surprise me if this shit shorted out before we even get out of here. Fucking typical. You better not touch my beer, Marvin."
He's right where I want him. Sneaking up behind him is easy. Now he dies. Driving Shitō straight into his skull and Chikatō into his windpipe—a very quiet and quick death. More than he deserves.
The sound of my blades cutting through flesh is muffled. The only real noise is the spurt of blood from his throat. I drop his corpse, making sure there's no sound. I can't afford to alert the others.
Footsteps. Heavy. Slow. One of the grunts.
"Hey, Dave, what the hell are you doing? Taking a wank? Your beer's getting cold. I'll drink it, you bastard. What the fuck are you doing?"
He doesn't suspect a thing. I hold my breath, pressing my back to the wall. My eyes never leave the door, waiting for the right moment to move.
"You better not be watching porn on the job again. Scarface hates delays. Alright, where are you? I'm coming myself."
He's walking right past me without noticing my presence. This operation will be a very swift one.
"Dave, did you get electrocuted to death? I haven't fucked your mum yet. Dave—there you are. What happened to—klugrrhh!"
I drive Chikatō across his belly—his intestines unravel like pink ropes, steam rising as they hit the cold concrete. Shitō follows, sliding into the crown of his skull.
I pull down swiftly. His face parts like wet clay—right down to his windpipe.
More remain deeper in the building and all will die.