Author Topic: Time (Karma's Messenger)  (Read 28 times)

Offline Anubis

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Time (Karma's Messenger)
« on: January 11, 2018, 09:50:36 AM »

     The one great construct that was said to heal all wounds. The one messenger that waits for no man. Many try to tame it through the latest

detoxes and plastic surgery disasters – but ultimately – time comes for us all.
     Having received the Contract through one of his anonymous emails, the man had almost thought it had been a hoax. Tracking down the source

of the Contract had left him clueless – even the latest and greatest millennial hackers couldn’t figure out who had made the initial request.

     Ten million dollars was a hefty sum of money – even in the Assassination Game.

     Yet, it wasn’t the money that had caught the attention of Razgriz. No, it was the name on the Contract – the individual in question whose life

had been summed up into an insane amount of American Dollars.


     The man was a legend in their community – an Operator of the highest order – some would say one of the best for easily the last decade within

their Clandestine Business.

     And yet, the once formidable warrior had fallen off the face of the Earth. After a considerable campaign to free himself of the skeletons in his

closet, a single attempt upon his life during what was supposed to be the happiest day of his life had brought his entire world crashing down.

     Razgriz didn’t envy the man – the Assassin had learned long ago that people in their line of business simply couldn’t have a personal life. Loved

ones, children, and families – these were all ideals and things that could be exploited against them and could compromise everything one worked

for in this business.

     He didn’t accept the Contract formally; he merely sent a message back to the source explaining to them how dangerous and foolish an idea it

would be to try and kill the Operator known as Sokaris. After that, Razgriz had tapped into his considerable sources within the Intelligence

Community to find out where the man had disappeared to after the untimely death of countless friends, comrades, and his fiancée’ and unborn


     Tracing the Operator to the flatlands had been more surprising than difficult in its accomplishment. Sokaris had always been a man of the city

despite how easily he could slip in and out of the shadows.

      Razgriz never agreed with the man’s obsession with the sport of Professional Wrestling, either. Sure, Sokaris kept his identities completely

separate from one another with a skill that would have made most Schizophrenics blush. The few times the two men crossed paths in a business

that often blurred lines of loyalty and commitment he had told Sokaris that his childhood obsession was just one more weakness that would

ultimately compromise him.

     He almost felt bad now for see all of that unfold upon the honorable man.

     All sources pointed to Sokaris disappearing into the western regions of Montana into the mountains. The man had made his name in the

mountains and deserts of Afghanistan – Razgriz almost smiled at the faint memory.


     After traveling to the state under one of his false identities, Razgriz had taken the time to visit a local Bass Pro Shops. It was amazing what

products and technology could be purchased in such stores for the common citizen in this day and age. Cash was still king in this day and age – and

despite the look on the perplexed millennials face when Razgriz easily dropped several hundred dollars upon the countertop, no one really

questioned the business being brought to the establishment.

    Securing passage into the mountains themselves had been even easier. Numerous local companies rented out all sorts of all-terrain vehicles. The

man had found a Gator suitable for his needs – he had packed light for the journey, only bringing what he thought he would absolutely need while

planning for every contingency as well.

     Once the terrain became too rocky and hazardous for the vehicle, Razgriz began scaling the range by foot. The first several days had left him

with no clues and on his third night bunkered down on the side of the mountain he had begun to convince himself that all this was pointless and a

fruitless venture.

     Yet, there was a voice screaming deep down inside his head – a yearning that had drove him since the first time he had met Sokaris.

     On the fourth day he had begun to pack up his campsite when he had noticed a flash of light a mile up the mountain – the faintest hint and

flash of the rising sun off of a reflective surface.

     Only grabbing his backpack and his sidearm, Razgriz tore off in the direction of the light. Every muscle, bone and body part was aching after the

marathon days of scaling the mountains in search of Sokaris.

     Soaked in sweat and dirt, Razgriz closed a rocky path to find a campsite with fresh ashes from a fire near a precipitous edge of the mountain. It

was the click of a hammer falling into place that had caused his entire body to freeze.

     “Who sent you?” a gnarled, grisly voice from the past that caused every hair on his body to stand on edge.

    “Someone put ten million out for your head – I told them you were already dead” Razgriz replied with his hands up above

his shoulders at his sides, his dark hues glancing down to the holster that held his Glock 17.

     “Smart” the voice replied as the sound of tension leaving the hammer followed. Razgriz slowly turned as his attention fell

to the source of the sound.

     “Shit…” Razgriz swore faintly under his own breath. The once all-mighty Sokaris was now dressed in tattered rags, his

body covered head to toe in easily months’ worth of soot, dirt and God only knew what else. He had lost a tremendous amount of weight as well –

the once brick-shit-house of a soldier now looking like a weary skeleton at the end of his days.

     “What happened to you?” Razgriz asked, already knowing the answer but simply not able to help himself. Sokaris brought

his attention away from the rising sun back towards the young assassin. Sokaris had ten years on Razgriz but it looked more like thirty years at this


    “Kid….I was selfish….foolish….and a damned idiot. I thought I could have a legitimate life….friends, a wife…family…”

Sokaris replied as bloodshot blues fell back towards the rising sun, his right hand release the equally worn piece of forged steel onto the rocky path

they both stood upon. He would look back to Razgriz. “They took it all from me, Jason. They took it all. They had to remind me in the

harshest way the m most important lesson in our line of work…”

     “What lesson is that?” Razgriz asked as his posture relaxed now that Sokaris seemed to pose no threat, his spirit and

body broken from a life of endless killing and death.

     Sokaris smiled, looking back to the younger man.

    “That we are disposable” were the last words uttered as he took a step forward while turning to face Ragriz, his arms

outstretched as he plummeted from the side of the mountain.

     Razgriz could only watch in blank remorse as the legend known as Sokaris fell into oblivion, the rising sun blinding him to the hundreds of feet

below the edge of the mountainside.

     Later he found what had to be the man’s permanent home farther up the mountainside. A rudimentary hut constructed of mud and sticks, he

knew the former Operator had lived in worse…but also much better as well.

     A lone picture was found in the hut along with empty bottles of whiskey and skins from various animals hunted across the mountains. A worn

picture of a young beauty with raven hair, piercing hues and vibrant ink across her flesh – a link to the past and a reminder of everything the man

had lost.

     Ragriz gathered up the few items he found that belonged to Sokaris and brought them out from the hut to what had been a permanent fire pit

the Operator had dug down into the ground. Starting a fire, Razgriz let the items burn, only hoping that Sokaris had finally found some form of


     The trip home was quiet and solemn – the young Assassin reflected on everything he had known about Sokaris – the path he had walked – the l

life he had tried to live, and all the mistakes he had made along the way that brought him to this morning on the mountainside.

     Arriving home back in New York State, his quaint apartment in Manhattan had been tended to by a young Spanish maid that he paid

handsomely in both money and sex. She kept the place immaculate along with the Private Security Company he contracted out while he was away

on jobs.

     Exiting his shower, his feet welcomed the radiant heat pouring through the terrazzo floor as he wrapped a white towel around his waist. Padding

towards his office, Razgriz picked up a tablet resting upon his desk and opened one of his many anonymous email addresses.

    “Contract Fulfilled. I expect the rest of my money by day’s end” was the response to the unknown source.

     As Razgriz padded away from his desk towards his bedroom to prepare for Marlena’s arrival, the tablet sat upon the desk and timed out,

becoming dark once more as the scene faded into black.
« Last Edit: January 12, 2018, 09:37:50 AM by Anubis »

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