Chapter 1

It's been years.

Years since the end of the service club.

Years since the genuine I sought was revealed to me as nothing more than a fairytale.

I was a fool, and now I have learnt my lesson.

In the end, my teen romantic comedy was just that, a teenager's affair, brought on by the deception of youth.

I thought I had known better. I thought I was an exception to the foolishness of the world around me. I protected myself yet I still got hurt. I tried to shield myself, yet in the end I've become victim to the cruel fate of youth.

In the end, the real loser was me.

So I ran away. I ran from it all.

The light shone through window in the dusty safe house I holed up in. The couch creaked with every movement I made. I checked my watch against the reflection of the light.7:36 it said.

"Another day in paradise." I said out loud to no one in particular. The isolation of my line of work was a usual thing. Though more often than not I would have colleagues with me to 'help' various people that needed it. Provided these people can pay for it.

I sat myself up to the loud creaking of the shitty couch. The phone on the floor beside the couch rang with the familiar pan-san ring tone. It's been there for years now. Never really had the heart to change it lest I forget everything.

Kind of counter-productive now that I think about it, considering I was the one who left it all behind.

I answered the unknown number on the phone.

"Is this the one they call the angel of death?" asked a distorted voice in english.

I tried not cringe at that. Why did I get that name?

"Yes." I answered in practiced, fluent English, forcing my voice to go a few octaves lower. Never know who might be listening, and it's best to speak a common language.

"I heard you're the best at what you do." The distorted voice continued.

Is this dude for real?

"You wouldn't be calling if I weren't." I replied. In this line of work, a little smart mouthing was always welcome.

"Right, I have a job for you, provided you're interested…" The distorted voice said.

"Go on, I'm listening." I replied, starting to be irritated.

"There's a…valuable person waiting to be put down. I need you to do that for me." The voice said, hesitation not hidden well. "The payment will be delivered close by after we receive word that the target's been taken out."

Seems fair enough. A standard job, another person needed to be killed. Who was I to say no, especially when there's money involved?

"Anything I should know about the target before I go?" I asked the caller.

"He's a lieutenant of a local rebellion army. The country would benefit greatly were he to unfortunately be killed." The caller said.

"I don't care about that." I replied. "Tell me, how many people will have to die with him?"

I could hear the chuckle even through the distortion. "That's why they say you're the best. Anyway, the target would be accompanied by several bodyguards at one time. How you deal with them is entirely up to you. But we prefer it if their deaths made some 'noise' so to speak. The payment will be dropped off at the usual location."

"I got you." I replied. "Personal info?"

"Sending you pictures now." The call ended and I received two pictures of the unlucky bastard I was about to execute.

He looked rather normal to be honest, his dark skin reflected his local heritage. The longer I looked at his face, the more I realize that I don't a thing about this guy other than what I needed to.

Who knew if this guy was an asshole or a saint? If he had a family that he was fighting for? Didn't matter much to me, I was just the guy who shot people for a living. It would do wonders if I thought less about these things.

I grabbed the 50 caliber rifle beside the couch and grabbed the rest of my equipment. The familiar weight of the rifle was reassuring, despite what I usually did with it. My thoughts wandered into familiar territory as I think about everything I left in Chiba.

I wonder how they're all doing now. The last time I called my sister, she was just starting college and that was two years ago. As for the rest of the people in my life, that was a mystery.

Who knows where they are now, or what they were doing?

They were better off without me anyway.

The setting sun is often regarded as a beautiful sight by the majority of the people in this planet. But here, it was a countdown to bloodshed and chaos.

The GPS location the client gave me pinpointed to compound with several warehouses and one in particular where the target was holed up, it also had three gates that led out into different directions. I sat on a cliff side where I can see the whole compound, and what I saw wasn't gonna be easy. Not for me, at least.

The client really wasn't lying. The whole place was crawling with local militia, crummy Ak's and everything. On top of that, I couldn't get a clear shot from this distance, with how much movement and obstacles that could hinder me from getting a clear one.

Further information from the client told me that the target has an important place to be tomorrow, arms dealing or something like that. Which means that he's probably going with at least a dozen men and they're all gonna be on high alert.

So that leaves me with two options, either go in stealthily and risk getting captured and possibly butchered, or wait until tomorrow to take a shot with a possibility to miss and get hunted down.

No matter how I look at it, both scenarios could get me killed either way. The client said noisy right?

Good thing I brought those IEDs

The morning was quiet. The nights in this godforsaken land were filled with distance sounds of gunfire and distance lights that signaled a village being burnt down to the ground. The mornings were always quiet around here.

For me though, this was the calm before the storm. I made every possible preparation throughout the night and was waiting for the patrol to head this way.

The road they were passing through was a narrow dirt road that was flanked by two hills that were doing nothing to help protect them from what I'm about to do.

I camped by the foot of the smaller hill hidden by the tall vegetation that was fairly commonplace in this region, awaiting the passing caravan with the Barrett 50 I've always used. To the untrained eye, I was nigh invisible. Other than that, the client said it had to be 'noisy', which means I've prepared a nasty little surprise for anyone unlucky enough to be part of that caravan.

Imagine all the newer skills I could add to my 108 skills that I could tell my club mates about, heh.

That was strange, why did I think about my club mates all of the sudden?

The distant rumbling of cars snapped me back into reality, here they come.

There were four cars driving down the road, standard vehicles, pickups and SUVs with mounted MGs that had metal parts welded on to them to offer protection against bullets, which is fine. Not like I was planning to shoot while they were driving anyway.

The fact that they were using this road was a statement to their arrogance. There were three roads that they could've used, the other two are a whole lot safer than this one and could've decreased the chances of an ambush at the cost of an additional thirty minutes of travelling.

But they decided to use this road, which cut straight through the valley.

They thought they were invincible, they're about to be proven wrong. Very wrong.

I pulled up my mask, it was about to get dusty. They finally reached the area, the cars fully reaching into place.

I made a phone call.

It rang once.

The distant explosion told me that the deed was done. The two cars in the front were reduced into a burning wreck. The ash and dust from the road shooting up, completely masking my presence, as planned. The sounds of men shouting in their native language was always a familiar sound, the sound of gunfire was also present, but never a concern of mine.

To them this could mean death.

To me, this is my life.

I dialed another number.

The ringing was quickly interrupted by another explosion, this time a lot closer. The loose boulders of the larger hill opposite of me fell freely into the men and vehicles below, completely crushing and burying the poor sods at the bottom.

Well, that was easy. Easier than I thought, at least.

And not a single bullet fired. A good day, if you ask me.

I grabbed the Go pro I had set up nearby. As usual, it had recorded everything that I did. It wasn't for proof. You'd think that someone as important as that kicking the bucket would be fast news, and around here, news travel at the speed of light.

The recording was more for my entertainment than anything. Living here for as long as I have tends to fuck up the normal person's sanity, especially if you've seen what I have.

I slung the rifle over my shoulder. No doubt reinforcements would arrive here soon, and I want to keep breaking the record of the most time not getting shot at in a day. Which, the last time I remembered, was nine hours? If I keep this up or a couple more hours, I'd definitely break it.

Time to go get that pay.

The local town was crowded. No wait, scratch that. It was always sort of empty now that I've thought about it. It was a pretty diverse place really, from farmers to foreigners; each looking to get rich or get out of the country in their own ways.

But there were more mercenaries walking around than usual. This was needless to say, strange, especially for a town like this.

I made sure my face mask truly concealed my face. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. Especially with most of these mercenaries being antisocial asshats whose main purpose in life was to get so drunk that they forget their names.

Of course, mercenaries have established a sort of 'business' center here. Usually they'd come by group and ask for a job, but if you make a name for yourself, you'll get a satellite phone and a call instead.

Case in point, me.

I honestly didn't think I'd make it this far. Between my old life and this one, I've had little no training and rely solely on my wits and my marksmanship skills. I was pretty physically fit back then, so I didn't have that much trouble adjusting to the situation I put myself in.

The situation I ran into.

I stopped in front of a run-down building with a sign that says 'bar' and walked in. The familiar scent of cigarettes and booze never fails to remind me that this was a part of my daily life now. The faces here were familiar in a way that oozes with unfriendliness. A stereotypical bar but filled with people more than happy to shoot you if that meant they were getting paid to do it.

It's quite amusing to think that the next job I'll have might lead to me shooting one of them in the face, but hey that's life, right?

I walked over to the counter where the bartender was, his grey hair and wrinkly face reminds me of my own grandfather, in which my grandfather was a grumpy, senile man who was ready to beat the next customer to death.

"Come to get that pay then?" he asked in a thick accent, which I couldn't tell if it was Irish or something else.

But if it meant being noticed back then, I should've been a known mercenary.

I simply nodded, to which he reached under the counter and retrieved a large paper envelope. "Oh yeah, some girlie came by looking for you earlier, kid."

"What?"

"You heard me, some girlie was looking for you earlier and by the serious look she had, it ain't the prettiest news. You do something to make a woman angry, kid? Ain't the wisest move."

"…No. Did you give her my name?" I replied.

"I said I didn't know anyone." He simply replied.

"Thanks, what did she want by the way?" I asked.

"Hell if I know kid, she was a sight for sore eyes though."

I chuckled. 'Thanks again, I'll see you around." I replied and walked away, to which he nodded.

The sun was high in the sky outside. I walked out of the bar while simultaneously opening the envelope to check if the pay was all there. Life like this wasn't so hard, It just takes a bit of courage and a lot of planning to make it in this business.

People like me were a stain in a modern society. But here, where there are no laws, we are the predators.

I ripped the envelope open.

Rough stones? I counted at least twenty of them. Just who was that guy I killed?

Why would I get paid so much for taking out a mere lieutenant, of a local militia no less?

The envelope also had another thing inside it. A satellite phone, which had no number in it. Strange, maybe the client thought my phone was getting dodgy and decided to get me a new one? Highly unlikely, but why was it in my envelope?

Perhaps the bartender gave me the wrong envelope…

There was also another thing at the bottom… A picture…?

My God.

I dropped the picture in shock. It was something I never expected to see ever again in a long time. I even had my own copy of the same picture.

It was a picture of the service club.

AN:

My first time trying to write in a long time, I very rusty. A lot of things have happened since then, I'll do my best to try and produce content regularly or at least, frequently.