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Chapter 13 – A Bit Of Fun
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If you had told the Rei Kon of a year ago that in a year's time on the 11th of November he would be jumping from building to building during a thunderstorm, at 11:45 at night, listening to Britney Spears' 'Toxic' as he got ready to assassinate the leader of a major Russian political party, he would have laughed in your face and walked away, snickering, with his team-mate Kai Hiwatari.
However, the Rei Kon of now was a somewhat different person from the past Rei Kon. The new Rei Kon was newly outfitted with cybernetic implants that meant he could jump storeys high and run as fast as a car could drive easily; the new Rei Kon was listening to 'Toxic' because he had hooked his mp3 player up to his radiolink and couldn't be bothered to change the song; the new Rei Kon was on his way to assassinate his last target and plant suspicious information that would bring down the political infrastructure, and as for walking away with his friend and team-mate, Kai Hiwatari…
He had decided that, since this unfortunate politician was going to be the last to join the long list of the dead-in-the-name-of-a-better-cause, it was a good opportunity to have some fun and 'celebrate' by scaring the shit out of Mr Pasha Molyev before his death.
He was going to enjoy this.
Rei hopped from the street lamp on which he had been perched, landing on the top of a tram that took him closer to the target building. The penthouse was over fifty storeys up, too high to jump from the ground, but easy to scale, as the architect had designed the building with a slanting side that was too steep for a normal human to run up.
But, then again, Rei was no normal human.
With an average of one step for every two storeys, the pad of his boots silent against the glass and nothing but a shadow to the naked eye, Rei found himself at his destination quicker than he had expected. A scan of the area showed him a window, open with the curtains fluttering in the wind. Perfect.
To Pasha Molyev, it seemed that, during the brief flash of lightning, a shadow appeared on his windowsill. He sat up in bed to investigate, but nothing was moving, except for his curtains, blowing in the storm. Shaking his head and declaring it a trick of the light, he got up and closed the window, taking time to look down at the ground below and assure himself that no one could get up to his home externally, short of flying a helicopter up to the window.
Still unable to shake the image from his mind, he left his bedroom to stumble to the kitchen in search of a drink to soothe his nerves. He was halfway down the hall when he heard his bedroom door close behind him. He jerked around, searching the shadows for something, anything, but there was nothing. He walked quickly to the kitchen and flicked the light switch, searching in the cupboards for something strong that would put him to sleep, away from the shadowy nightmare.
The light clicked off.
He gasped and rushed back to the switch in the darkness, stubbing his foot on a chair leg, but not caring. He flicked the switch again, but this time light did not shine forth.
"Hello Pasha."
He whirled around, trying desperately to see into the inky blackness for the owner of the voice. The voice so silkily smooth that it sent chills down his spine.
"I've come for you Pasha."
He felt the breath across his cheek and spun with his arms out, trying to catch his tormentor, instead hearing a twisted chuckle.
"Oh Pasha, you do amuse me. Incidentally, do you know why I am here?"
"Who are you?" He called, panicked, into the darkness.
"Why, I'm your murderer, of course."
A bolt of lightning seared across the sky, lighting the room in stark relief and the owner of the voice was revealed to him. He saw a figure, black and featureless, small but also inconceivably large, a part of the shadows. But the image that fixed into his memory as he fell from his window to the concrete below was not of the shadowy mane, nor the fangs that glinted over the bottom lip.
It was of the eyes that burned in the darkness, burned amber with hate and hollow, sadistic laughter.
The last thing that Pasha Molyev thought before his body hit the ground, was how sorry he was that a human being could be twisted into such a nightmarish creature.
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I love all my reviewers because they are My Merry Wives Of Windsor. And why do I call them strange names? Because I feel that they are very special people, those reviewers, and deserve to be called 'Beautiful' and 'Wonderous'. It's just me, showing my thanks.