3 Cheers For Sweet Revenge

I always hated our rendezvous, they were always awkward and uneasy for me.
We just had to meet at the same place all the time, so it really wasn't much of a secret meeting.

My employer, Rochester, was at his glam mansion in the hills. I hated this place because it seemed like the only reason he had me come by was to show off his splendor and wealth.
If you ask me, I'd call his mansion not a house, but a tomb!

The place was always quiet, serene, almost dead. Hardly any activity took place there. So this is what rich people do with their time and money...

I didn't like the meetings because even if we were outside, he wouldn't let me smoke. He'd always be choking from the stench and the fumes of my cigarettes, so I'd snuff them out for him.
I'd been working with him for a couple years now, he always called me his problem child.

He was waiting for me at the pool, his legion of fake pretty whores swimming around and sunning themselves while he drank brandy in a tacky Hawaiian shirt. He motioned me over to him, and I took a seat.

"Can I get you something Grey?" he asked, motioning to his butler Chives.

I shook my head, "No thank you boss, I'm fine."

He nodded curtly and lit up a Cuban cigar.
I pursed my lips in annoyance, too good for cigarettes, but not for stogies...

"You made quite a mess back there Grey. What, with all the explosions, and gunshots! You've gotten sloppy, you used to be so careful, calm, collected! You knew I was sending in a cleaner to evidence tampering and sterilization, did you have to blow the place up?"

I smiled slightly, but not enough for him to notice, "I thought the situation called for it. I thought it was rather appropriate."

Rochester took a long puff off of his cigar before setting it down gingerly in a large black ash tray.

"But these days, whenever there is an explosion, they blame terrorists! We are not terrorists Grey! And because of your foul up, they are gonna get all paranoid again, and beef up security in every major city and building! Do you have any idea how hard it's going to be now to make and break your targets?!"

I looked down at the ground, noticing a random blood stain on my black shoe.

"Dam nit Grey! How long have we worked together? Years now right? You haven't had a foul up since the Marieona massacre!"

I looked up at him, bitter with resentment. I hated it when he always brought that day up, like I'd ever forget that day.

"It's because of that bullshit, we've had to put you on haldol! But even now, that's making you wreck less and stupid! Do you not remember that day?!"

4 YEARS AGO...

The wedding party all collapsed in the room, I had sent heavy doses of disabling CS gas in through the air ventilation ducts at the reception hall. My target was Bobby Marieona, heir to the family, and newly wed to Sasha Burovsky, the daughter of Igor Burovsky.

It was a tense wedding, a pact made by the Italian and Russian Mafia's of the area to cease fire and work in harmony with one another. It wasn't unlike the French and English marrying off sons and daughters in hopes of ending wars and sieges in the days of yore.

Now though, everyone was gagging, choking, and writhing on the plush carpeted floor, desperately trying to breathe. You can't die from CS, I made sure of it.
It was time to send my resignation to the bride and the groom.

The reception was up on the tenth floor of a high rise, a very rich and respected building indeed. It had a pool even, large reception hall, full open bar, karaoke, god it was luxurious.
I arrived as everyone was on the ground, incapacitated as I had planned.

I found the bride in a heap behind the punch bowl, coughing her lungs out. I stood there, waiting until she made eye contact with me. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, tears streaming, the chemical assault. Of course I had my gas mask on!

I lifted my desert eagle .50 American Express Magnum, aiming at her face between her eyes. I fired a single shot, for that was all that I needed. The loud staccato of the deep bass gunshot echoed off of the high walls, drowning out the annoying George Michael's song on the karaoke machine. I had been issued a suppressed 9mm pistol, but it lacked stopping power, and besides, I loved the psychological effect ringing gunshots had on the human mind. The knowledge of knowing that each shot meant another life snuffed.

I left her brain and blood spattered body on the floor, her white dress turned red. I passed friends and family, only stopping to put a well aimed bullet in their brains. A couple goons tried to get to their feet to stop the slaughter, but I halted their attempts with more gunshots to the face and gut.

I searched desperately for my next target, the groom. He's not around.. he's not here?

The whole kicker behind this, was the fact that the groom didn't even love the bride, let alone women in general. He was gay, too afraid to tell his family or his bride, so he kept it to himself. He was always looking at men, as seen in the surveillance photos taken a week ago at some posh restraint he had frequented since he was a kid. His lover was amongst those present, hating this day just as much as him. I was here to end the "Truce" with the families, to continue the war so our Japanese employers could continue their operations.

I stepped outside, finding him by the pool. He was alone, he didn't have many friends. I was surprised he hadn't heard my assault inside, I suppose all the music and screaming and noises only sounded like exalted celebration to him. Poor silly fuck.

I didn't hesitate, I pulled the trigger three times, removing his left arm, ear and top of his head. His body toppled lifeless into the pool, staining the water a primal hue. Magnificent.

His body was face down, and I knew it would bloat from the decomposition, and I needed a blood trophy for my employers, proof of a job well done. I took a snapshot with a disposable camera I had on me. Smile..

Till death do they part, if you marry me, you gotta bury me, carry me, to the end. To the fucking end.

I came back inside, clean up time to my own accord. I passed the dead bride again, taking a moment to reflect on her. I hated her, I hated her for who she was, a spoiled princess.
From the money she spent, the life of her own, her damned Benz she drove. The diamonds, blood diamonds she had her father get for her by her request. Look at her now, covered in cake and dead.

I moved from cluster to cluster, emptying my pistol into them at close interval, taking my time to reload. No one was to be spared. Thank God there were no children present...

BACK WITH ROCHESTER.

"Yeah you remember don't ya?"

"That was different, I was different! Helena made me change!" I protested.

"Yeah, and now you gotta get hopped up on ephedrine to do your work, which is fucking you over! And that fucks me over!" Rochester said angrily.

I reclined in my chair, "So what? What are you gonna do about it?"

He narrowed his eyes at me coldly, "What am I going to do?! What am I going to do?! Why, I'm going to have to let you go."

I laughed, "Ha! You can't fire me! You don't just fire an assassin!"

He laughed this time, "Get the fuck out of my sight Grey. Leave or be carried out. Go home to your Helena, say a prayer, and hope that your actions today don't put you closer to the grave."

I sat up, "Are you threatening me old man?"

He didn't stop smiling, "Leave..now. Last chance...leave"