The Kracken

"I cant say I'm ashamed of my pass, quite the opposite actually, but, I supposed you want a confession, well, here it is, I suppose I'll start from the beginning.

August 6, 1987, that was the day I was born, how ironic that it was the same day as the first atomic bomb isn't it? Anyways, unlike most children, I wasn't born in a hospital, no, I was born on a fake Prussian rug in a drug peddles den, the unwanted b*****d with a hooker for a mother and some rich (BLEEEEP) for a father, needless to say I never knew ether of them, so I lived in an orphanage for the first thirteen years of my life. I still remember the day it happened clearly, its something you never forget I suppose. It was the sixteenth of July 2000, the kids name was Jensen,
Jensen Hindrickson, not that last names mattered back there, he was the oldest kid there, and due to the fact that he was also the biggest kid there, he like to assert his dominance... violently. That was until that fateful day. He was making his 'collection rounds' he called them, where he went around collecting the money from his fearful subjects, those who didn't have money would end up with there legs broken, needless to say I couldn't pay. When he found me I was waiting for him, and lets just say I was long gone by the time they found his bloody dismembered corpse, with a kitchen knife stuck in its back, and so began my trail of bodies. I tried to forget what had happened, what I had done, but it wasn't long before I realized I had enjoyed it, I had enjoyed every muffled scream he had given as the knife cut into his flesh and the warmth of his blood as it ran down my arm, and most of all, I had loved the sweet ecstasy of having ended a life, and so I chose to kill again. Im not sure of his name, he was just some random random guy walking down the street at night, probably walking home from the graveyard shift, probably had a gal and a kid at home, and those thoughts made his murder all the sweeter, ahh, still remember the pained look on his face as I, a kid of only thirteen at the time, began to cleave the flesh off of his bones, ah the orgasmic pleasure of watching a man bleed out on the sidewalk! crying out like a small child, screaming out for the help that somewhere deep inside he knew was never going to come, and the sweet terrified expression left on his face as rigor mortis set in, but I hadn't kept track of the time, so before I knew it, the sun was rising, so I had to make myself scarce, but the ecstasy stayed with me for the rest of the day, so at night I killed again. Now, nothing really happened for the next few years, except for the fact that the cops had realized there was actually a serial killer, and my 'fan club' in the afterlife grew bigger. My story resumes about seven years later, on the night of my twenty first birthday, and I was, like most kids on there twenty first birthday I was at the bar, unsuccessfully attempting to get drunk, when a strange man approached me, he said something about knowing who I was, and needing me to come with him, it was sketchy at best, but if he really did know I had to go, and if worst came to worst, I had my knife. He took me out back and told me 'I have a deal for you' he said and when asked what the deal was he said 'my group has some people we want... gone' he had said 'and in exchange we'll pay you and give you a warehouse for your... art.' What can i say?, it was a good deal. So I accepted, and soon I had my first mafia hit, Jackson Halberd, that was the first time I had
Ever used a gun. Im not sure what the mob had against him, but it was obviously bad, the package came to my new warehouse carrying a million dollars, and a fully stocked armory, Im not talking about a shipping crate filled with guns, no, they sent one of those big metal boxes that you see on barges, and inside was a professional hitman's wet dream. There were shoties, pistols, sniper rifles, full and semi autos, there was a gun made out of bamboo so metal detectors wouldn't pick it up, there where knives and swords and strangaly-wire things, there where silencers, sights, scopes, accessory galore, there were tactical vests and there was even a (BLEEEEEP)ing gatling gun! They even sent a second large metal box completely filled with assorted bullets. And inside there was a note that said 'this is your arsenal, don't let us down, your mobilization phrase is 'release the kraken'' I'm really not sure how, or why for that matter they sent me so many (BLEEP)ing guns, but they did, and I was going to pay them back with loyalty, because they apparently had faith in me. That is when I adopted my code name, 'The Kraken'. the next night I was standing in front of the Halberd mansion, the guy was a stock broker and CEO of a company apparently funding the cop's Anti-Mafia coalition, and without him the coalition would collapse. I couldn't count all the guards there, but there was work to be done, and I was being payed to do it. unfortunately i didn't have the chance to brutally maul the guards, so all I could do was give them a silenced bullet in the head.
now, let me take a moment to talk about guns, there no fun, but they get the job done, the doesn't let you kill them slowly, like you can with a knife, but anyways back to the issue at hand. After I took out all of the guards, I looked inside, the idiot had been so confident in his exterior guards, he hadn't placed any on the inside. I started with the daughter, the little (BLEEP) never saw it coming.
I cut out her vocal cords first, so she couldn't scream, and then I took my trusty knife and began peeling the skin off of her bones, once she was sufficiently dead I went to the master bedroom, to actually finish my job, I slit the wife's thought, then, no one being left in the primacies, with the exception on the toddler who I couldn't bring myself to kill, I began to slowly hack Jackson to bits, enjoying his twisted screams of agony. after that, I was sent on may more assassinations, taking my time, eliminating everyone older then 2, and sadisticly taking my time with every target, and, never being caught by the cops, well unintentionally anyways. oh? what do you mean until now?, no your my target, and remember that bamboo gun I told you about chief?, well here it is."

Reviews

[M.R Steiner]

holy crap this was chilling, a couple of spelling errors, but other than that this was so freaking vivid, the cycle of of violence and the way it builds up gives a real impression of progression and wouldn't be too far fetched from real life stories. check out 'Wise Guys' the book that goodfellas was based on, I bet you will get a real kick out of it. this guy is kind of a jimmy conway story with murder in place of stealing.

your writing is coming on in leaps and bounds man, it's really impressive. keep it up :)

[Wayward Soul]

Im going to release a series of the short-ish stories, just to improve my writhing before continuing to work on the ballad of wayward souls

[M.R Steiner]

that's a great idea, I did the same thing, obviously I'm still at it but it really does help, keep it up :)

[EvaThornburn]

WOW, this story really caught my attention. Your imagery is fantastic. A NICE read.I really look forward to reading more of your writes. Eva