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Renfield the assassin

No one ever sees me at first. I’ve learnt to blend in with the night and to mask my footfalls. It helps me to hunt my victims more effectively. I’m what most psychologists would term a sociopath or psychopath. I’ve never been diagnosed by anyone as I’ve hidden my true nature for so long. I was a text book case resulting from parental abandonment issues, being moved around from home to home, forgotten, ignored and abused.

My career (if you could call it that) began with the killing of small insects, birds, small animals and then humans. Without remorse I’d watch as the light would disappear from their eyes. To kill is the nature of the beast. We’ve just been so civilised for so long we have forgotten. I’d find a victim and stalk it coldly. I'd toy and play with it cruelly. Letting it think it had a chance of escape until it was resigned to dying. The hope would fade from its eyes and power would fill every inch of me and then it would be dead.

They found me as I was approaching adulthood and gave me an offer to work for them. A quick dispatch of a Chinese Restaurant owner had raised my profile exponentially. He hadn't been a good man but I rarely care if they are or not. A kill is a kill. I don't moralise about it. We will all die someday. Some call me an assassin. I prefer the term ‘Natural Selector’. My handle is Renfield but I go by another name at home. I live with a woman who drinks a lot. She’s my link to normality. She thinks I adore her, stupid cow. I’m so good at putting up a façade. She doesn’t even realise all the time when I disappear for days on assignment. When she does, she scolds me good naturedly through an alcoholic haze. Her husband left her years ago and I’m company. We don’t even share a room. The thought makes me shudder with disgust. Sometimes I’ll watch her at night contemplating ending her life. She’ll wake and smile at me unaware of my murderous thoughts.

My latest assignment had been a good one. They had contacted me via post as usual. A lovely little post card addressed to Mr R Balinese. I had laughed inwardly at this private joke amongst us. My target was located in Lesnoy, Russia . I had broken into the local library to do some research on my target. His name was Dmitri Laminskenov, CEO of Laminskenov pharmaceuticals. He was married with four children. He had built up his company on the backs of hard working Russian workers and the money earned from black market dealings. On the surface he seemed like a good man. I knew better. Through my contacts I’d learned he was involved in animal testing, illegal arms trades, human trafficking, drug trafficking. His pharmaceutical company was his front. It had taken me two weeks to dig up everything about him that I’d need to get close. He had recently commissioned a biological airborne toxin which was in the test phases. This had infuriated my bosses. They wanted him taken out. His arrogance would be his undoing.

I had managed to stow away on an oil freighter travelling via the Barents Sea . Aeroplane manifests since 9-11 were too well documented and I wanted total anonymity. A good assassin is never seen. I had then stowed away undetected to Lesnoy aboard a coal train. People rarely notice the most obvious things. I had always been small; it was an advantage in my field.

I had waited in the dark outside his building. Dmitri had still been at work on the seventh floor. I had got past the alarms easily. I slunk in the shadows, following a guard right in. He never noticed me. They rarely do until it is too late. I found his office easily and waited in the dark. A door had opened letting in one of his mistresses. She was all flashy blonde garishness. I could smell her cheap perfume from across the room. Snorting inwards I cleared the door before it closed. I tiger crawled slowly behind one of his couches. He never noticed as he was so engrossed in her ministrations. I sat and waited patiently in the shadows hidden. They finished in what seemed like hours. Yawning delicately as she left I unclipped the tiny silver ball from my neck and rolled it towards him. He picked it up in puzzlement and sat down behind his desk.

I had spoken in Russian and my voice was scratchy from months of non-use, “Hello Dmitri.” I walked out of the shadows and his face creased in shock.

“By now, the poison in the ball should be working. It should clear your system in three minutes. You’ve made my bosses very angry with the toxin. You tested it on a few of our people... it seemed,” I had said quietly.

His face bulged and he slumped down in his chair as the toxin raced through his system. The look on his face was classic as he realised who had killed him. It was a mix of shock and horror. I felt a shudder of pleasure go right through me. Unfortunately for him, his throat was immobilised from the poison so he couldn’t shout out or move.

“It will look like a heart attack.” His eyes blazed as he had tried with all his might to move or speak. Giddy delight spiked through me as I watched his last breath gurgle in his throat.He slumped down as I walked to his desk. I nudged the ball softly with my foot (I had been inoculated against the poison before hand) into the darkness and attached it again. Patiently I waited until the door opened. A guard ran forward and I slipped out quietly. Another job well done…

Epilogue

Boris Yogovrinich sat and went through the video footage in the office. It showed Dmitri with his mistress. He slowed it down and saw in the shadows something moved. He zoomed in as much as he could. 'It’s a cat. How the hell did that get in there?' he thought to himself.   He watched as the cat played with the ball in the office and left. 'Natural causes' he thought. He heard a noise behind him and looked up into deadly eyes.

“No loose strings, Boris” the Balinese cat known as Renfield hissed at him just before he died.

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