Viscious 2: Cult of Kellan

Storm 2.

                     *Kellan's POV*

            The rain obscures my view through the window, and I curse as I Bob and weave through the traffic. I am tired, and frustrated. Longing to pick up my phone to call my brother, but I know I cannot risk contacting him. Not yet. I am homeless, a traveler now. Reduced to flea bag motels and jobs that turn my stomach, but I'm free. I'm alive. Unlike those I have made my cash dealing with. Simon is always a last resort.

           Bastard that I am, even I have a threshold. There are some jobs that even I am not comfortable with. Working for Simon is one of those. I get to see the faces of missing men and women, long before they will make news. I get to dispose of them, and their bodies, long before some by standard stumbles across them. Assuming of course whether they were meant to be found or not. Simon sells sex, settles scores, sells organs, and weapons both on the dark web and on the black market. He sends tons of things and people overseas.

          Part of my job was to settle scores, murder those who owed money or had hits on them. The other part was to handle misbehavior and do away with damaged merchandise. Some nights I lay awake, screams and pleas still echoing in my ears. How my father had worked there for so long, I'll never know. It has been a year and I'm already excited to part ways. I split the door wide open, telling Simon my intentions to relocate and never letting the door touch my ass. Fuck that man.

          I had little choice though. I couldn't risk touching my bank accounts or getting a legitimate job. They'd ask too many questions. I needed to disappear for a while, long enough to be certain no updated or clearer images of me could surface. Shaving my head to reveal my tattoos, and trimming my beard down has helped tremendously. I've even walked past those little freaks on the street that have tried to adopt what they considered my image. They didn't even realize they were in the presence of the killer they adore.

         They believe that they and I are on the same level, like some sort of team. Imitation is only flattery for so long before it becomes outright agitating. I have past the amount of bullshit I am willing to put up with, between insults and ultimatum online to try to force my hand to reply. Little anonymous scoundrels vying for my attention. They want to know me, to identify me. I would kill them all first, if I could. I am one man versus a fleet of them. Thousands of them. I struck one down in warning after he boasted he would force himself on Alina, and I should have chosen silence. Because now, the freaks are in frenzy coordinating searches and meet up with others in attempt to locate Alina. Something I had yet to be able to do. Something I have tried to refrain from doing, until now.

         This new fad is making me nauseous. Everywhere I look, I see her. Then, I see the imposters. I hate each and every one of them, muddying the water, making it hard to locate her. Lifting my spirits, then crushing them. I have searched high and low for her, but until now I could not find her. The media hurts, far more than it will ever help though, and I know now that she is at the hospital with Dallas. Which is why I left Simon's, and where I am heading now. I need to see how difficult it would be to get past security and to her, or how often she comes out. I would prefer catch her in the parts the public occupies, or even in the parking lot. Somewhere with less cameras, but I would settle for a crowded area where I could blend into throngs of people enough to make getting a clear photo of me difficult.

         She will likely be alone, which will only work to my advantage. Media has shown no bonds with friends or her own family, only several snaps of her with Dallas. The photos of them together have been all over the television in every shithole hotel I've stayed in. All over the internet. Pictures of them laughing, dancing, chasing one another playfully through stores. Her curled behind him in the hospital bed. I nearly run a red-light as thoughts of them in bed together bombard my brain. I don't know why this bothers me, she was his before mine. She was never mine. She wasn't obliged to be faithful to me, especially after I had told her blatantly over and over that I had intentions to kill her. Yet, it still feels like betrayal.