Cold Light - Blurred // Beyond

"Justice!? Righteous!? Keep that shit to yourselves!"
-Goro Akechi (Persona 5)

Start from the Beginning: Sinister Light - Fantasy // Line

"So, I'll see you tonight?"
I smile, taking the invitation from her hands. "Wouldn't miss it."
Serena moves in, cupping my face as her lips touched mine.
For about a good 2 minutes, our kiss stays as our eyes stay shut.
Finally, she pulls away and gives me a coy little smile. "Stick around longer tonight. Maybe I'll donate something to you too."
She winks, slowly and dramatically exiting the restaurant.
I wave goodbye, my face red and swooning from her touch.
All of which dropped to my usual, business like smile the moment she was out of the way.
I meant what it when I said I wasn't in the market for dating. But sometimes business means I have to use any means necessary.
After all, if I'm going to kill someone as high profile as her, I'm going to need to get closer.
It's a shame, really. I would have loved to sleep with her. But a job is a job.
My libido comes last. I'd rather have my money.
For potential clients in the market to have someone disappear, I have a far simpler method of contact compared to people who have complex systems like the Penthesilea Agency or Thanos Venge.
Word of mouth.
I may not make many friends(that I don't kill), but I do build a huge network of professional connections. I make nice with rich folk or other assassins who are morally fine with eliminating those in their way and in turn, they spread the word and hand out my calling cards that I leave around. In that card is a riddle and a phone number. If they solve the riddle and send the answer by text, the phone sends them a question sheet that they need to fill out and I review the request. If I think it's legitimate, I send them details about payment and burner phone numbers to let them contact me.
The riddle isn't all that complex but there's been a surge of clients and I think I should consider changing it.
Because I have no specific method of murder, I've been given many names because of my system of contact or my efficiency. Pandora, Silencer, Puzzle Box. But I think the one that stuck the most popular one is Checkmate. Clients are weird.
On to my current client, Hayner Mulch, President of Black Lily wants me to kill their philanthropist CEO, Serena Black. His best friend. And on a deadline too.
I have to get rid of her before she donates her company's money to the Eden Foundation. You must be thinking, why would anyone, much less her best friend, want to kill a nice lady for donating to a charity that helps fund housing for orphans? Envy? Bad blood?
Not those, but there are quite a few reasons actually. Serena, while kind as she is, is actually not very smart. Hayner knew that the Eden Foundation was part of a shady business that are orphaning children, taking them in, and housing them in these fake homes for show. Not only was a large amount of Black Lily's stock was going to be donated, but he also knew that the Eden Foundation were planning to use that money to cause a catastrophic shooting at a ghetto neighbourhood populated by Mexican immigrants and African Americans with police forces they have in their utility. They'll not only be orphaning children, they get to use this political outcry to promote that their company is part of the black lives matter movement and promote their cause to gain more donations. Of course, Serena didn't believe her best friend who himself has shady connections. Since the cops were in on this, there was no way he was going to turn this into them. Nor did he trust the FBI, considering his connections. When asking assassins to eliminate the Eden Foundation proved impossible because they all refused, me included, he asked me to kill her instead to at least prevent them from using their money for their plans. Ironically orphaning his god son.
Money's money. What happens to her spoiled kid isn't my business.

//
The Eden Foundation pre-partnership party starts at 6 in the evening. I have some time to kill, so I buy a new Tuxedo down at MJ Bale. They love me since I always come in to buy something instead of browsing.
Browsing at the store is a waste of time. I research what I want before I actually buy something so I won't hesitate like most people who come in to take a peak first.
Being firm about what you want will stop you from ever being hesitant. Hesitation is the last thing one needs when killing.
I say that, but at the moment, I hesitate entering Cloudy Day to buy my own pre-party caffeine. I'd rather not have another long conversation with Christine. Else I end up being rattled again.
But like she pointed out, I'd rather not drive to the farther cafes in the city.
So I suck it up and enter.
"Hi, welcome to-" Christine starts, pausing when she's me come in.
Though she stumbles a sec, her smile and cheery voice does not waver. "Oh hey, Patrick."
She turns around to face the coffee put for a sec and turns her head to me. "The usual?"
"Yeah." I say, placing the 5 dollars on the table.
"Thanks." She says. "Go take a seat. I'll bring it to you."
I nod, moving to find an empty booth. Though I really hope that by bring it to me she doesn't mean to have another unsettling conversation with me.
After about 4 minutes, she arrives with coffee in hand. "Here you go. And as always, thanks for the tip."
She turns to get back to work, her body indicating she's a little overworked and tired considering the lunch hour just ended.
For a second, I was glad she didn't stick around for round 2. But I spoke to soon.
"So hey." She suddenly says. "About this morning. Sorry about being weird. I really like you. I do. But I didn't mean to be assertive enough to make you uncomfortable. Sometimes I can be too much, as my mother used to say."
I take a sip and smile. "It's cool. It's a flattering that someone wants to throw themselves at me."
She laughs a little, turning her head towards my suit. "Oh! Someone's got a fancy suit. What's the occasion?"
"I'm going to a party." I tell her, trying to be as vague as possible.
"Okay. Wish you'd come in already wearing it though. I'd have love to see you look like James Bond."
"And risk accidentally spilling my coffee on it?" I say with a fake british accent. "Sorry, luv. I always have to be careful." 
Christine crosses her arms as she chuckles, nodding as she walks back to the counter.
As my eyes follow her, they trail off to find that man with the buzzcut sitting at another booth, talking to someone. Has he been here all day?
I've never seen him before, so it makes me cautious. But I don't feel too alarmed for some reason. Sometimes, tourists or business men do come here, so I put it out of my mind for now. I can investigate him later if he sticks around.
At the very least, I think it won't be awkward around Christine anymore.

//
I arrive 5 minutes early to the Black Manor located at the edge of Northbrick's cliffside.
The way I wormed myself into this party was simple. I "saved" her from a stick up. Like my data says, she's far too trusting for her own good. In a matter of 2 days, she already told me her sob life story of being a single mother who can't stand children in pain and how she was a mess before she turned her life around for her son. She's also got a dating problem.
By day 3, she already asked me to give her a chance to go out on a date. My guess, she's looking for a man responsible enough to take care of her son. Lady, your best friend is willing to adopt your kid after having you killed. Couldn't you just take him?
Thanks to this date, I found out she was deathly allergic to cumin after sending her meal back to have the cumin removed. She apparently nearly died years ago.
Again, too trusting.
This made moving forward with my plan far easier. I didn't have to sneak her out of the very well secured mansion just to shoot her somewhere and cover it up somehow.
I hired people to intercept her caterers and secretly swapped their precious chicken meals with ones stuffed with large servings of cumin disguised as rosemary seasoning.
It wasn't hard to get rid of any anti-allergy medication or epipens if there were never any in the premises. She's too cocky to believe she'd ever need any even when she knows a spoonful of cumin would kill her.
And her most fatal flaw would have to be living way too far from the city just to have a view every morning from her cliffside home. For someone so nice, she's got a pretty expensive taste in things.
Even if an ambulance makes it here, it'd be too late.
Serena, who was seated at a private table near the second floor railings, stood up
to call attention to guests on the first floor. This was her way of appearing very important. After all, if you have the high ground, you must be very important to have people beneath you.
Again, for a lady so nice, she has a pretty superior view of herself.
"Friends! Loved ones! Thank you for coming to my party this evening. Tonight is a special night, for this dinner will be for celebration of my upcoming partnership with the Eden Foundation!"
There are claps and fake smiles all around. I can tell that half of these people knew that this donation was a huge mistake.
"Children deserve to pick up their lives from the pain of losing their family. So a toast to giving orphans homes."
Everyone raises their glasses and take a sip.
"Now." She gives a wide, innocent smile. "Dig in!"
Everyone scatters across the room for their designated seating and she returns to her seat.
"She's doing great things." Someone said to me suddenly next to me.
Jacobi Black. Serena's teenage son. Also a nice kid.
I give him a sincere-ish smile. "Yeah."
"I'm proud of her you know?"
You really shouldn't be in a hurry to act and sound like an adult, kid. But then again, after tonight, you're going to have to be. "You should be."
I watch her, enjoying her chicken and coleslaw. Munching on what's already 3 spoonfuls of food.
It's in that moment that her happy expression begins to transform into horror. Her face begins swelling and turning red. 
I take this time to act suspicious, fabricating concern at the commotion taking place. "Hey, is something wrong with your mom?"
Jacobi walks forward to look. "Mom?"
She stands, her hands around her neck as she struggles to breathe.
"She's choking!" I shout, faking a distressed scream.
"MOM!" Jacobi rushes up the stairs, me following from behind.
Worried murmurs echo across the room.
Within an assumed 5 minutes, Serena Black will be dead. Her son will hold her hand, watching the life in her eyes disappear and a descent of rage will follow.
However, we weren't even halfway through the Black manor's outrageously long staircase when something incredibly convenient happened.
Serena stumbled and fell back, right towards the railing and down straight to the first floor.
There was a sickening crack as her body hit the ground. Her neck was bent ways that shouldn't be possible for anyone to survive. Her once beautiful face was bloated and oozing with blood and her limbs broken and bent out of shape.
Jacobi rushed back down, screaming for his mother again and again.
From the crowd, I spot my client, who watches in horror before closing his eyes.
He turns to me for a brief second, sending a short nod of acknowledgement, before rushing to pull Jacobi back.
I had kept myself looking devastated as police soon arrived to take statements. The catering service "admitted" to have confused rosemary and cumin together and that Serena Black's death was deemed a terrible, terrible accident. I had my own connections with the police so I made sure that there wouldn't be a heavier investigation.
A cop approached me, taking out a pen and a notepad.
"Save it." he says.
"Good evening to you too, Henry." I say quietly, not dropping my facade in the face of other guests.
"How much you make tonight?" he inquired, continuing to fabricate a report on his notepad.
"Probably a quarter of what she was going to give to that evil foundation."
"Mhmm." That's code for a drink soon.
He puts a hand over my shoulder, as if to comfort me. "Maybe somewhere fancier this time?"
"Fine." I wipe tears from my eyes. 
"You're free to go."
I nod, preparing to walk out.
Before I leave, I move towards Jacobi, who was sobbing into the President's chest.
I knelt down and pat his back.
"She was all I had. And I was all she needed." He suddenly said in between sobs. "She lived for me and for those kids that suffer. Mom was everything. What do I have to live for anymore?"
My body cringes and I find myself silent for a few seconds before I can formulate a response.
"She would want you to live on." He didn't even respond, just pushing himself off and running straight for his room.
Black Lily's President turns to me, opening his mouth to say something that I know was about my report. I shake my head in response, only pointing to the phone in my pocket to tell him to just text me. I walk away as the cops put a tarp over Serena's body. I could only keep my hands on my face as I blended with the crowd of horrified guests on their way out. Some of them were even saying that they knew this was coming. To them, I must look like I'm devastated. In reality, I'm smiling and suppressing a laugh at the ridiculous chain of events that transpired tonight. It wasn't until I was halfway back to my car that I finally managed to control myself.
The moment I made it to my car, I stop a few seconds to breathe in and breathe out.

"Taylor?" That wasn't my name. I know it wasn't my name. So why did I turn around?
From behind me, the same man with a buzzcut from the cafe earlier approached me. He wore a brown leather jacket and jeans, making him stand out from everyone who seemed to have gussied up to look fancy tonight. How did I or anyone else not noticed him?
"Taylor." He repeats himself. Before I can respond, something flashes in my head. This static-y image. This black and white image of a boy standing over me. A long, thought to be forgotten image. 
My head begins to hurt and I stumbled back.
"Hey are you-"
"That's not..." I can't even completely say that's not my name and just get in to my car.
The man taps at my window as I start my engine to drive off.
From behind me, I can hear him give chase for a bit and shouting that name again.
I nearly swerve but manage to regain control.
Why did he call me Taylor?

What just happened?

Continue to the next chapter: Hallowed Light - Unravelling // Awakened

-Author Notes:
Hope you all enjoyed Part two of the Light series.
The last two parts of the series is what I haven't totally finished yet and will take time to release so stay tuned.

Sinister Light - Fantasy // Line

"I gave up everything. EVERYTHING!"
-Takuto Maruki (Persona 5 Royal)

There was something calming about killing people at Twilight's light. Not that anyone ever realized that the dead were really dead by the time I had my hands on them.
A fine show of where I've brought myself in my line of work.
In an underground network full of crooks and sketchy men, I like to believe the name Patrick Walsh has power. Just below Gyle Winfreed, a terrifying ex-assassin, and just above the likes of Thanos Venge, a hacker from Eastbrick. Not that I believe he was any more of a threat to the criminal underworld than Gyle these days.
My hands reached for my phone, already anticipating that the client was calling. I can never really comprehend how the clients seem to call just after I finish someone off. Was it intuition? Or was it impatience?
"It's done." I say to my current client.
Quentin Leed. A young intern for one of those sketchy multi-million companies. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time, and he just couldn't keep his mouth shut.
I try not to get attached to my clients details. It makes it so much easier to snuff a life out.
No hard feelings Quentin. I like to survive.
Killing him wasn't nearly as fun as I anticipated. I heard he had a black belt in Judo. But then again, I'm more of a pragmatist. There are no rules in my type of engagement. I will kill without any hesitation and with any resource I have.
I waited for him to do his daily jog. His route was stupid enough to bring him to the woods. And there, I slit his throat and buried him in a 10 foot hole and filled it with concrete.
At the end of the day, I get to come home with a fat envelope and I can continue paying for Netflix and buying whatever the hell I want.
It makes me wonder why people like Gyle would leave. I hear it was for love, but I don't believe in that bullshit.
Justice and morals are useless. Justice is hard to believe in in this world where corruption lives on even in the lives of the simple men of simple lives.
Look at Thanos Venge. He lives on revenge, his way of justice, but he's just one person. And its not like he's doing it for free.
And years ago, there was this woman I respected. Her ability was like no other. Though I nor anyone can quite remember her name. Just the initials E.R.
I heard she lived as she died, standing by her beliefs that stood within that grey line of morality.
Peers often ask me what I live for.
Honestly, I can kill anyone in a heartbeat and that's the only question that stops me.
Its kept me up at night sometimes.
I took life so easy, but I can't justify mine.
What did I live for?
At this point, nothing really.

//

In my off days away from my usual grind, I liked to take up a thousand hobbies to try and replicate the feeling of accomplishment that I used to feel when I did a job successfully.
Away from the occasional fighters, my job has been boringly easy.
And I've lost any form of excitement.
But honestly, nothing evokes a sensation. Video games are exciting for a few hours before they get predictable. Sports become way too repetitive. And I've dabbled in some degree of literature. Nothing too interesting to keep me going.
Cooking was an essential skill I needed to learn at a young age. Though there has been a blur in my memories regarding my past.
Like a block that took away what I once was.
The only bits and pieces I have of what I was in my youth was some faces I knew, certain skills that could keep me alive, and a dark patch where I remember a teenager blocking me from another man. My family I assume.
That teenager's face was so obscure that I never could quite replicate it in drawing, another skill I had. I used to look for him. But I've long since gave up. There was no point in trying to look for someone who could be gone.
If you ask me what my earliest memories were, I'd outright lie to you.
I'm a freelance killer, not a hired friend. I won't tell you anything about myself because anyone, a friend, a lover, a client, can become a target. And I've been hardened enough to not keep many attachments close. Makes it easier to kill someone when they tell you "You were my friend".
But... if by some rare chance I did value you enough to keep you off my little black book, I will admit to you that the last real memory I can think of is actually starting my training from the first person I could never kill. My instructor, whose name has already been erased from society so he too can live a normal life, watched over me and left me to believe he was the only family I had left.

//

"Oh, Pat. Come for the usual?" This was Christine Mackenzie. A young girl who operates the cafe right across my apartment. She likes me for some strange reason. I won't lie, I like the view. But I'm not nearly as horny as 98 percent of the white male populace nor am I looking to date so I'm just here for the coffee. 
I give her a polite nod and take out the prepared 5 dollars in my pocket. tt's 2.50 for Cloudy Day Cafe's average cup of coffee. But it's common courtesy to leave a tip so I just hand it to her and she doesn't give me the change anymore after I continued to insist on her keeping it.
"You know, I'm just gonna say it straight out." She suddenly says. "You've been coming to this cafe for so long and only during my shift."
It's not like it was my fault I wanted coffee in the morning nor am I god to put you in the same crappy 7 A.M shift you're on.
She gives one of those silly half smiles she likes to give to the customers. "How long is it gonna take you to ask me out on a date yet?"
Spunky. I thought. I usually do something for girls to want me whenever I need something from them.
I don't think buying coffee regularly should mean I'm actually trying.
Was I really that hot?
"You're joking right? Christine, you don't even know me. For all you know, I could be some psychotic killer."
Psychotic's a strong word, but you get the point.
The semi-rude tone doesn't stop her. Her smile now a full on beam. "Then let me get to know you. I want to take a peak into that brain of yours."
No thank you. I doubt you'd be able to handle what's in my grey matter.
Should I start looking for another cafe? Ah, but the average cafes here in Northbrick, Colorado stray too far from each other to give each one located in each sector of the city a fair shot. I'm not about to drive to the Starbucks in Lindholm Street for that.
Or I could say no thank you. Polite rejection should stop anyone.
"Sorry but maybe I'll pass." I say. She doesn't lower her cheeky smile. "It's just, you have to understand that I don't really know you. You can't seriously just make me go out with someone I hardly know."
She laughs. "You sound like a girl. But I understand the logic. If only other men knew how to act like that."
Insult aside, I guess it worked.
She hands the coffee to me but suddenly backs it up. "Or, we can start by being friends."
Why is she suddenly so persistent?
She chuckles and hands me the cup. "My break's in 5 minutes. Talking casually can't hurt, can it?"
I'm too speechless to counter argue and just walk to a table. Maybe if I leave she'll back off.
On the other hand, I might get banned from buying here and I really don't want to buy instant coffee.
Sure enough, 5 minutes later she was sitting in front of me like we've been chums since forever.
"You're so persistent, you know?" I say. Almost impressed but sure to add attitude.
She shrugs it off and crosses her arms. "So I've been told."
Taking a sip of my coffee, I try to read into this to get a grasp on what her deal was. But from my view, all I see is a curious girl showing way too much cleavage and seemingly overworked with those tired looking hands of hers.
"Why do you want to get to know me anyway? I'm just a regular you make idle small talk with. What on earth possessed you to want to go out with me? Are you horny?"
Oops. That last one just slipped out.
Instead of offense, she's completely doubled over. "With that wit? I already love you."
She takes a few seconds to collect herself before continuing. "There's something interesting behind those innocent looking eyes of yours. A story. I like that in a person."
"You like... People who look like they're hiding really dark secrets?"I say, pretending to look offended.
She waves  her hands to try and defend her answer. "AND you look great. You can hide it in that coat but you've got the bod and I've already confirmed you've got the common decency and humor."
I really want to roll my eyes. Presumptuous people are the worst kind of people I deal with daily. 
"That's kinda creepy." I say. "Aren't you at all worried that I just might never come back for you trying to hit on me?"
Christine smirks and leans in closer. "Well, from the way you seem to come here, I take it you don't bother with the other cafes in the area so I'm sure you won't run."
For a second, she's a little too close for comfort, but she eventually backs away. "I guess I'm just saying I'm curious."
"Why can't you be curious about the other regulars?" I ask.
Her face grows bored and she turns to the other tables that had many of the familiar faces.
One by one, she points out each and every regular I see coming in. "Divorcee, smug entrepreneur, twelve stepping drug addict, hopeless romantic, and angry college student."
She turns to me. "They're too easy."
I knew she was right because I made sure to gather data about people around here to make sure no one around Northbrick would be a threat.
 Aside from that assassin from the Penthesilea Agency who got rid of that painter before leaving, I was sure that no one could compromise me.
But this pushy girl is letting it seem like she knows more than what her file says. Or am I just too paranoid?
"And what is it about me that  doesn't seem easy?"
"Like I said. Your eyes." She inclines her head as she keeps her gaze on my eyes. "Something's in there. And like, it makes me want to ask what you live for."
That question again. That damn question again. I don't know if I seem rattled, but this conversation is really not entertaining anymore.
"Sorry, did I hit a nerve?" She asked, sincerely. "It's just... There really is something about you that's intriguing."
We're silent for a few minutes. My coffee is getting cold in my hand but I feel paralyzed to my seat.
"Sorry. I think I'm making you uncomfortable."
She wasn't wrong. I haven't been this uncomfortable since I watched a man willingly eat a vat of acid.
"Nah." I wave it off, trying to reestablish my non-work facade. "Just some deep questions that I have no answers to. Believe it or not, I'm just an ordinary, overworked office worker."
Christine chuckles, taking the cup I hand her as she stands. "Ordinary people don't exist."

She takes over for Cherie at the counter and serves a sharp-looking man with a buzzcut. She gives me a small wave as I walk off, her questions still lingering in my head.

Continue to Part 2: Cold Light - Blurred // Beyond

Author's notes:
I hope you like it. This story was originally something else but I've forgotten the concept I originally adapted and came up with this recently.
I've already finished like 85 percent of this story but it's too long to put in one post. So stay tuned for the next parts of the Light Trilogy.