Page 2 of Graves & Griggs
An address and a coded name.
Griggs.
Damn, that’s a shame. I actually liked that kid. He reminds me of a version of myself. He’s not nearly on my level, but he’s in his early twenties—he’s got time. According to this text, though, not much time at all. I knew his parents for years; we always ran into each other on jobs. Maxim and Putnam seemed to always have similar enemies. I’ve crossed paths with Griggs even recently. It’ll be a shame to eliminate all that raw talent.
Oh well.
Now to break the news to my very pregnant wife.
Nine hours later, I’m leaning against the wall on the second floor of an abandoned warehouse in New York. I sent Putnam an update of my ETA, and he said that all the materials would arrive shortly. I will say that seems to be the best part of doing jobs for the Brethren. They do all the heavy lifting. I don’t need to stake out or hunt people down. They hand deliver them to me on a platter, I do what I do best, then I walk away with my bank account significantly padded. Even more so for this job. I wonder what the kid did to deserve such a high price on his head.
A shadow catches my attention from outside, and I stand at attention, adrenaline pumping in my veins. It’s like a drug; one I will never tire of. The high that comes when you’re on that edge of life and death is unlike anything else in the world, and when two people walk in and only one walks out, you can’t help but feel like the ultimate victor.
I’ve grown accustomed to seeing clearly in the dark, but it’s very clear that Griggs is taking a moment to adjust as he slips inside the warehouse, staying well within the shadows. Apparently he thinks he beat his target here. That’s cute.
He clutches the duffle filled, no doubt, with his toys for the “job” he was sent on as he cases the place. I can’t help but have alittle fun with him. It would be a shame to see someone with so much potential go down before they even realized it.
I push the door to my right closed, allowing the soft snick to echo through the warehouse. Griggs’s head whips up, but he clearly is still struggling to see me. Grinning, I reach into my pocket and pull out a throwing star. The smooth metal feels like silk between my fingers before I wind my arm back and let it sail through the room. I throw it a hair high, and it embeds itself in the wall beside his head.
He drops into a roll before popping up again as my heart begins to thunder in my chest. The hunt is on.
I pull more stars out and begin throwing them, one by one, each narrowly missing him, then drop down to the first level, landing almost silently as I throw my last star. I can tell Griggs is becoming frustrated that he can’t see me, a knife on his hip and gun in his hand at the ready, but you can’t kill what you don’t see.
I pull out the gun from behind me, flick off the safety and fire a shot. The silencer keeps it quiet enough, only a soft whirr echoing through the warehouse. Griggs somehow expertly dodges it, impressing even me. I can’t help but giggle as the euphoria of the kill is right at the tip of my finger.
Deciding someone with his skills deserves an honorable death, I do him a favor and step into the light. The instant he sees me, confusion clouds his face.
“Graves?”
I nod. Though he can’t see the smile I’m giving him behind my mask, I know he can hear it in my words.
“You aren’t too bad, Griggs. Better than your parents were, I’d say.”
“Thanks,” he practically spits. “Any particular reason you’re trying to kill me?” he asks as I reach for my favorite knife, then swipe my hand out to plunge it inside him.
He lunges backward, his fist driving into my face beforeI return the favor. He’s within arm’s reach now. If I wanted to be quick about it, he’d be bleeding out on the floor already, but I’m having too much fun playing. It’s been a while since I’ve crossed paths with a worthy opponent.
Griggs’s mind appears to be spinning, as if he’s just put together that my target for the night is him. I take the opportunity to swing my knife out, catching his arm and slicing him open. The familiar feeling of blade tearing flesh runs through my knife and into my body like an electric zap I feel through every inch of my body. He grunts in pain as I deliver similar treatment to his other arm, forcing him to the floor.
The kid doesn’t go down easy, though, kicking his leg out and knocking me down with him. Holy shit, I won’t lie, that surprised me, and I can’t help but bust up laughing at the thought that he just got me onto my ass. My head throbs from the impact, and I touch the back of it. My fingers come back wet and red.
“Nice one! You’re a tough little fucker. Want a job?” I chuckle.
He huffs as we both jump to our feet. Blood pours from his arms and drips down my face. Then I make a move, and the gift it gives me is the feel of my blade sinking into his stomach. His breath is sucked out of him in an instant, and his eyes go wide with panic, like he’s never considered actually dying on a job.
That’s mistake number one. If you’re not mentally prepared to die, you don’t belong in this line of work.
He stumbles on his feet before slumping to the ground, blood pooling around him as his body begins to shake. That’s it? The great Griggs legacy is going to die just like this? Shame.
I tsk at him, shaking my head in disappointment as I circle him.
“Vincent Griggs,” I muse with a sigh. “Don’t you remember the first rule of mercenary work? Strike fast and strike first. I was down! You almost had me!” I shout in excitement before sighing once more.
“I’m not gonna lie, I was kinda bummed when I heard you weremy target. You’ve been fun to fuck with over the years, and you’ve got a lot of raw talent. A little coaching up and you could be a fucking animal.”
I can see the fight is leaving him by the second, but he seems to be holding on with everything he has just to stay awake. He knows as soon as he’s out, it’s all over.
“I’m your target?” he rasps. “Who took the hit out?”
