1 CHAPTER - 1 { Hitman, At Top }
GROOM!
The dark clouds covering the sky rolled in, a thick branch of lightning struck down tearing the air open, later followed by a heavy roar of thunder.
On the edge of the rooftop of a huge skyscraper, a severely wounded man rested his back on the concrete and panted painfully. Each time he gasped for breath his body would ache and hurt.
"Fuck! Damn it! I should have seen it coming yet I couldn't! Ahhg!"
Through the three bullet wounds on his body, two in his stomach and one in his left leg, red warm blood seeped out and soaked his attire.
BANG! BANG!
"Fuck! He's here."
The man cursed, he listened to the loud gunshots and the steadily approaching footsteps with intense nervousness.
In the dark and cold weather, he looked straight towards the door to the rooftop with fear and terror in his face.
And as he expected, his demise finally arrived.
BANG!
The door lock burst open after the bullet broke it apart. From the inside, a kick slammed on the door and swung it open.
Wearing a black suit, dyed in red blood of all the victims he killed on his way, and a Glock-17 in his hand, he walked out in the open and stared at the wounded man.
His neck-length straight black hair dripped drops of blood, his face showed no remorse and his dark eyes narrowed on the man in front of him.
"You will die in about seven minutes from now due to the blood loss."
The wounded man gritted his teeth, then looked at the hitman before him with a shaky smile.
"Hitman, at top. Is this your way to say that I am going to die anyways even if you left me here?'
"Any last words?"
The hitman asked without caring about what the man said. He was hired to kill this man before the morning sun rises today. The price of a million dollars was no joke.
"Tell Fisk, I may be killed but to take my place more will come. What will he do then? Keep killing? Hahah!"
BANG!
The man's laughter was silenced by the bullet that pierced through the center of his forehead. His face frozen in time and his body with no movements were the only things left on the rooftop.
* * *
New York City, 2009.
Known for being the most popular city in the USA, it is home to almost a million people while many more are here for work.
In an apartment, hidden behind the tall skyscrapers. A large room was rented by a man, who is famous in the dark side of humanity as the— Hitman, At Top.
No other person than him has ever held the record for a 100% success rate in killing targets. The closest individual to him with about 93% success rate, Clint Barton.
The large apartment room was divided into four, a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and the living room.
Only a few pieces of furniture, some workout equipment and a wide television in the living room. This was the lifestyle of the— Hitman, At Top.
Guston Creed, a 28 years old man, half Asian and half American. Orphan at the age of 10, he started his journey as a hitman after coming out of the orphanage.
At first it was a way to earn money, but later it became his passion to kill. He learnt more than 50 different martial arts on his own while risking his life. His skills went beyond, completely out of his expectations.
Unknowingly, he had reached the top when it came to killing. He was hired by many powerful individuals and secret organizations to kill targets for them.
Fortunately none knew his real identity so he could enjoy the double life of his.
"Haah…"
Yawning, Creed rose from his bed and headed towards the bathroom to brush his teeth.
In the mirror appeared a man with no visible scars on his face, neck-length black hair, fair skin, black eyes and a good looking facial structure.
'My back hurts from all the running I did yesterday night.'
Creed frowned and massaged his spine. After brushing his teeth, he went to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast.
Click. The television was switched on.
[Breaking news! The owner of the shipping company, Latas Travel. He was murdered last night. It is still unknown who did this but police suspect that another shipping company must have been responsible for it.]
[The rise of Latas Travel created tension between the other shipping companies. It could be the reason that one of those companies killed Mr. Latas last night.]
[More than 18 people were killed in the process. How terrifying! The police have yet to make a statement but all I know is that you all should continue watching our news channel for further information.]
Creed watched the news with a sigh. He made sure to clean his tracks and leave behind some fake clues to other shipping companies.
After years of experience he collected, no way would he make mistakes.
Ring Ring.
The custom made phone, specially designed by him for untraceability, rang. Creed looked at the number and recognized it.
"You did an excellent job. As expected from the best hitman in the world."
The voice of a man, Wilson Grant Fisk, sounded from the other side of the call. In it was satisfaction, and joy.
"Transfer the rest of the money."
"Will do. Again, I have another target for you. A similar price, one million dollars. Are you up?"
Creed turned quiet, he had just completed a target and he was no superhuman. He also needed rest and some time off.
Fisk patiently awaited a response from Creed. Hitmen like Creed were rare and very hard to get in touch with. With Creed's help Fisk could possibly be able to take over New York City.
"The target?"
"Pete Vilski, the owner of Sea Way."
"Another one from a shipping company?"
"Yes. You see, I am in need of a stand and space is required for it. With so many shipping companies in the city, I need to make a place for myself."
Creed softly nodded his head as he cooked his breakfast while listening to the target details and time of termination.
'One week. That's enough time for me to prepare.'
After the call was cut, Creed ate his breakfast and spent the morning time watching television before deciding to head out for lunch.
It was 1:32 pm, the roads were filled with traveling cars and taxes. People were coming and going. New York City was as lively as ever.
Creed wandered around the streets, looking for nothing in particular. His preparation starts tomorrow so today was all free time.
"Someone stop him! Please! He took my purse!"
A cry called out from the small crowd near a junction of streets. Creed turned his head and saw a man dashing his way towards his direction with a lady's purse in his hands.
His face was covered in sweat, and he was worried. The distance between the man and Creed decreased very quickly with the man running fast.
"Please stop him! Someone!"
The woman's cry called out again. This time even more desperate. With the crowd blocking the view, Creed couldn't see the woman.
A good person would definitely help.
Creed took a step back and made way for the man with the purse. This action was without a doubt noticed by the man.
"Than-!"
He was about to thank Creed as he reached him but the strong pull from behind threw him back. Creed then stomped the man on his head and knocked him out.
"Haah! Haah! Thank you so much!"
Pushing her way out, a middle aged woman rushed and came towards Creed. She was out of breath. Looking at the man down with her purse, she couldn't thank Creed enough.
"No worries."
Creed smiled and continued in his walk. A gesture or act of kindness sometimes really brightens the mood.
