geist alois

Another job well done, but what a mess the man's spattered brains and blood had made of the room. It certainly wasn't Alois's fault, even if he was the one that pulled the trigger. Some people just have to be silenced, for one reason or another. There was nothing left to do but clean up. He untied the body from the chair, letting it fall onto the tarps underneath to finish bleeding out. The others were rolled up and set to the side. Have to burn those later, he thought. But first things first, there was other business to attend to. He packed the now-drained body into a number of black bags. He made his way upstairs, changing out of the bloodstained clothing and eventually driving the sleek black luxury car away from the beautiful mansion he called home, bloody cargo sealed securely in the trunk.

Life was good.

What more was there to ask for? He was successful, rich, spent his life doing whatever he wanted and got rewarded for it. And why shouldn't he? The world itself recognized his superiority. It had to.

Still, this was a trip he was hoping to make quickly. It wasn't often that he drove the night streets, but no one would notice or care. It wouldn't take long...

Blinding headlights filled his rearview mirrors, and he swore under his breath. Tailgated? Why? He wasn't even driving slow. Irritated, he turned off, hoping to take another path to his destination. A second's darkness and the lights returned again, close enough that he feared they would scuff the back bumper. More worrying than that was the realization that he was being followed. A closer look revealed that it wasn't the police, but still, this was attention he would hope to avoid.

Remaining as calm as he could, he kept going, winding around back streets but his pursuer refused to let up. Suddenly, as he was about to turn a truck screeched its way in front of him and stopped, blocking his exit and forcing him to slam his breaks.
Alois reached into the glove compartment, pulling a gun from it and hiding it in his coat pocket just as someone stepped over. There was a knock on his window.

"What seems to be the trouble?" Alois said, his voice very tightly controlled. He met the gaze of a man roughly his age, dark-haired and vicious-looking, cold eyes boring into him. But Alois's were sharper still, icy blue and studying his face for the best place to bury a bullet.

"Don't play stupid with me, Mr. Lowe." the man growled, "A very valued associate of ours disappeared last night. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Oh dear, he thought. Was that poor sod in the back one of this man's boys? Or had it been another who refused to give up what was due? Who was this, anyway? Could be any number of people. Still, it wasn't his fault for any upsets, of course.

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," he said, voice smooth as silk, with a hint of steel underneath, "I'm certain this is all just a misunderstanding. Now if you could please just let me go..."

There was the sound of scraping metal behind his vehicle. Before he realized what was going on back there, he heard the trunk swing open, the tearing of plastic before a voice rang out.

"There he is! Back of his head's blown clean out!"

That was the breaking point. Before his foot could hit the gas pedal, a bullet burst its way through the car window, missing any vital parts but leaving a nasty gash against his cheek. The hole was followed by a fist that unlocked the door and dragged the man out. The boss threw Alois against the wall. He was prepared, of course, and scrambled back onto his feet immediately, pulling his gun.
In that last split second, his finger on the trigger and ready to fire back, he hesitated.

Six men surrounded him, all with guns trained on him.

Before he could fire once, twelve holes burst their way through his body, spattering their red mess on the wall behind him. Before he lost consciousness, there was one feeling, one last flicker that went through his dying mind. It wasn't pain.

It was fear. The first he'd ever remember feeling.

He awoke to the sound of screeching tires and gunfire. His icy eyes snapped open, scanning the surrounding area.

A quiet, peaceful hospital room. Sun was filtering in from the window, and his body was carefully wrapped in bandages.

He was alive? But how? He'd felt the cold embrace of death. His heart had stopped, and his blood still stained that back street, didn't it? It was all gone. All...

No, that wasn't right, he thought. The cogs began to turn. He had died, that much couldn't be denied. But here he was, breathing, his heart beating and only a dull ache coming from those twelve bullet holes, nothing more.

He had died, but not even death could stop him. He was above even that.

He couldn't help himself. He grinned and started to laugh, at no one in particular, but there was nothing else to do. This was pure euphoria, and that terrible spike of fear would never come to haunt him again. It couldn't.

After a few minutes, a creature of chrome metal, gunpowder, raining bullets, grinned back.