The Marked

There is no greater hell than wanting to die but not being able to. Gideon Anderson is my name, and killing others is my game. I am a marked one, those damned for all eternity for something, they don't tell us what we did, only what they want from us.
NOTE: This movella contains graphic material, scens of violence and profuse language use. Not suggested for those opposed to such material; read with caution.


2. One Life for Another

   Gideon opened the door to his room. As he walked in he was enveloped into a deep darkness that was his room. Only a few candles provided a dim light source for him to navigate by. It didn't matter though because he liked it that way. He flopped on his bed for a moment, but abruptly sat up for the linens of the bed were the same velvety smoothness of the casket he was laid in upon his burial. It was macabre how he had been dead for a week and yet his minor connection to his physical being allowed him to feel the velvet of the coffin's interior; it was disgusting to him to think about it. He turned on the reading lamp beside his bed and opened the file. 

   "Carter Hendricks," Gideon said aloud. "What poor fortune you have in being marked as my target, don't worry though, I'll make your death quick." He envied the gangster. This man could die and stay dead where Gideon couldn't and that bothered him.  Standing up he put the file on the bed as he stripped his bloodied shirt off and flung it onto the ground. He crossed his arms and rubbed his hands up and down his upper arms and shoulders as he exhaled a breath. "Still feels cold, and a bit clammy," he thought to himself. That's how he felt on that April day when he died. He felt an ache in his head and before he knew it he had passed out.


   "Hurry up Gideon!" Called Lucian as he ran over the grassy hill. 

   "I'm coming!" He yelled. "Slow up a bit, you're not carrying three bags of groceries!" The sky was overcast that day, and a light mist had enveloped the small town the two boys called home. The wind whipped about making his deep brown hair fling about covering his eyes. As he brushed his hair aside he descended the hill down to the main road where Lucian was waiting. 

   "The groceries don't mean a darn thing, you've always been slow!" Lucian laughed over the wind as his friend came near. "Here, let me take one, that way we can speed up getting back to your house a bit."

   "Thanks," He said as he handed the bag over to his friend. "Alright come on, let's get out of here," Gideon smiled as he began walking down the side of the road, his friend following. Then the horrible thing happened; there was a screech of tires and then darkness. When he awoke again he was in some strange looking pod-like structure. He had a hose like object attached to his face pumping oxygen. He looked around, but his vision was too blurry to make out anything.

   "Ah, the patient is awake," came a deep male voice from seemingly nowhere. The sound of the voice was clear to him that it was being modified by a voice modulator. "Let's ask him a few questions to see what he knows, monitor his brain waves and heart rate," the voice continued.

   "Where am I?" Gideon asked dazed, in a low moan. "Am I alive?"

   "In a matter  of speaking, you are alive," the voice responded. "Do you know who you are?"

   "Gideon Anderson," he responded. "Again, where am I?" Gideon waited for a response intently. 

   "You're in a secure location for your recovery Gideon, that's all you need to know right now," the voice finally responded. "Do you know what happened to you?" the voice asked. 

   "No I... Wait what happened to Lucian? Where am I!? ARGH! And why the hell does my head hurt so much!?" Gideon began to slip into a fit of rage and began kicking and punching blindly. "Let me out of here!" he yelled in a panic. His vision now returned he beheld a horrible sight; he was strapped to a bed of sorts inside a capsule with all sorts of needles and tubes pumping liquid in and out of him. "NO, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?" he screeched in terror, as he began punching again.

   "Oh no! Quick, restrain him!" the modulated voice yelled as alarms began to blare. It was too late, Gideon had found a release valve and accidently kicked it; the seal on the capsule released and popped open. Seeing his chance Gideon acting on instinct lept from the pod ripping the needles and tubes from his body as he went.

   "God dammit!" the voice shouted. "He's gotten out, someone put him under for god's sake!"

   "Screw you!" Gideon yelled. He quickly looked around the room; tiled floor, low lighting, and only the pod he was in and some surgical equipment. The tile floor felt cold on his bare feet. That's when Gideon noticed he was missing all his clothes except for his shorts. Suddenly a loud high pitched whining noise ran through his head. "Ah! Make it stop!" he screamed in pain as he collapsed to the cold, hard floor. His vision began to fade again as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, then everything went black.


   Gideon suddenly shot himself awake. He looked around, dim lighting, large bed, Gideon was awake in his room. He immediately began to calm down. 

   "Just a dream...." Gideon whispered to himself. "Just a god damn dream." Realizing he had a mission to still complete he quickly changed his clothes, grabbed a MAC-10 from the closet, loaded it with a fresh clip, slipped the folder into his jacket sleeve and exited the apartment.

   The streets of the outskirts of town were made of cobblestone and always reminded Gideon of the hard life he lived; that of a cold walking dead guy essentially. It was lightly misting out, there was fog coming in off the river bank nearby. As Gideon walked he felt a sort of comfort in the dismal surroundings in which he found himself. He knew the address of where to find Mr. Hendricks, it a was a bar called the Rat's Nest. It was on Fifth and Lexington about two blocks from his apartment, lucky him. Hendricks was out side the bar in the alley way with another guy. It was obvious from Gideon's perspective that the guy was dealing drugs.

   "Stupid idiot doesn't know what he's getting into," he whispered to himself. "Alright, time to get the blood flow a pumpin' and end this guy." Gideon walked over to the two and when the other guy, who looked homeless saw Gideon he bolted. 

   "Hey cabron! Where you think you're going man!?" Hendricks yelled. He turned to see Gideon walking his way. "Yo! What the hell man! You're scaring business! Hey asshole, I'm talking to you!" Hendricks was getting pissed, who was this little prick, and how dare he interrupt him during a buisness transaction. "I'm gonna kill you for screwing with my buisness!"  And with that Hendricks pulled out a Glock 18 and emptied a clip into Gideon. Blood spurted everywhere as Gideon's chest was torn apart. Hendricks laughed as he watched the kid collapse. "Ha serves you right for messing with me!" Satisfied with the killing, Hendricks turned around and began to leave.

   "Hey asshole!" came a voice from behind. "Is that any way to treat a kid minding his own buisness!?"

   ""Watch what you say man, I'll kill you too..." Hendricks trailed off in terror as he watched the kid he just blew away stand up as the bullets dropped out of him. The kid's chest was all torn apart, blood, muscular tissue hung limp, his organs were exposed in one place and yet the kid was standing, and even raising a gun at him. "What the fuck!?" He stammered as he quickly began to reload the Glock.

   "I hope you've made peace with God dirtbag, cause you're gonna die. Here, and Now!"  Gideon yelled smiling a vicious smile of dark intent as he pulled the trigger. The gun rattled violently as Gideon emptied the 30 round clip into the gangster. Hendricks' body began to disintegrate as the shredder rounds that Gideon had loaded whizzed through the air blowing through his body. He collapsed to the ground a bloody, pulputated heap.  Gideon walked over to the heap as his insides began to heal themselves, knelt beside the corpse and did two things; one he inserted all the incriminating evidence of all the cases he had gotten away with and second, he took the Glock as a trophy.

   "One life for another," Gideon thought to himself as he walked through the crowd of terror stricken people. "My god, my one life has been a very costly endeavor then." As he vanished into the fog he began whistling Glory Hallelujah, smiling the most innocent smile he could make. 

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