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.


1. What We Are, And What We Aren't

   He had left the computer going, that much he remembered. When he came to, it was blaring some song by Senses Fail, he had come to like their music as of late. His eyes lazily moved about in his skull, his vision blurred, but he could make out the M and N on his keyboard. It didn't help that there was a deep crimson iquid dripping onto the keys and running into his eyes. He watched it drip like tears onto the drowning keys. He began to laugh a low, but wild giggle as he sat up.

   "You dumbass," he said alloud. "Now matter how many times you bash your own skull in, you can't kill yourself. Hell, you can't die." Standing up from his computer chair he looked about his apartment; bloodstains on the back wall from where he blew his brains out last week with a .44 Magnum. The noose from thursday hung ragged and limp in the middle of the room. And now the blood stain on his computer, the desk, and the keyboard from when he bashed his own skull in just now. "Ah, well. I better clean this up before Lucian gets here."

   "Too, late Gideon," came the disarming voice of his friend from behind. "I see you got bored again." Lucian continued, motioning to the neuse over the couch. Gideon smirked as he wiped the blood from his mouth.

   "Yeah, I've been redecorating, like it?" He answered sarcastically. He strolled to the refrigerator, popped it open, stole a Coke and slammed it shut. Taking a sip from it he looked squarely at Lucian. "So, what brings you to apartment 115?" He never reffered to the apartment as 'Home,' simply because it wasn't.

   "The Orginization, has a work order for you," he repllied nonchalantly. "There's a punk in a gang who has gotten away killing three cops, two innocents, and an entire family of an 'enemy.' He's become a nusiance and so the Orginization wants him gone."

   "Oh boy, another nusiance call, let me guess someone else went after him and never returned," Gideon answered. Lucian nodded. Gideon laughed at the fact that someone was dead. No one lasted long in this job, they either were killed on a job, or they pissed off the Orginization. "Alright, how does it have to be done, clean or messy?"

   "Preferably messy," Lucian stated as he got up and handed Gideon the folder on the guy. As Lucian began to leave Gideon asked a question.

   "Hey Lucian, you and I have known each other for a little while know. Do you ever wish to be the way we were before that day?"

   "What we are, and what aren't was not up to us, but yes, sometimes I wish we could have grown up as normal... humans," Lucian finished as he walked out the door. Gideon smiled as he went down the hall to his room. Lucian could never bring himself to say 'Kids'. It reminded him too much of those happier days and the day they 'died'. They were just kids themselves then, now they were both monsters. Unable to die, but forced to kill to maintain some kind of natural order the Orginization worked to preserve. "Order huh, what a croc of shit."



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