Murder Incorporated

My professional designation is Iceman and I work for a company called Murder Incorporated, a private firm that contracts murder-for-hire to governments of the world. I started the company with friends to fulfill a need for those who want to rid our society of it’s deadweight that either doesn’t exist or is so public that conventional means of handling them is deemed impossible. It seems improbable that good people… The gentle… The meek… The kindhearted… Are needed to extinguish the flames of those who just don’t get it, but we are, and we do so with prejudice.

We are stuck in Hell as we followed Jesus there and have no choice but to fight fire with fire and give an eye for an eye and can provide information about what was going on in the secret realm of the Devil Incarnate. Things like who the real players and shakers are from the homeless man down in the hood who is engineering a new drug pandemic, to which middle management officials are plotting against our industries, to which terrorist organization is plotting the next big stock market crash, to which organized crime family is trying to elect the next world leaders.

Because of our histories we are trusted to tell the truth. We are the crème de la crème of the underworld, not because we want to be, but because we wanted to be. All through time our incarnations are well known, not because we pull strings to be famous, but because we accept the rewards that come with the danger of the game that we as a collective are forced to play.

Like in Hold ‘em Poker we bluff our way through assignments only to end up with the right cards because we are smart and know the outcome most times before setting out on an assignment. I personally play the lowest of the lows as my supreme hand, the off suit ace-two. I assume the worst, the trap, before seeing the best, four of a kind and often settle for the middle ground’s full house. This all because there is a lot of deadwood that corrupts, rots, decays, and strangles our society.

Deadweight, for whatever reason those in power should decide, is neutralized or eliminated as warranted and we get a lot of leeway in decision making in the field. Sometimes the marks have overstepped their bounds through extended actions like unfulfilled contractual obligations such as letting a mark go prematurely and having all hell break lose as a result, or having them return to what they formerly did and continue the abuse of our citizens, or even dive deeper into the underworld changing identities and surfacing at a later date to start an Apocalypse. Anyway you have it I get the call and for a cool quarter million of the contract’s price I will take care of your problem. I do make bonuses for a less messy result, and a happy face always means more then an ‘X’. I don’t blame them for hiding as fear is a powerful weapon.

I am a cat and they are the small, furry, sharp-sensed, and keen prey of a mouse. Most of the victims are spies, dangerous scientists, politicians, military leaders, or uber criminals that have wronged our combined rightfulness. The marks know when they are in trouble… It’s no secret when an open or closed contract is placed on the individual in question and quite often I am the troubleshooter. I solve problems and fix things for the better where the law fails or cannot be given a chance. Don’t get me wrong… I have a soul… I am human… I have a heart… I gave peace a chance… Now you’ve screwed up to the point of needing erasure. Yeah, that’s a technical term… Your life has been forfeit… Gone… Goodbye hand-shaken… Deleted. It’s a sad business, but I’ve learned to grow unattached to the waste… The garbage… The decrepit… The deserving few who thought they outsmarted the government and had gotten away with it.

I influence world events from behind the scenes as a silent player, a predator of those who would take advantage of our societies through evil intentions. They wish change for the wrong reasons and always run and hide when they become wanted. I enjoy stalking the prey more then the killing. The killing is the ultimate act when needed, but typically it’s not needed when you’re good at convincing people of even a slightly different approach. Tracking down people used to hiding and blending in can be hard, often impossible seeming.

I’m as silent and invisible as a Ninja and will stalk patiently, sometimes for years, waiting for my victims to appear on radar. Sometimes I have to track them halfway around the world through developing country’s cesspools such as their prisons, terrorist havens, backwoods, and secret government installations. From Nicaragua, to Iran, to Pakistan, to Nigeria, even to Rome I will wander looking for clues as to where I may meet you. The game ensues as prey evades me longer, leaving a crumb trail to follow while I warn the mark of impending doom for noncooperation .

As I’ve noted, Some of the people I’ve helped disappear are famous actors, musicians, drug dealers, politicians, and agents themselves. For whatever reason they were declared unneeded and found to be more a liability then a benefit to Earth. If you’ve done that much wrong and society has become your enemy, it is better to own up to your crimes and face the music… Do the dance… Stop courting danger and potentially live on in a new life. When the governments fail to get you busted, or you go missing when warranted and bounty hunters fail to find you is when I get the call. I’m a last resort and even then it’s not to late and you can still turn yourself in. I’ll ghost you for months negotiating a surrender… TURN YOURSELF IN… DON’T BE STUPID… I’LL GET YOU… finally, YOU”RE A DEADMAN.

I like to get up-close and personal with my client’s target to confirm true identity. I prefer to garotte my targets and get close enough to see the whites of their eyes and to smell their fear as they realize death has caught up to them. I use a length of piano wire to strangle my victims, pulling it tight with my leather-gloved hands, a loop formed at each end for extra leverage.

First off I sense an overwhelming panic as their hands flail at their necks while they try to get in a breath… Try to loosen the noose that is asphyxiating them… Try to understand what is going on… Try to silently plead for leniency even if they now have a heartbeat even auscultation could not hear. They get weaker as their struggles get slower and they eventually stop struggling as their eyes start to bulge out and their faces slowly change color. first off is blue from the blood vessels that carry blood through the meat of the face as the blood no longer carries oxygen. Then comes the red blotches as capillaries burst allowing contact with residual oxygen in the meat, creating a mosaic pattern known as a death mask. The muscles bruise from the struggle and the face turns blue, purple, and yellow. Finally I will silently lower you to the ground, dead, without a pulse.

Often, after the strangulation, I go to extra lengths to ensure death and dismember the corpses… Freaks have come back to life on me before just like that dude in the trunk in Good Fellas. You know the one they stabbed with mom’s butcher knife while calmly having tea and cookies. I then dispose of the evidence… Not in the classic shallow grave either… In a hole deep enough to be forgotten. You ever hear of the saying ‘Don’t bury me so deep that God forgets’? Well that’s what I do… Ten Feet… Twelve Feet… Out in the dessert when applicable. I cover the corpse, and fill the hole, with lime to speed decay of the corpse. I also smash teeth, burn fingerprints with a hot solder gun, and stab eyes to avoid identification. I make sure you disappear and have no life left… None.. Nothing… Not a trace… Not even the files of your life will remain by the time you are my victim.

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