There are a lot of people not alive anymore because of me. I could sugarcoat it all I want, but I used to be essentially a hitman. It's not something I exactly sought out, but I'm a fairly gregarious and on-the-move guy, and as a result people in bars, casinos, restaurants, etc tend to open up to me. For whatever reason, conversation after a couple hours drifts toward the person in question having been screwed over in some massive way by someone else. Like, life ruining shit. And in many cases, they say something like "I'd give a million bucks to whoever found that guy and put a bullet in him." So I'd ask carefully, "You're serious about that? Because I mean, I know a guy..." and lo and behold, I have contact info and what can be described as a contract.

We all talk about how necessary laws are to a well-functioning society, but it's really amazing how many people are willing to throw that out the window when they're given a good enough opportunity and the prospect of not getting caught or having the blood on their hands.

I won't even try to justify it with a story of the "worst" guy I ever took down or anything like that. But for example, in one city, a really charismatic con artist of sorts had been dining in this restaurant with his friends, racked up a $300 bill, made the server cry, and then just dashed without paying. The owner was pissed and wanted someone to track the guy down. This particular one wasn't so much about money for me but the fact that the guy made some girl cry with his rudeness, lewd comments, and slave-driving. The story simply made my blood boil. So I tracked the guy down with a picture and some asking around, tailed him on his walking commute to work, and lured him into an alley with a story about my younger sister having just been raped and me needing help to carry her to safety. It helps that I still look about 16 despite being nearly out of my twenties. When he got to about the middle of the alley, I quietly pulled a knife out of my ankle sheath and stabbed him right through his spine. He dropped into a paralyzed heap, and I simply said, "You know why this happened. You think you get to just do what you did and walk away? No, I don't think so. Now you won't be walking away from anything." Then I left him there, grabbed the bike I stashed behind a dumpster, and left. Didn't even bother to go back to the owner of the restaurant, as I said this wasn't about money, more me avenging somebody else, so I got out of the city pretty much right after.