His eyes gleamed with the thought of it. The plan seemed perfect in his head. Though he would have preferred to do everything on paper, while paying attention to the minutest of details, but he was afraid of getting caught. Besides, having no material evidence was perfect. That way he could forget everything. It wasn't a hasty decision. It was carefully weaved over several months. Even in his mind, he went through every single detail - including the body perfume he would use to overpower his natural scent.
The day of execution had arrived, literally. For how many, is the only question he didn't have an answer to. But it hardly mattered to him. He had resigned to the will of destiny long back. So long back that he couldn't even remember the day he transformed from a bespectacled nerd, considered an authority in corporate law in the entire college. He believed in himself. And his dreams. Dreams which would take him so high that moon would stop appearing as a distant celestial object.
Oblivious to his engrossment in all the three dimensions of time, two eyes hidden behind black goggles were observing him intently. They belonged to a lean figure, which had a dominating presence, but at the same time was inconspicuous. His face carried a grim expression - that's how Premonition would have looked. There was something inexplicably weird about him. He was unusually inanimate, yet alive. He didn't seem to be breathing air... but he was definitely inhaling something. Hours passed by. Still he stayed there, as motionless as a cold man, with his gaze fixed on the conspiring man.
Schlemiel will be the name he'll introduce himself to the doorman. It was ironic. But everything is ironic depending upon how many parts are visible to you. Anyway, the doorkeeper accepted the name without a trace of suspicion and admitted him inside the house. Schlemiel's eyes lazily moved around every corner of the room. Everything was splendid. He liked the ceiling the most. It was perfect. No stains, no fashionable masonry. Nothing to blemish the perfection. He liked everything this way. Stunningly white. Anything interfering in the integrity of it troubled him beyond relief. The house reminded him of his school days...
Reed nodded.
Schlemiel felt inkling in his right wrist. Involuntarily he looked at his wristwatch. It was time. He ran across the room, the hallway, another room. He wasn't bothered about being spotted - cause no one would. He had done his homework. Before long he was standing next to the door of a bathroom. He could hear the shower and silhouette of a woman under it. He lips curled up into a wicked smile. The exact smile that was on Reed's face too. Reed, who was still observing him, was as motionless as ever. The wicked smile was like a loud laughter in that pin-drop silence, mocking the promise he had made to that girl. She was fat and ugly and stupid. No man, certainly not one good-looking and charming as Schlemiel, could have made those promises of love to such an ugly bitch. But she fell for him. Her father had warned her to keep away from men. He knew how cruel the world is. Evidently, the daughter hadn't listened to him.
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He was only 12 when his parents were brutally murdered right in front of his eyes, all for a few dollars and courage. Orphaned and homeless, he was 19 now and had seen everything that fell under the domain of the word cruelty. But today she shall have his revenge. Not from the very murderers who rendered him homeless, but from the society. It was the society who had created those monsters. But he had no means of accomplishing what he wanted to. His plan required money, lots of it. It was imperative that he become a hugely successful in the eyes of this evil society and then carry-out his work. He was convinced about the nobility of his aim and was willing to do anything to realize it.
His eyes involuntarily took a break from the intense planning and fell on the latest edition of The Morning Post. A business tycoon along with his family was brutally murdered in his very mansion. “Served him right”, he thought. Schlemiel was the name of the man suspected to have killed them. Some recognized him as the tycoon’s daughter’s lover. He chuckled at the irony. Suddenly his face grew rigid and stern. Schlemiel, yes that’s the name he would use too. An identical story will be seen in tomorrow’s newspaper. No one would know. No one.
Reed just smiled, looking at the latest Schlemiel in creation. How easy did he find to manipulate people? Making them do what he wanted them to do. Give them an excuse to overcome the guilt, and they’ll do almost anything.
Reed. He called himself G Reed.
