Damn…..

  Who knew alot can change in one night, one moment you were just doing my job as a bartender and the next you became the most wanted man in the state…light laugh shits is crazy

  You might be wondering how I ended up like this

  Well it all started…

  you know what…

  before that, let me properly introduce myself

  Hi, am Chase McCoy.

  Am 20 year old nobody working as a bartender at the local bar around Pithill, but most times that bartender money isn't enough to make a living so…due to some circumstances I became a hitman.

  Anyways, now that you up to speed into who I'm or…was

  Let me take you back to where this whole mess all started.

  It was a normal Wednesday afternoon, I was doing my job, pouring some shots for the consumers/drunkie as usual, then the tv above the liquor shelves buzzed with static before tuning into the late-night news. (if you're confused, don't worry, so am i)

  Anyways I wasn't really paying attention to it till they mentioned something about me or should I say something about a “murder” saying…

  …authorities are still investigating the assassination of French celebrity “Laurent Devereaux” the anchor said. “The killing occurred 2 weeks ago, at night time—

  I turned the volume down.

  No need to relive it. I already knew how it ended.

  Two shots to the head.

  The guy collapsed.

  Everywhere was quiet.

  The man never heard the sound that killed him.

  Honestly? I almost felt bad.

  Almost….

  Someone laughed at the far end of the bar.

  A couple argued in whispers.

  Glass clinked.

  Life kept moving like nobody famous had just stopped breathing.

  That’s the thing about death—it doesn’t interrupt happy hour, and we can move on from it.

  Later…The bell above the door chimed.

  I felt it before I saw it.

  The room shifted. Like everyone’s instincts leaned forward at the same time.

  Three guys walked in. All wearing a hat and coat like it's an 80s movie.

  One of them limped, pretending he didn’t. Another kept checking his reflection instead of faces.

  I had no doubts…

  These were Eddie's boys.

  Great. I was already overbooked, anyway.

  I stayed relaxed. That’s not even an act—it’s basically my whole lifestyle. Besides, if you panic every time you're in danger, you don’t get to live long enough to tell the tale.

  They sat at the bar.

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  One of them leaned in and asked. “You Chase?”

  I looked at him. Raised an eyebrow. While pouring a glass of whiskey

  “Depends, can't you read name tags?”

  The goon then frowned, mildly raising his voice

  “Oh you think you're funny?”

  Look, I said calmly. Are you here for a drink or to interview a nobody working at a bar? Your call buddy…

  The other goon whispers something into the guy's ear and he sits, not saying anything

  I get suspicious but didn't say anything, I mean there was nothing to say anyways

  I poured them whiskey they didn’t asked for. Everyone thinks they choose their drink. They don’t.

  The stupid TV buzzed again.

  “…sources are calling the suspect one of the most efficient contract killers in the state—”

  Someone turned the volume back up.

  I sighed. “Can we not do this?”

  The anchor continued.

  “—commonly referred to as The Killer Noir—”

  Then everyone in the bar started talking about The Killer Noir

  They started conspiracy theories

  Saying that I was actually a ghost

  Some said they were a fan

  Others said I was the grim reaper reincarnated

  Or even Jeepers Creepers

  It was fun for awhile but now it's just getting annoying

  A guy nearby laughed and said, “The Noir Killer? That’s a stupid name.”

  “Tell me about it?” I said. “Sounds like something you get from a name generator.”

  Meanwhile in my head, I’m still wondering if I continue this, how long can I go before I get caught? I mean I've been doing this not too long ago and now am gaining fame like Prime MJ.

  As my thoughts starts to consume me

  My phone buzzed in my pocket.

  Once.

  Then again.

  I didn’t check it at first.

  I already knew who it was…

  My little sister, Jasmine, always texted twice when something goes wrong.

  I finally checked it after asking for a bathroom break

  And she sent a photo of their apartment getting trashed up, saying…

  “Big brother”

  “I just got home and saw our apartment like this??

  “Jasmine didn't do it I swear”

  “Pls come home soon”

  For the first time in years.

  I actually got worried

  I texted her back

  “Go to your friend's place”

  “I'll pick you up from there”

  “Okay” she texted back

  I hung my apron and told one of my coworkers that I have to leave that it's a family emergency

  He tried explaining to me that the boss doesn't like it when we leave with his consent, that bluh bluh bluh I wasn't really listening.

  So I left anyways

  I got on my motorcycle and drove to the apartment complex first

  To see the mess myself

  And when I got there, yep, it was a mess alright but now I saw something written on the wall this time.

  I stepped closer, and saw the a message on the wall

  saying…

  “We know who you are”

  In my head I was already tired, so seeing this just gets me exhausted

  Then the muddy footprints on the floor caught my attention.

  Still wet.

  The home wrecker is still here

  I exhaled slowly.

  “Of course,” I muttered. “Why would tonight be simple?”

  The air shifted behind me.

  As I moved before I got hit.

  Something heavy swung behind me, where my head had been a second earlier, smashing into the wall with a dull crack. A crowbar.

  I turned just as the guy recovered—mid-twenties, jittery, eyes too wide. Nervous. Desperate. And the worst kind.

  “Hey,” I said, hands up slightly. “Didnt your parents teach you not to wear shoes in the house?”

  He didn’t laugh or react.

  He swung again.

  And again

  Nonetheless I tried talking to him as I kept dodging, saying

  Hey, crowbar guy?

  Nice to meet you and all but you're kinda messing up my place and I don't really have insurance so, why don't you just get out.

  But I don't think he listened as he almost decapitated my head with the dang crowbar

  Almost…

  So I got tired of playing around and closed the distance instead of backing away this time.

  I grabbed his wrist, twisted it, and felt his grip break as the crowbar hit the floor.

  He stumbled back, swearing.

  I didn’t give him time to recover and shove him to the ground. Hitting his head really hard,

  As I got closer to him, pulling my gun out as he scramble to crawl away.

  “Relax,” I said. “If I wanted you dead, we’d already be done.”

  That made him panic. I could literally see the fear in his eyes

  Light chuckle Big mistake

  He lunged again—sloppy this time.

  I shot at his leg

  He fell to the ground in screaming in agony but…

  He tries to lunged at me again

  This time I shot other leg

  He's in pain and unable to move

  I didn’t rush. I didn’t need to.

  He stumbles around, still screaming in agony for what seems like hours

  When it was over, he was sitting at the corner, shaking, clutching his arm, eyes locked on me like I was something out of a horror movie.

  I crouched beside him. Almost feeling bad for him

  “Who sent you?” I asked

  What? He replied scared and hesitant.

  That's not a nameeeee, I replied tiredly while pointing a gun to his temple

  “It WAS Ed, he blurted out, ED THE FUCKING DEAD, He repeatedly said as he also begs me to drop the gun.

  “So,” I said quietly, “this was just a test?”

  He nodded fast. “They just wanted to know if it was really you. If Chase McCoy was—”

  I got that, I replied as I slowly stood up, letting out a big sigh

  Well I already knew this day would come…

  I looked down at the home wrecker once again, not angry. Just exhausted.

  “Oh well, I said with a shrug to the guy. I got my answer, I guess I've to kill you.

  He started Begging, crying and saying that he has a family.

  I apologize to him too, for torturing the truth out of him and also his family lost.

  As I saw him plead during his final moments of his life.

  I…shot him in the chest

  Twice, just to be safe.

  After while

  I left the apartment,

  Feeling kinda bad for killing that poor home wrecker

  Kinda…

  I never wanted to kill him, but that's the thing about being a hitman.

  You either kill them now or they kill you later.

  And I refuse to die just yet.

  No…not until I see my little sister get the life that she deserves

  God if I can't get peace in this world for what I've done, at least let Jasmine do

  And as for Eddie…

  He already knew who I was.

  And worse—

  He thought I was predictable.

  Light chuckle we'll see about that…

  But now that he knows my true identity, he would've tipped off the Feds by now and yet I don't hear any sirens or seen anything on the news.

  So…

  Ed The Dead…

  What are you really up to?