Black Equation - The Deceived Ones

Number Zero

"The value of a man's death is weighted on the value of his life.
Since your life has no meaning, neither does your death."

Number Zero

"Did Creed send you?"

The man trembled as he backed away from the intruder. He glanced at the locked door and the barred windows, his muscles tensed with anger and fear and something more. Blood was running down his temples, staining his once immaculate white suit. Truth be told, he knew he deserved this. He had stepped on a lot of people to get to where he was now. He had committed crimes more than he could count. He knew that someday he would be punished. Only that he didn't know it would come this soon. He wanted to live. He had still so much he wanted to do. If he had to get down on his knees and beg, he would. But there was no mercy for him. The world was never a gentle place.

"W-What do you want? Money? You can take all my money! How about status? You can live without worries for the rest of your life. I can give you anything, just leave me alone!"

The electricity was cut off. The entire mansion was dark – the generators and back-up supplies were all tampered with. He knew that very moment that someone was out there to get him. In haste, he had ordered most of his men to go outside and deal with the situation. He left only a handful for himself, complacent that nobody could get past the first circle of defense. However, they didn't even last five minutes against the intruder. Even the best of his men were taken out in a blink of an eye.

He held desperately onto his gun even if its cartridge was already empty. It was his only protection. Maybe if he got close enough, he could hit the intruder in the head or in the place where the sun doesn't shine. Maybe he could use that chance to escape. Maybe this man was working alone. Maybe he could make it out alive.

"Tell me how much he's paying you!" he shouted. "I'll double it. No, triple it! Just spare my life!"

The intruder just stared at him impassively. It was a young man who looked like he couldn't be out of college yet. In his casual gray clothes, he looked like he could be simply out buying groceries or hanging out with friends. The man just couldn't believe that this boy had managed to singlehandedly take out fifty odd men. There wasn't even a drop of blood on him. It was ridiculous.

Proof that this boy was a professional killer. Who else but Creed could unleash such a devil?

The boy glanced at the clock on the wall, his face thoughtful. "Very well," he said after a while. "Let's make a deal."

"A deal?" The man laughed nervously, wiping the tears of relief from his face. "Yes, yes! A deal! You are a smart boy! What do you want?"

"Your life."

His heart seemed to have stop. "B-But, I thought –"

"I'm going to burn down this mansion." The boy ran his hand through his blond hair. "If you can leave, you're free."

Then, without another word, the boy held out his gloved hand and dropped a lighter on the plush carpet. With all the papers and books inside the room, everything easily caught fire, and soon the whole place became a living inferno.

"No! Help! Don't leave me here!" the man coughed as he tried his best to avoid the yellow-orange flames. He was trapped. There was no way to run. "Help me! Don't kill me! Please!"

"No one is supposed to know you're murdered," the boy replied in a dispassionate tone as he leaned on the wall just beyond the open door. "An accident will take care of the job. I still have to get rid of the bodies of your men. Sorry, I can't stay. In a few minutes, cops will arrive."

"I beg you! Save me! I have a family! Think of my daughter when she realizes her daddy is dead. Think of all the – "

"People die all the time." The boy's pale blue eyes sent a cold chill down his being. There was sadness in his eyes, as if he pitied his prey even for a moment. It was gone before he could blink. Maybe it was a hopeless delusion. "I'm simply getting rid of you first. This world is better off without filth."

"You have no conscience!" the man snarled with all the rage in his system. In exchange for his soul, he would curse this bastard to the depths of hell. "You say that you're killing me because of my crimes? You're nothing but a criminal too! Damn you! You sick--"

"Very unoriginal." The boy gave him a dismissive wave. "You're not the first to tell me that."

The boy walked away without looking back. He skirted past the unconscious bodies on the floor and reached outside just as he heard the sirens coming. Six minutes tops. That was plenty of time for him.

He gave a signal to the two trainees waiting for him. They were under his program, although both of them were older than him. Funny world. The Bases looked inquiringly at each other, hesitant to do what they were just ordered to do.

The oldest one spoke up timidly. "You killed the target already. Isn't this where we run and take cover?"

"We leave no evidence."

"But isn't there a young girl in the fourth floor? She has nothing --"

"I judge as I've been trained. I think as I've been ordered. How dare you question me, your direct superior?"

Their faces paled considerably. Both of them couldn't believe that someone could be so inhuman.

The two saluted and went to their planned positions, eager to leave the presence of their heartless team leader. For a while, he watched the whole place be engulfed in flames. The sirens were nearer now. He guessed there was a firetruck or two on the way too.

Of course, the girl had nothing to do with this. The fire wasn't spreading rapidly given the wind, and she was a couple of floors away from the ground floor. Judging the speed of the approaching enforcers, she would be saved. He made sure that wouldn't be the case for her father though. Scum like him didn't deserve to exist.

You have no conscience...

Right. He didn't have one. In fact, he had nothing as a person. Not a name or identity. He was nothing but a killing machine. His purpose defined his existence.

"Orders and missions, as long as I carry them out, nothing else matters."

**

Unedited.