DATE:17th of March, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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Dear Journal,
It was a very tired morning, the desert air annoyed me greatly. I was strolling through the new part of the city. Concord is an old metropolis, the ancient residency of a now conquered principality. I really hate this wind, it burns my nostrils. I say desert air, but this is because the great southern current carries dust and sand from the dunes a thousand miles from here. The downside of a port city I suppose...
....
No, dear doesn't really fit, does it... This is a work meant for after I am imprisoned, on the off chance the plan fails. Never hurts to earn an extra buck, doesn't it? I hear that auto-biographies of killers are all the trend these days.
In any case, that was a tangent. As I was Saying, that morning I was treading through the busy modern streets of the newer parts of the metropolis. I like taking walks, it really calms me down when I am stressed. And how couldn't I be? Today is the big day, or the D-Day, as my boss says. I fought so hard, for so much time, and if this single day works well I will be set for life!
I am... now that I think about it, it doesn't really matter. It could be anyone in my shoes, prepared to take this final step. "We" could be anywhere. I suppose pondering over it doesn't really change anything. I am an assassin. Not a top of the line assassin, but one regardless. It wasn't my choice to go down this path, but then again, no one really cares about that.
UltraMan arrests men like me on the daily. So then why was "I" specifically chosen for this job? I am not completely sure, but I do have an idea. I am reliable. We will see if that is enough to carry me through.
As I was writing these words, I come about a giant poster at a major junction. It wasn't leased for a new product like a cutting edge smartphone, but to display a figure. On the poster was the face of a man, but not UltraMan. This man had a red and yellow costume that left his red curly hair exposed, almost falling out of the advertisement. The suit's mask also let his mouth and nose to be seen. His eyes were covered by some white opaque... glasses? vizor? I never really understood what they were. He had an eerie smile, a wide grin to be precise. It appeared like his mouth stretched from one side to the other of the billboard, center stage. On the poster wrote the famous catchphrase: "Be there in a Blaze!". I remember him. This man is called Blazer, one of the heroes under UltraMan's League. I am not sure what people see in him. He looks awfully creepy, though I am unsure if this was the intended effect. Blazer is also a scum of a superhero if you ask me. Advertising a service where he comes to you anytime you click his in app call, who is he, private security?
A hero with a subscription plan? multi-tiered? His insolence made my blood boil.
UltraMan never asked for payment from what I know, though it is a mystery if he received any donations. Such information is out of my reach.
The red, flickering lights at the junction meant I have to step back, and sure enough, A red burst passed me, taking the center of the road with pride. It was Blazer.
To be honest I have no idea why he would even form this league, he is more than strong enough to deal with all threats. Being invincible makes you limitless right? Was it to have a normal like in-between his "work"? Was it to keep an eye on these egomaniacal forces? that seemed closer to the truth, at least to me.
In any case, none of this concerns my position. I too have a job. I should buy some tea on my way there...
Looking at the time, I was already late. I suppose this means no fresh tea for me.
My destination was an odd building. It was much older than the surrounding ones, although still in good shape, fully owned by a landlord that didn't want to get with the times. these days i hear that he wants to make it a monument. It certainly could become one. Its owner is around 90 years old as far as I know, and he built it himself.
I took the stairs to the third floor where we had a room rented for several months. Inside was my partner, or better said spotter, a rough guy with a name similar to Mike. I always forget it. His face is forgettable too. Was this some kind of special ability?
"Hello Mike!"
"I told you my name is Connor you bastard. Do I need to spell it out?!"
Mike wasn't that nice of a guy. I always say that if trauma is concerned he had probably been dropped as a baby. Although this is mostly my theory, I came up with it upon seeing the strange indentation in his jaw. I think he called it jutting?
Anyway, he is very grumpy.
Mike is always annoyed at my Leisurious strolls, saying that "we need to keep watch" or whatever. Personally I believe he is just jealous. He was picked for his large attention span, so it isn't really my fault if his "on watch" shifts are way longer. After all, every man has his strong suits.
By keeping watch I mean the window. We are stationed in this inconspicuous building because UltraMan will be attending the reopening of a giant kindergarten that was destroyed in the last disaster. I am not sure how my boss knows of this in advance. Did he kidnap his secretary or something? does UltraMan even have one? Now that i think about it, I never talked about my boss. technically, I am not allowed to, but truth be told I do not really know who he is. Probably one of the old Feudal Elite Our Hero has screwed over. Not really any of my business to be honest.
If I am successful, I have been promised 10 milion Zols. I am not very familiar with the local currency, but from what I understood it is quite a lot. A tea from a good place was about 10 Zols. More than enough for the rest of my life. I am not sure how much Mike is getting, he didn't want to tell.
In any case, the reason I don't care about my partner's concern is that we already know when the hero will come. What is the point of paying attention beforehand. "One needs to know when to conserve One's strength". This is a phrase i used to tell him in the old alphabet( Oportet scire quando conservare vires). He glances at me with disgust and sighs. Such an attitude!
Around 13:30
As I was resting in bed, three or so hours after I returned and way before the time I was supposed to take action, Mike comes to me, shivering, and pleads to quicken my pace to the window. There, through it I see in the distance none other than UltraMan, dressed in his iconic "Silver Age" suit, preparing to take a speech. What was this? 'What about our schedule??'- I ask Mike, now also having become a sludge of nerves.
He didn't know what to say, but hastely pulled a briefcase from under a wardrobe in the room. THE weapon.
Ah, I suppose I never explained how we were going to even complete such a seemingly impossible task. UltraMan's skin is impervious to any means on earth. At least that is what was first thought.
Only one element discovered by humanity is able to hurt him. Astatine. It is an extremely rare, extremely unstable element sometimes found in the earth's crust. Up until now, it was something impossible to even associate as a weakness for the creature that is UltraMan. It is so unstable, it disintegrates after only 8 hours from harvest, and only about 28g exist in the whole earth's crust at once. It is also very, very, very radioactive.
I do not understand how such an element was brought before me, in the form of the tip of a special bullet. No technology I am aware of could do this. I suppose this is what connections bring you. THE magnate of the old order may not be the only one who wants the hero dead.
Even in the form of the bullet, Astatine is profoundly dangerous. It is currently sealed in a special chamber. Once I open it, i have five minutes to fire it, before the casing disintegrates and I die of radiation poisoning. No pressure! None at all...
Glancing at Mike while I was preparing the rifle, he was observing the hero's speech through binoculars. We were too far from it to hear anything, even with the boom boxes making his voice sound tenfold stronger. he gestured there was still time. That is good.
This choice of location was obvious. If we were any closer, UltraMan would have seen us. Or perhaps heard us. i was at about 2 kilometers. To compensate, I received the largest rifle I have ever seen, capable of firing 70mm rounds with a quick reload. Not much use as i only had one shot to succeed. Even if I reloaded the rifle, the small trail of dust from the bullet would have lead the hero straight to us. I am not even confident in reloading before he runs these two kilometers of distance between us. No pressure!
I struggled to smack the heavy projectile inside the rifle, then took stance while Mike was adjusting my bipod. It was hard to carry the rifle even with it. I was sure to wear gloves in case i had to leave it behind( it was never in the plan to take it with me, but the boss doesn't need to know that). This humongous machinery could be sold for a million Zols on the black market, that much I know.
But even with this scheme, there was no guarantee to hit UltraMan. 2 kilometers on such a target, adjusting for the great southern current is not something anyone can do. In fact its pretty much impossible. but here comes my trick, or you could say superpower. i believe this is the reason a B tier assassin like me even was picked. After ingesting exuberant amounts of cocaine, for a short period time slows for my perception. It is purely on a perception level. i was told it was no superpower. But not every drug junkie has this, right? I call it bullet time.
Personally I am not an addict. I rarely used this as it gives me great headaches afterwards, but special occasions require special efforts.
Taking aim, I prepared my dose with the left hand. I snored about 2 grams? I am not sure. What is clear is that I couldn't hear anything. It was working.
Adjusting my aim, i was told to aim at his heart. It was calculated that this exact distance, altitude, with this exact weapon and bullet, the Astatine tip would pierce UltraMan's heart and get stuck inside. And with the rest of his skin impervious, there was no way to remove it. Even his heart, exposed to the radiation, would give up. Putting it like this, it sounded so simple. Could I really kill a god with what was basically dust?
There was only one way to find out.
I prepared to pull the trigger.
I visualized it.
I really focused.
Then I pulled the trigger.
The Man of Tomorrow was...
He was...
?
?
Pierced? Really? I didn't expect it. Even now i am surprised. Holding my breath, the trajectory was perfect. It landed in the middle of his heart, seemingly piercing his suit and skin. Skin that released blue blood? No wonder he wasn't like us, He wasn't human.
I am writing this in hindsight, with pride, but I did not expect it to work. How could I have. Me?
UltraMan didn't collapse even after being pierced with possibly his only weakness. he clenched his chest, let out a pained hush and then jumped in the air, propulsing himself out of my vizor's sight. I wasn't anxious though. There was no way he would come after me in this state. Someone like him who probably never even had his skin cut would never have known the fear of death. It was unavoidable though. Even if he went to a hospital, how would they ever operate on him in time? Much less his resistance, safely opening a heart is impossible. He was done for. A dead man walking. And I didn't feel much. I killed a god and i felt nothing. He wasn't the first person I offed, but I didn't think I would be so detached...
I wanted to get the tea I missed up on...
Was I wrong for that?
Mike erupted in an unfamiliar outburst of joy upon seeing the injured creature. Hitting his fists on the walls, he was the happiest i have ever seen him. Was this something personal to him? Having heard "thank you" from such a man seemingly confirmed it. The only way he would ever address such a phrase to me was if I saved him from hell. Why was he so happy? Wasn't UltraMan one of the good guys?
I felt touched by his compassion, and I almost wanted to care, but I just couldn't. I'm afraid his story matters little to my situation.
Taking this contract was a simple bounty for me, no matter of Mike's History. I have become quite arrogant, didn't I? A lowly human talking like this about the death of a demi-god...
In any case,
I killed the guy....
I really did...
I actually did it...
Except, it didn't end yet. Now we enter the second phase of the plan. For all the praising I did, UltraMan had died two times already, both in duels with his greatest enemies. The problem that enters the picture now is making sure he is dead, and even more than that, guaranteeing he will not come back again.
And that, sadly, is still my job. Lucky me....
I said my good-byes and left Mike alone to decide if he wants the cumbersome rifle or not and left for another safe house, this time a three star hotel about ten metro stations from the shooting. I only had the bare necessities, as I had to appear humble for the next part of the plan.
And the plan? Of course, it is to attend UltraMan's funeral, what else.