[Date]

GUN POWDER
Click.
Click.
Bang!

The silver tip of the gun glistened beneath the moonlight, smoke curling
after the bang. In a narrow alley, a young man in overalls stood over the
body as blood oozed over the tared ground. He frowned as he looked at
the body before him—a male, his age.

"You could've prevented all this if you listened to me Damian."

The air felt stuffy. The lights illuminated the cityscape as vehicles zoomed
back and forth, pedestrians walking to and fro. Those who were partying
did such, those who were asleep were, and those who were fighting
'demons' were.

Xavier woke up from bed, draped in sweat. His chest rising and falling in
rapid succession with a shaky breath. He wiped the sweat off his face with
the white sheets then sat up, trying to study his breath. He’d usually wake
up this way ever since it happened.
He exhaled then wore his shorts and made his way to the kitchen. Where
he was currently staying was a rented apartment. One that for some reason
he chose not to leave yet. In the kitchen he prepared a cup of coffee, after
which he made his way to the couch which wasn’t far away. He switched
on the TV and the headline he saw was: DAMIAN CROWAGER’S
KILLER FOUND.
He smirked as je shook his head. Sipped a bit of coffee then changed the
station. His phone rang. He turned his head leftward as he muttered “Who
could it be now? Tch.” The name which appeared was: Yosef Ifazi.
His brows furrowed, I don’t even know who this is. He answered. A voice came
through, deep and heavy. “Xavier Hanswell… I found you at last.”
Xavier’s left brow twisted as he asked, “What business could you possibly
have with me?”
“Oh, come on… no formalities? Just straight to the point like that… such
a boring man you are. Anyway, I have a job for you Xavier—the black
flame.”
That name… “Where do we meet?”
“Ah I see… so that name really does make things easy. Southpark, 9pm.”
Xavier ended the call, “Noted,” then continued with what he was watching.
Before his phone screen went off, it displayed the time: 10:37am. As he
remained in his apartment for the time being, the sunlight drifted over the
town, Nelhazia. Southpark lay a mile away from where his apartment
was—Redline.
Hours later, Xavier dressed up and walked out his door. Sat in his car, a
black Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham, then zoomed off toward the meeting
point. His car gleamed beneath the moonlight as he drove. His ‘associate’
Yosef, sat on a bench, in brown attire, with a lit cigar in between his
fingers. Before long, Xavier arrived. He parked his car then walked up to
Yosef.
“Hey~” Yosef hummed, standing to shake Xavier’s hand. “Thanks for
coming.”
“Yeah, yeah. Make this quick.” He sat.
The wind wooshed passed them, carrying the smoke from the cigar with it.
“Don’t know if you saw the news but… we took care of your ‘pressing
issue’ No need for thanks. Since we’ll be working together. Right?” He
exhaled more smoke.
Xavier shook his head then tilted, “Is that supposed to be a threat?”
“Woah, woah.” Yosef lifted his hands in mock surrender. “But given your
level or aptitude for this game… it only begs the question… Did you
fumble? Or you just wanted to get caught? The latter seems most plausible.
‘I mean… for a while now he’s been acting a little off’ that’s what our
broker said though.”
Xavier furrowed his brows then shot up from his seat. “Is this why you
brought me here? For a bloody interview?”
There was a hum of silence. Then a reply. “Calm down, ay. I’m sorry~”
Xavier chuckled, sat down, then his bulged veins slowly relaxed. Yosef
knocked his cigar on the side of the bench. Ash fell as he spoke “So the
thing is… we want you to take care of someone on the east side.”
Xavier started to object but Yosef cut him off.
“Hold on. Before you reply… we know you are retired. This’ll be the ‘last
time’ we’ll be contacting you. A favor for old times’ sake…?”
 “Last time?” Xavier asked, turning to Yosef who nodded in affirmation.
“Alright.”
Yosef smirked as he squashed the cigar beneath his feet. “We’ll mail you
the details.”

With that, the meeting ended, and both returned to their havens.

Xavier lay on his bed, his face shifting in distress. Beneath was a tucked
nightmare. He saw Damian holding a sickle chasing after him through a
meadow, then a barn yard then through the woods. Then everything went
dark, but light soon returned, and Xavier was shackled to the ground. The
exact alley he killed Damian.
Damian bent over and started carving the names of all those Xavier had
killed. Blood dripped as he yelled in pain.
“Don’t worry… It’s all good XAVIER. RIGHT?” Damian snarled. “YOU
USED TO say that a lot before KILLING THEM OFF. How does it
feel…? Good right?”
Damian lifted the sickle then brought it down, aiming for his head but… it
all disappeared. Xavier woke up with his hand tightly holding his chest.
His eyes laid wide as sweat dripped off his face and body with his effort to
try and slow his breath. He stood up and peaked through the curtain, it was
morning.
The sun splashed over him as he walked toward his mailbox. He picked
out a brown envelope and went back inside. He unsealed it and spread the
papers across his bed. The image of the target stood out. A man with dark
hair, freckles on his cheeks, a narrow nose and brown eyes. He looked like
he was in his mid-forties. The location wasn’t close at all. So, Xavier
prepared the essentials he’d need and placed all in a bag. He tucked his
pistol beside him—under his coat, wore his gloves and walked out.
As he descended, a thought crept in, Now I’m regretting my choices. He took
one last look at his apartment before closing the car boot.
The Cadillac hummed as he shut the door. It gleamed beneath the sunlight
as he sped off the asphalt with a 90s track playing loud.
THE BLACK FLAME’S LAST MISSION.