7. Past Lives

...Hunter POV...

I was growing agitated. I didn't want to be here in the first place, but once I was informed that someone was stealing from me, I decided to deal with the issue personally. No one steals from the Reaper and gets away with it. 

I am one of the most feared men in the world. I was abandoned as a baby and was forced to fend for myself at an early age. I grew up in Soacha, Colombia. One of the most dangerous cities in the world. I came from nothing, and nothing was ever given to me. I always had to fight for what I wanted. I became ruthless as my compassion for others died out. My desire for power is what drove me to where I am today. I was a kid when I started working as a drug mule for the capo of Los Calaveras; also known as the Skulls. We were the most feared and ruthless mafia's in the world. As I grew up, I worked my way higher into Los Calaveras, until I managed to rule it all. I killed the previous leader, taking the spot for myself. 

In my reign, I have single-handedly increased our reach. Before, Los Calaveras solely operated in Colombia. Ever since I have been Capo, I have been increasing our reach to include most of South America and expanding into North America. Which is why I'm here. A few of the businesses I've recently acquired here have taken it upon themselves to skim from me. They seemed to be under the impression that because I'm based out of Colombia, I wouldn't notice. How unlucky for them. 

"SIR! I promise! I'm innocent!" The man tied in the chair before me screams out, begging for his life, however, I pay him no notice. Instead, I turn around to examine the table of tools displayed before me.

"Sir! Please! I have a wife and child at home! Please don't do this!" The man shouts, trying to get me to free him. How little does he realize his words mean nothing to me. I was abandoned as a child. I never had the love from either of my parents nor did I experience what a normal childhood would've been like.

"Please! Sir! You have to believe me!" He shouts, irritating me. 

"On the contrary. I don't have to believe anything." I state as my fingers caress the weapons on the table. I pick up the saw blade and test its sharpness. Dull. Hmm. Just perfect. Sharp blades provide instant precision. I don't want that. The messier the better. I want the person to regret ever trying to cross me. Cutting off a finger instantly doesn't teach them anything. But sawing off a finger, prolonging the agony sends a message. The message being, don't mess with me. A message which I will need to reinforce here in the states. It seems that the mafias here are too lenient. But that all changes today. Either people are with me, or they're against me. And if they're against me, then they have signed their fate. I don't tolerate traitors. Nor do I tolerate lies. Is this man innocent? Who knows. Do I care? Not in the slightest, as my message will be spread regardless of his involvement. People will understand that they can't cross me. Crossing me will only lead to their deaths, and I vow to never make it an easy death.

I may sound like a sick and twisted b*stard, but I enjoy this part of my work. Everyone back home respects me too much to ever cross me. So I never really get a chance to have fun. Today, however, I plan on having a lot of fun. 

Several hours later, the man before me is unrecognizable. Blood is splattered everywhere, including all over my suit. Great, I'll have to find some clothes to change into. It's not as though I can just parade around covered in blood. Before I leave, I grab my last instrument. I pick up a branding iron in the shape of a scythe. The branding iron has become my signature. Before I dispose of the body, I brand them so that way everyone understands not to mess with me. I have the same design tattooed on my left forearm. An image of a scythe as it stabs into flames. The flames flow around my arm. 

"Patrón?" I hear one of my men call out. I turn to look at my assistant Javier Gonzalez. His head is bowed down before me, not wanting to look me in the eyes.

"What is it, Javier?" I ask.

"Patrón, I found some clothes for you." He remarks. It seems as though my men know me better than I'd realized. I look over to see a simple pair of black joggers and an all-black sweater. I wasn't thrilled, but they would do. I took them from Javier and he immediately turned around while I changed. 

"I put some shoes to the side as well." He comments, before leaving the room.

I put the shoes on, tired from my earlier performance. The man had put up a much larger fight than I had anticipated. It turns out he might've been innocent after all. But I don't care. I want my message to be heard. I want the traitors to know that I'm coming for them. I want them to be afraid. To constantly look over their shoulder in anticipation. I want them to have to sleep with one eye open, knowing I'm coming for them. It's only a matter of when.

As I leave the room, two of my men enter the room I just left. They know what to expect to find, and they also know what to do next. They're to dispose of the body, but to never hide it. How can I send a message if it's hidden? Rather, I intend for people to find it. So my men will place the body in front of his wife's house, easy to find. A bit too much? Perhaps. But I don't care. I need those around me to understand I'm not to be messed with. 

After the events from earlier, I really want to lay off some steam. I had finished my business here and wanted to get back home. 

"Gonzalez." I call out. Javier is by my side in a few seconds.

"Si, Patrón?" He questions.

"I want to let off some steam. Find me something." I state.

"Si, Patrón.Hay un club de lucha no muy lejos de aquí. Es uno de sus negocios, pero no lo agregué a su itinerario, ya que todo se verifica." Yes, boss. There is a fight club not too far from here. It's one of your businesses, but I didn't add it to your itinerary, as everything checks out. Javier comments.

"Prepáralo." Get it ready. I state, desperately needing a drink. Javier nods his head before bowing out. It's times like this that I miss my best friend. Matías and I had been friends since we were kids. We grew up together on the streets. He was my only friend. We did everything together and always looked out for one another. However, he was murdered three years ago. Marcos Salvador, my predecessor, set Matías up. Marcos saw my potential and wanted to knock me down a peg, so he put a hit out for Matías. I was away on a mission at the time, only to come back to find out that Matías had been slaughtered. I went absolutely rabid after that. Marcos had assumed that I would back off, little did he realize the gravity of his mistake. With Matías gone, there was no one to calm me down and keep my monster at bay. With my humanity gone, I went on a giant-killing spree, killing all those that were involved and looked up to Marcos. I saved Marcos for last, so he would know I was coming after him. I wanted him to realize his mistake. 

He begged for his life and the lives of his family. However, I've never been one to show mercy, rather the opposite. I killed his family in front of him, before killing him. I wanted him to die knowing he was the reason for his family's demise. Ever since that day, none of my men ever took even a fraction of a step out of line. They were all willing soldiers. Those that weren't were killed.

It had been years since Matías had been killed, but I still hadn't gotten over it yet.