A Dedicated Undertaking.

“I would think twice before jumping off of here, Laddie. You’ll no doubt hit the ground and smash a few limbs, but may not kill yourself. Try the cliff over there, you’ll be guaranteed to do the job. What’s gone wrong, anyway?”

I wasn’t immediately prepared to answer him, I wanted to get it over, but his words had a salutary upon me. Months, maybe years in hospital didn’t appeal to me one bit.

“My life is over,” I replied. I didn’t want to be uncivil towards him, so I added that I had lost my wife and three children to a drunk driver.

“I always say, Laddie, get even. Are you going to let him walk around with the distinct possibility that he’ll one day be back on the road pissed out of his brain again?”

And with that, I had found a way to help many people, I became a serial killer! 

It was like a shroud of misery lifted off of me and I had a ‘Road to Damascus’ conversion. Resolution surged through me, I would rid this world of those choosing the possibility to kill and succeeding.

Never in my life had such purpose consumed me with intention. I had an expertise in the I.T. industry, but I had not pursued it vigorously to make a fortune with it and this I had thought would be needed to achieve my goal to its full realisation. I had toyed with various applications and a game’s program which I developed and sold.

It took me over a year to make myself affluent enough for my purposes. I knew I needed to wall myself off at times from official scrutiny with illegal passports and other methods of concealment if I were to travel. I also brought myself to a level of fitness that would enable me to cope with even very belligerent targets if I couldn’t subdue them in a surprise move. I was ready to begin.

I decided upon a relatively easy target for my first victim, a drunk who appeared to stay in this condition on a semi-permanent basis. He had killed a cyclist by running him over on a footpath whilst extremely drunk. He got just one year in jail for this act.

I observed his movements over a few days as he made his way home from the pub each night. The streets were deserted as I silently came up behind him and plunged the poisonous hypodermic in his neck. I left him sprawled on the pavement. I felt no remorse, only elation. I went to my home feeling like an avenging angel.

I had compiled a list of drunken killers which I deemed insufficiently punished for their deeds and were roaming freely throughout the country.

I decided to approach my task gradually, taking what I considered to be the easiest targets first before tackling the more affluent that were surrounded by more safeguards. But I was looking forward to bypassing their often protection and penetrating their inner sanctums.

Because I tended to stick to this easy method of terminating a life, after I had killed over thirty people, the police started to label me as the ‘Needle Killer’ and I didn’t mind this label at all. In my experience, drunks didn’t often reform and with alcohol in them, disregarded any threats as unimportant that they might take to heart when sober.

After I had travelled throughout the country with my activities, to be on the safe side. I chose to suspend my activities locally for a little while by helping other countries get rid of their likeminded drunks of similar stature. I equipped myself with passports of a sufficient quality I thought would escape detection, and so it proved.

I decided to change my modus operandi and took note of a Mexican device that was both diabolical and very effective. On the ‘Dark Web’ I obtained a good supply of these motorised strangling loops that once switched on and placed over the head of a person, would tighten until it would stop all breathing. ‘Not humane, but the recipient of this method of meeting his or her maker, justified.’ I was skilled enough with computers that I was able to form a protective screen to shield me from discovery for my purchase, as I no doubt would have had the local constabulary on the lookout for me, Dark Web or not.

As it turned out, I nearly fell at the first overseas fence. I suppose I was feeling a bit brash and over-confident with my past successes that I decided to bring retribution to a man that lived in a high-rise apartment. 

I arrived undetected at his floor by way of a service elevator. I had listened at his apartment door with an electronic stethoscope and not hearing a sound, assumed he would be asleep. I easily opened his door and as I entered something crashed against my shoulder. It nearly took me to the ground, but fortunately, I was able to lash out with my foot and he fell to the ground with a dislocated knee. I was in pain, but muffled his screams and slipped the motorised ‘necklace’ over his head. Once I knew he couldn’t take it off, I left his room and without being seen, vacated the hotel.

As this man was a prominent businessman and known to have connections to the ‘underworld,’ the speculation was that it must have been some sort of payback by his fellow criminals.

I lingered on the Continent for over a year making a name for myself as, naturally, ‘The Strangler.’ Rewards of considerable amounts were posted for my apprehension as I eliminated the more ‘Cream’ of society. Of course, it had become obvious that I was targeting drunken miscreants that had somehow evaded getting their ‘just desserts,’ but it didn’t seem to slow the continual slaughter of innocents by these drunken criminals.

Feeling rather pleased with myself, I decided to return to my own country and my own undoing. Thinking I could handle just about any situation, I went after a ‘big-wig.’ He was a judge who escaped any judicial punishment by virtue of friends in high places. I was keen to rectify this.

It was easy to gain entrance to his residence, and reverting to my hypodermic method of dispatch, quickly killed him. Resting on my laurels, I espied a fine bottle of scotch of a most famous name. The judge had lived alone and I felt no need to hurry. I poured myself, not one, but three glasses of this fine liquid while resting in an easy armchair. I was definitely unsteady on my feet when I stood up and exited the judge’s home. I was staggering a little when I over-balanced and fell into a young girl cycling past and knocked her in the way of a passing car, killing her.

Being true to my own principles, I deem it proper that I suffer the same fate as those that I have dispatched. I think it appropriate that I choose the same location that I was formerly intending to take my own life; but of course, from the higher cliff.