Audio Log---Initializing
I remember...a lot actually...when my whole family died...everyone I knew...carried off into an abyss known as death. There wasn’t much…There wasn’t…how do I put this…Life was gone. I remember my mother teaching the Shinto ways of summoning fox spirits to aid our training. I remember my father encouraging me to be more like my brother and to learn the ways of the sword. I remember Uncle Taka would give me pieces of paper and we would do origami with them. I remember my brother showing me what It meant to be Kageyama, a…demon of shadows. I remember the sudden crash of glass that came from the roof; the sounds of gun fire; the screams of my clan from pain and agony; the movements my father made as he slashed enemy after enemy with a steak knife he was using to chop onions with; the creatures my mother summoned as they ripped throat by throat, as the blood simply dripped…like a waterfall in spring. I remember the chaos, the conflict, the blood, the clanging of blades, and mostly the smell of death. I remember being grabbed by a black hooded figure, a hand unknown to me, hostile, then my uncle, diving towards me, his hand on fire, seemingly not burning; thrusting his hand towards the hand that grabbed me, burning and drilling through bone and cartilage like a hot knife or a welding torch. I remember a man walking through the front door holding two of my clans, my family members, by the throat as they dangled lifelessly. His suit was silver, his facial features seemed generic and constantly moving like some kind of disguise spell. His power and speed were overwhelming. He grabbed my father by the shoulder, and all I could hear were the sounds of crackling bone and screams of anguish. I’ve become all to familiar with this sound now. I remember this man thrusting his hands into my father’s stomach and pulling his intestines out with ease. My poor mother, stunned, shaken, distraught, confused, no thoughts to comfort her, nor bring her to reason. She stood up faced me and my brother, and told us to run. Her body glowed with a yellowish orange aura, she held her hand out, and suddenly me and my brother were on the streets. Our temple in distant view, in that mountain, at least for a second. Fire, explosions, rain of embers, all could be seen on this dark wet street. Our home was obliterated, destroyed, all that remained were screams, and charred remains. I was only 5 then, my brother was 10. We ran, followed protocol, I was to young to know protocol, but my brother knew it. He used our fathers contacts to get places, and eventually get to another branch of our clan. It was there I stayed for 12 years, learning our clan’s ways, and attempting to learn about what happened to our home. I had learned during that time, that I was part of a lineage of assassins and that our home was destroyed by another clan. I didn’t really care once I learned, nothing changed for me as it was. It didn’t matter until I was old enough to assist my brother with “missions.” I was excited that day, it was the first time I got to hunt with my brother, help him. He took on a father role for me since that day. He taught me all there is to know, all there was to know and how to do it. My brother built a reputation to his killing name, they called him “Wisp” as whenever he needed to kill someone, there was never any blood or trace of a death; it was as if the person just went to sleep. People quickly starting realizing with the small blade wounds, cut perfectly to the point that blood would not leak that it was an assassins doing, and the wisp works as a guide in folktales. My brother was the guide to the afterlife, the wisp. A cool name, I thought when I was younger, but its names like that, that don’t instill fear, dread, or nervousness. I learned this when my brother failed his mission due to no one knowing how frightening he could be. We both went in, I took care of the smaller guards, he almost surgically killed the tougher opponents. But the target was waiting, we were revealed through one of our own clan for a profit. My brother drew his weapon, bullets began to shatter, and he looked like a professional. A security guard came up to the room, at the sound of the bullets, he saw my brother attacking people, slitting throats and arteries. I didn’t see him, he was in my blind spot, I was busy covering my brothers back, shooting the other guys that were out of my brothers immediate reach. The security guard fired his gun, 9 times in my back but I didn’t feel a single a bullet. This security guard didn’t know who I was, or who my brother was, or any man here, he just shot at whatever seemed most threatening. If he knew my brother was an assassin he probably would have froze up, left the room and called for backup. But instead he shot because he did not know who we were. To this day I don’t have a single bullet wound on my back, because you see…I took none of those 9 bullets, no instead my brother moved as fast as he could to save me. He took 1 of those bullets right to the heart, and demolished the other 8. He wasn’t fast enough to stop the first bullet, so he took the shot, jumped right in the way, he didn’t even know he was shot. He turned and faced me, every enemy in that room fell down at the same time, dead, cold. His face looked just like theirs, flushed, pale, panicked. He asked me what was wrong, and I guess the pain in his chest began to throb, because he looked down towards his shirt. That hole was there, blood slowly starting the escape. I can still see his bewildered face as he fell towards the ground…dying. He gave me his sword, his only real possession, and told me to get revenge for our family. “Make the family proud, and take care of my body, no trace, remember?” yeah, that’s what he said. I remember leaving, quickly, eyes blurry, from the wind and tears, as I ran down the side of the building with his body in my arms. I lost the ability to trust my clan since the betrayal, I still work with them, one of them gives me missions and I go do them, in return I get paid, information and money. In fact he is the one who paid me to come kill you. I don’t normally speak to my targets, don’t normally talk about myself either, sorry about that its just, it’s the anniversary of my brothers death. Its been 4 years to the day. Understand, that unlike my brother I will not be quick in your death. You are a therapist, and you know peoples secrets, well one of those people has paid my contact, to pay me, to kill you. Unlike my brother, The Wisp, I am not here to guide you to a peaceful death. I am the man who will watch you bleed out in agony, there is no salvation, only your death.
Other man’s voice, breathing quickly, raspy, almost as if in subtle pain from a lower abdomen wound, “please ill do…ill do anything! just let me go, I wont say a word, ill start a new life! Be like your brother, the Wisp, remember!”
“sorry, nothing personal, just business, and business is booming…”*sudden slashing sounds can be heard along with the sound of screaming and heavy panting*
Well now that your bleeding out, ill tell you my name, not my real name of course, but the kind of name my brother had. He was the wisp, but I haunt my enemies till they die, they are aware of my presence, they know to fear me when I arrive, they know who is coming for them. The creature that feast on your dreams, that’s impossible to kill, that’s born out of intense desire of revenge, they call me… The Wight.
Audio Log----End
