The untitled Short Story
Written By: Adri Adityo Wisnu
It had been a cliché. A lone wolf set out in the name of vengeance, fighting evil that corrupts the city’s circularly system. Budi Prakoso dug his claws deep into Jakarta’s jurisdiction system; nobody could put him into justice. He has money, power, everything. He lifts a finger, and there goes the chance to get a guilty verdict on him. For years I put my trust in the hands of the authorities, and for the exact years Budi Prakoso gets away with that ugly smug on his face. Their bullshit won’t convince me this time around. This time, I’ll make it right. Killing Prakoso won’t bring my parents back, but killing him and destroy everything he owns; that is my salvation. I got a couple of underground contacts, they taught me things. They taught me how to shoot a gun and how to survive. I spent fortunes on guns, smuggled out of somewhere on Asia. A dual berretta should be enough to make a scene down at the don’s mansion.
The time has finally come. It was raining hard; the water dropped harshly hitting my skin as if it was needle. It hurts a bit. The sounds of growling thunder and blowing wind conceal my movement as I entered the unguarded front gate, moving swiftly while positioning myself among the shadows, preparing for a surprise attack. If wanted to go loud, at least I’ll have to wait until I get inside. Having people shooting at me here without anywhere to run for cover would be suicide. There are two cronies by the front door. They’re whining as if they never did like their job. Charging through the front door would be a foolish act, but I wasn’t that smart, not that there’s another way in. I silently kill the guards by the front door, and kick the front door open. In front of me is a large room, a living room of some sort. I guess this would be a room to have a party in, and tonight is party time. The guards are surprised, they’re trying to reach their weapons, but I was faster. I shot a guy in the head, he was already had his gun and about to shoot me. I kill the rest of them. Some of them haven’t even reached out to their weapons. Some of them who do, they shot like an old lady. They spread bullets everywhere, making a pattern of bullet holes on the wall. None of them hit me. Upstairs, the don’s voice jarring like a storm, shouting commands to his lackeys. Bad news, Budi Prakoso, Reza Kamaro is coming to get you. You play, you pay, you bastard.
I went upstairs; there is three pair of legs coming after me. I make short works of them. I got no time for small-timers. I went directly for the final boss of the game, Budi Prakoso. He held up in his study, crying up in the corner of the room. Luckily he had neither wife nor children, not anymore, words is his wife doesn’t really appreciates the kind of life her husband lead. That makes it much easier to kill him without his family around. Slowly I approach him, he wept harder as I draw closer. I point the mouth of my gun directly into his head. He started to plead, but I pretend I hear nothing. He said he’s sorry for putting a hit on my parents because of the debt they had, he said he’ll give me money if I let him live. Hell, he even offered me a job. A stereotype mob boss you saw on action movies, which tend to stoop so low as to beg for mercy while their life is threatened. But as soon as you dropped your guard; BAM! You’re dead. I stay silence and focused, his plead slowly turns into anger. My trigger finger twitched.
Pity, He chose profanity as his last words.