It was a cold night. The streets seed abandoned, save for the occasional hum of neon signs flickering weakly against the darkness. Kant moved through the shadows like a phantom, the world around him distant, like it had no bearing on him at all.
He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that sothing was wrong, sothing about tonight. It wasn’t the weather, or the emptiness of the city. No, it was sothing else. The kind of eerie feeling you get when you know you’re about to do sothing that doesn’t belong in the world.
A flicker of movent ahead. His target.
Gabriel Everett was walking ahead of him, weaving drunkenly from one sidewalk to the other, like a man who couldn’t decide which direction to go. But Kant had no intention of letting him wander any further.
Everett Holdings. A na that had always made Kant’s stomach turn. They had their hands in everything: technology, dia, real estate, and more. And as the heir to the empire, Gabriel Everett was the living embodint of everything Kant despised. Arrogant, entitled, and seemingly oblivious to the world that had been built around him. The type of person who was handed everything in life, and still managed to complain.
But tonight wasn’t about ideals or justice. It was about business.
"Why do I always end up doing this?" Kant muttered to himself, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead despite the cold. He wasn’t sure if it was the weight of the job or the strange tension hanging in the air, but sothing felt... off. His fingers tightened around the grip of the gun tucked under his coat.
The plan had been simple: follow Everett, wait until he was isolated, and take him out. In and out. Easy. No need for complications. But for so reason, tonight felt different.
Gabriel was muttering to himself now, stumbling down the street, his blazer half falling off his shoulder. The rich kid didn’t seem to have a care in the world, even as he staggered and giggled to himself. His carefree attitude was irritating. How does he not know what he’s walking into?
Kant adjusted his position, carefully moving closer. As he stepped through the shadows, the streets seed to grow quieter, as though the city itself was holding its breath. And that odd chill? It hadn’t gone away. In fact, it felt like the world had dropped a degree, just enough to make him uncomfortable.
Everett had stopped at a small bench in a secluded corner of the street. He collapsed onto it, fumbling with his phone. Kant lingered in the shadows, waiting, feeling the minutes stretch like hours.
Then it hit him. That ridiculous thought, completely uninvited: I wish he were here.
His mind wandered, a fleeting mory of soone long gone. He used to have soone to talk to during nights like this—soone who would’ve laughed at the absurdity of it all. Soone who could’ve made this cold, dreary night feel just a little more bearable.
But that person was gone, swallowed up by ti, leaving only an empty space in his mind. And now, all he had were jobs like this. Silencing people like Gabriel Everett.
He shoved the thought aside, focusing again. No ti for that. The job cos first.
Everett’s voice broke through his thoughts. He was muttering again, but this ti it wasn’t just a song. He was speaking to himself, his words slurring together. "Why’s everything so ssed up? Can’t even get a decent drink anymore..."
Kant’s jaw clenched. He moved forward, closer now, staying out of sight. This was the mont. He needed to move.
Everett, completely unaware, leaned back, his head tilting toward the sky as though he was too drunk to realize he was in a dangerous position.
That’s when Kant made his move. A quick step forward, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him into the shadows of an alleyway. He shoved the barrel of the gun into Everett’s back, pressing it hard enough to make the point clear.
"Who—" Gabriel’s voice cut off in confusion, his body stiffening.
Kant didn’t answer. No need to. There was only one thing to do now. He pulled the trigger.
The shot rang out in the quiet alley, its sound muffled, swallowed up by the night. Everett crumpled to the ground, lifeless, his body slumping forward as if it had never been more than a rag doll.
For a mont, Kant stood there, breathing heavily, his hand still gripping the gun. He glanced around, the shadows feeling a little too close, the chill in the air biting at his skin.
And then he heard it.
A sound. A faint sound, coming from Everett’s body.
A groan.
Kant’s heart skipped. He turned slowly, almost against his will. The body—Everett’s body—was still on the ground. But standing above it was another figure.
It was... him.
The ghost of Gabriel Everett.
Gabriel stood there, looking at his own lifeless form with wide, confused eyes. The figure was translucent, shimring faintly like an echo of the living. The ghost’s face twisted in shock as he looked down at his hands, his clothes, his bloodied shirt.
"No, no, no... What’s happening?" the ghostly Gabriel stamred, trying to grasp at his own body but passing right through it like smoke. "I’m... dead?"
Kant blinked, his mind racing for an explanation, any explanation. "What the hell is going on?" he muttered.
But the ghost was relentless. He spun in a circle, glaring at his body. "I was supposed to get out of here tonight, to do... to do anything for myself! Why would you take that from ?" His voice cracked with frustration. "Now I’m stuck—in this—this thing!"
Kant rubbed his face, his confusion deepening. "I’m not a doctor, alright? I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I’m not sticking around to babysit your ghostly ass."
"I’m not dead!" the ghost spat, desperate. "Help ! Get back in my body!" He threw his arms out as if to dive into the corpse, only to pass straight through it again.
Kant’s head was spinning. This wasn’t part of the plan. This was insane.
But the ghost didn’t stop. He kept hovering, pleading, complaining, whining.
"No! People are going to find out—what will they think of ?" The ghost waved his hands frantically.
"Don’t give a shit." Kant didn’t bother to look back at him. He was done with this.
"Where are you going? Hey, hey!" Gabriel’s voice cracked.
Kant didn’t look back. He didn’t have ti to think about ghosts. He had a job to finish, and this... whatever it was... wasn’t part of the plan.
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