[Other Original] A Kingdom Of Skulls

WARNING: Bloodshed and death are common themes in this story. There will be onscreen deaths, possibly in imaginative ways.


Okay, so this is the third story Ive begun writing (I finished the first two, but they were a load of crap so I dont intend to let anyone see them for the time being), and I mainly began writing it because I wanted to write a story about a mans descent into evil. I realise that the descent has already begun before the events taking place in this book, but hopefully theres enough humanity left in him to destroy over the course of this book. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. As of this post, Ive currently written three chapters, with a fourth being in progress. Ill only be posting the Prologue for now, though XD.

Cobalt's forehead creased slightly as he bent over his notes. He would often claim he hated being behind a desk, that he hungered for the action of a hunt, but it was a white lie almost everyone saw through. He enjoyed scheming, marking everything up, calculating losses and making educated decisions. He was one of those people born to lead, and he loved every part of his job, even the monotonous calculations and effort put into a kill. Even now, as he bent over to cross a name off his list, he had a faint smile on his face, and his eyes glimmered happily behind his reading glasses.
It was a wonder, he thought, with all the hate people had for each other, that people were still alive in this city. He was often sought out by even legitimate businessmen, and sometimes he would accept their offers. He understood that a good ruler must make sacrifices for his land. Even then, though, it got to him, the constant scandals, hate, revenge plots that took place in his city. He had managed to limit the chaos to a scale which he found acceptable, however. True, there would be even less chaos if he abolished his business, but there was a certain thrill in holding the lives of millions of people in your hands that he wasn't ready to give up. Not yet, anyhow.
He considered a file with a photo of a fat man in a suit on the cover. The name ANTHONY BUDIERRO was printed in the white space below. There were stacks and stacks of notes in the file, mostly names and financing agreements, but the occasional email as well, printed neatly. Tony Budierro was one of the city's elite, and men only got to that position if Cobalt wished for them to get into that position. He had, in fact, pulled the trigger that had killed Budierro's predecessor. That wasn't to say there wasn't room for improvement. Tony was very stubborn, and often went against Cobalt's desires, but Budierro had his blessing nevertheless.
"Cobalt?"
He looked up, annoyed at being disturbed in the middle of his work. There was a thin man standing in the doorway of his office.
"What is it?" he barked in his raspy growl.
"We found him. The one you were after."
Forgetting his annoyance in an instant, Cobalt broke into a large smile and stood quickly, leaning over his desk, ignoring the fluttering of the papers in the now-open file.
"Excellent….. Is he secure?"
"Yes."
"Bring him in."
Cobalt watched with relish as his men dragged in a man wearing a straightjacket into the room. He had a gag tied over his mouth, and was thrashing and kicking as he was brought in.
"Enough." He commanded.
The man relaxed for a moment to consider Cobalt. He had long, scraggy hair stained with blood, and the skin around his left eye was blacked and shriveled up, as if it had died. But his eye remained intact, large and blue, and gazing into Cobalt's eyes with not anger or hate, but more of a shrewd curiosity.
The men dragged the man into a chair in the room and tied him securely. They left, making sure to close the door behind him. Cobalt looked at the man with a calculating gaze, one the man returned with equal intensity. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Cobalt spoke up.
"So….you're the one who's been killing all those men….I thought you'd be fatter."
The man made a noise. Cobalt thought it might be a scoff.
"I'm going to take out your gag now. You can scream if you like, but no one will hear you."
The man waited till the gag was untied, then sneered. "What do you want?"
"What do you think I want?"
"You obviously don't plan to hand me over to the police, so either you want to kill me or give me a warning." He smiled, incredibly relaxed. "Since this would be a bit extreme for a warning, I assume you're going to kill me."
Cobalt smiled. "Actually, I'm going to do the opposite. What's your name?"
The man paused, considering Cobalt. Then, slowly, "Joseph Donnelly."
"Joseph, is it true that in the past month you've murdered ten men?"
"It was three weeks, actually." Joseph grinned. There was a wild gleam in his eyes.
Cobalt whistled. "Quite a resume."
"I'm a hard worker."
Silence fell over them.
"So what exactly is it you want from me?" Joseph asked.
"I want you to put your….talents to good use."
"You want me to kill someone?" He frowned.
Cobalt pursed his lips. "Well…. Someone implies one person only."
Josephs frown turned into an insane smile as he understood Cobalt's intent.
"You want me to be an assassin?"
Cobalt smiled. "Aye."

Edited with suggestions. Do I post the next chapter straight away or wait for some more replies?

First chapters up. Sorry for not posting this earlier, my internet died >_>

Chapter 1
Cobalt cut through the straightjacket and ropes with a knife from his back pocket. Joseph let out a moan of satisfaction as his hands were freed and he moved his wrists in circles rapidly, working out the worst of the pain.
Cobalt stood and watched silently as Joseph exercised the stiffness out of his arms and back, stretching and twisting. Finally he let out a sigh of contention and turned to Cobalt.
"Who the hell are you?"
Cobalt smiled. "I am the sole reason this city functions the way it does."
"What do you mean?"
"I recruit young, upstanding men like you and I train them to be whatever I need them to be. Some might call me a crime lord, but I've always found that's an over exaggeration. I prime young people to be the next great drug dealer, CEO, politician, whatever I have use of at the time. However, at my core, I specialize in assassins. There isn't an assassin in this city that I don't own. And there are many, many more in this city than you could begin to imagine."
Walking over to his desk, he continued, "I realized a long time ago that I love this city, this bursting metropolis. And there was a time when there was no order, no sensible division, nothing but chaos. Crime was rife. I couldn't stand that. Even as a child, I loved this city as I love little else. It was, in its own way, a parent to me." He gazed over his shoulder. "Do you have parents?"
Josephs face fell. "My parents left me to an orphanage. When I found a foster, they returned me. Said I was too dark for their taste. Too sad. They wanted a bundle of joy. " He giggled. "They were one of the first I killed."
Cobalt's face darkened. "Perhaps that's for the best. Family is a distraction as it is. When did you start killing?"
"Five years ago."
"But you don't look a day over 20…."
"I have a skin disorder. I physically age slower than a normal human. In truth, I am around 27 years old."
Cobalt grunted. "Huh. Interesting."
He turned back to the table. "As I was saying, this city is all I have. I invested all my time into cleaning it up, into removing the monstrous stains that were left upon it. This was where I ended up. I run the drug business, have enough money to buy the police when I have to, and people generally accept that I run this city when they find out. I'm a secret, you see, and a very well kept one. That's the price to pay for controlling thirty million lives. But I keep this city in order. I decide who lives and who dies. I control who gets promoted where and where people work in a thousand tiny ways you wouldn't believe if I told you. I have an army of assassins waiting for jobs. I get paid well for essentially being a dictator. And every major politician has recognized that I am good for this city, and that is the sole reason there isn't a bounty on my head this very second."
"So where do I fit into this?"
"Assassins are dime a dozen. Finding a man who can kill without remorse….I could find that in a single apartment building. But you, my friend, you have something I haven't seen very often. You have the ability to be a schemer. The last man you killed, you did perfectly. Slipped in and out without waking up the dog, waited till the optimum moment to slit his throat….he was a married man murdered in a bathroom and no one found out until morning. It was a perfect execution of a perfect plan."
He poured himself a glass of water and sipped it while he talked. "I want you to be my second in command. I want you to be the man I can rely on when I need a job executed perfectly. I want you to be a man of action without sacrificing any of that sweet intellect of yours. But I need to know you're up for the task, that I'm not choosing the wrong man for the job."
He pulled out a picture of a man and passed it to Joseph.
"That's the man I want you to kill."
Nodding, Joseph cast an eye over the bald man in the photo. "So who is he?"
Cobalt grinned. "Well, that's just it…."
***
Joseph wanted to get straight down to the assassination, but Cobalt forced him to wait. He emphasized that Joseph was still untrained, and that he was too valuable a potential asset to lose so cheaply.
"In the meantime, I expect you to take a few jobs and learn the trade. You're determined, yes, but also inexperienced. You need a man to show you the ropes, guide your senses and make a man out of you."
He took out a mobile and dialed a number, then hung up without waiting for an answer. In a minute or so, a man opened the door and entered.
Josephs first thought was that the man had a chunk of flesh bitten out of his cheek. His second thought was about how foolish the first thought was. The man was wearing makeup art on his cheek, beautifully designed to give the appearance that the right side of his cheek was all flesh and gore. His hair was long and unkempt, and his clothes were baggy and worn out.
"Mr. Donnelly, I'd like you to meet Kenneth Evans, or as the tabloids call him, Loon."
"Pleasure to meet you." Loon smiled and held out his hand.
Joseph stared at it for a second. "You're Loon? The Loon? The murderer of the Reeds and Nelson Gonzales?"
"The very same."
Joseph hesitated a minute longer, then took his hand. "I thought you were bald."
"Used to be."
"Loon here is a veteran of the art. He will guide you and teach you. In time, you may even outstrip him in this field." Cobalt spoke with a rapt fondness. His eyes often glimmered happily when he talked about killing.
Coming out of his daze, he spoke to Joseph. "Outside the door is a man named Jerry. He will take you to a clean room. I suggest getting some sleep, tomorrow might be a busy day." He looked pointedly at the door. Joseph took the hint and left.
Loon looked at Cobalt strangely. "Is this it?"
Cobalt glared at him, then nodded slowly.
"Goddamn. I thought you said we weren't ready."
"We weren't." Cobalt snapped. "We are now."
"What changed?"
"We have him." Cobalt nodded to the door.
"Whats so special about him?" Loon jerked his head towards the door in a mocking fashion.
"You'll see." Cobalt smiled tightly. "I want you to get close to him, Loon. I want to know how that mind of his works. Now get out."
As Loon headed towards the door, Cobalt spoke up. "But don't get too close. If I find out you've been keeping secrets from me again…..Well, you know what I did to the last one. Don't you?"
Loon turned around, a fury in his eyes. "Yes. Yes I do." He turned and left, slamming the door, leaving Cobalt alone in his office with his notes, to sip his water calmly and wait.

Okay guys sorry for the late update but I was offline for a long time
I had an attack a couple of weeks ago and Ive been recovering, plus my friend had a breakup and Ive been helping her get over it so its really been busy.
Anyways, without ado

Someone kicked Joseph hard in the stomach, jerking him awake. As he fell off the bed that Cobalt had prepared for him, gasping for air, Loon's voice rang out.
"Get up. We have a job."
"What the heck was that for?" Joseph gasped.
Loon shrugged. "I felt like it."
Joseph glared at him. He had removed the makeup on his cheek and was instead wearing a wig of dreadlocks that frankly looked ridiculous.
"Who taught you to how to dress?" He sneered.
"Who taught you how to kill?" Loon replied with a laugh. "Come on, get up." He added, offering a gloved hand to him. After another few seconds of glaring at him, Joseph took it and hoisted himself to his feet.
"You woke up late. No time for breakfast. I have some fruits in the car, hurry up and come."
Joseph followed him out of the room. Loon led him through the complex building until they reached a ladder.
"We're underground?"
Loon looked at him strangely. "You didn't know?"
"They had a sack over my head."
"The whole complex is located in the sewers. We've just chosen the unused pipes and cleaned them out. Looks good, no?" He smirked, climbing the ladder. Joseph paused to consider the sheer craziness of the fact that he had gotten a job from a crime lord who lived in the sewer, then shook his head and climbed up after him.
It was a warm morning and Joseph smiled and closed his eyes as he chased after Loon, reveling in the warmth. Which made it all the more embarrassing when Loon stopped suddenly and Joseph walked right into him.
"Oof…Watch it!" Loon snarled, fumbling with some keys. He found the right one, then led him to a rusty beat up car. Noting Joseph's skeptical gaze, he grunted. "It's easier to replace the license plates on old cars."
"License plate?"
"We gotta change them after every job. Too risky not to. People notice things in this city." He got inside the car and slammed the door. Joseph took the passenger seat. Loon thrust a couple of apples into his lap.
"Eat."
Joseph obliged, hungrily gobbling them gratefully. "Thanks. Where are we going?"
"On a job. There's a guy that needs killing. We're the ones to do it."
"Why us specifically?"
"Because Cobalt wants you trained as fast as possible." Loon replied, starting the car.
"Whats so special about me?"
"You're the flavor of the month." He replied, focusing on the road.
"Were you once his flavor of the month?"
"Not really…." He grunted. Joseph could see him getting annoyed, so he shut up for the remainder of the journey.
Loon pulled up some ten minutes later at the side of a road. He leant over and took a briefcase out of the back seat of the car, then nodded at Joseph to get out.
They walked a couple of blocks to an old abandoned building. The city was full of them, despite having a larger populace than most metropolis cities; there were plenty of derelict, ruining buildings that stained the landscape like a smudge of dirt on a brightly painted wall.
Loon led Joseph to the third floor of the building, then into the fifth apartment from the left. There was a huge window in the living room, watching out over the grimy streets below.
Loon pulled off his gloves and opened the briefcase. Inside were the components of a sniper rifle. He quickly assembled the gun, then drew a chair close to the window, opened it partially, sat down, then held the rifle pointing towards a small payphone on the street below.
A minute passed. Five. Joseph was thinking about ways to break the silence when he noticed something on Loons hand. It was a painted hole on his hand, with intricate detail of hanging veins and gore. He had even painted the outside of a gun onto it, so as he held the rifle it really did seem that his hand had a hole in it.
"Whats with you and bloody holes?"
"Huh? Oh, the hand…Well, you don't run with Cobalt for as long as I have without picking up some mental scars." He smirked. "Or so people think."
"What?"
"If you're going to succeed in this business, you need to make yourself known. You need to have something that sets you apart from the other faceless killers….you need a gimmick, if you will. My gimmick is writing the names of my victims in their blood."
"I've heard of that. The tabloids thought it was a vigilante crime. They called you a 'righteous butcher.'"
"They also called me a crazy bastard. And word of that spread. Even Cobalt doesn't believe I'm completely sane."
"So you aren't insane?"
Loon smiled. "Cobalt wouldn't put you into my hands if I was."
"So why don't you correct them?"
He shrugs. "No need. I don't care what they think about me. In fact, I've amplified it. I'm a makeup artist, a master of disguise. And each day every day I make some part or the other of my body look like a bloody mess."
"Why?"
"At first it started out as a mark of respect. I….had a….partner in crime, for lack of a better word. One day a job went sideways. We got kidnapped and held hostage. Cobalt found us in the end, but not before my partner had a huge chunk of flesh bitten out of his chest by a rabid dog. So for a few weeks I made a 'hole' in my cheek as a mark of respect. Others believed I'd gone insane. Cobalt… well, he asked me to keep up that belief. So I kept doing it, and I'll do it until he tells me to stop."
There was an awkward silence as Joseph processed what he had been told. Partly to break the silence, and partly to change the topic, he asked why they were waiting.
"This is an assassination. Waiting's the name of the game. We think a mark is going to show up at that booth in…" he checked his watch, "fifteen minutes. We're here early in case he decides to show up early. And we'll be here for fifteen minutes after the deadline if he doesn't show; just to make sure he's not coming."
"So this is what you do? Go to places in the hopes of killing someone?"
"Essentially. But there are also the murders that we take credit for." He smiled widely. "We've got one scheduled for today, actually. I think you'll like it."
He lowered the gun and stretched, grimacing. "I'm tired. Want a go?" He asked, offering Joseph the gun.
"Hell yes."
Joseph took the gun and sat down. He shivered at its cold touch, then gripped it and lowered his eye to the crosshairs.
"Who's the guy we're going to kill?"
"Vincent Dorak. He runs in the drug business."
"Don't we run the drug business?"
"Most of it."
"So why we killing him?
"He's getting a little too frisky. A little too…free with the products. We think he may be a snitch."
"Think?"
"We aren't certain. But it's not worth taking the risk."
"So who's he coming to phone?"
"His wife. Their phone is tapped, and he knows it. His wife's out of town. He phones her every once in a while from here."
"What does he say?"
"We aren't sure."
"You're gonna kill a man without being sure?"
"We've killed men for less."
A man rounded the corner. Joseph tensed.
"That him?"
"Yeah. Want me to shoot or are you fine?"
"I got it."
Vincent Dorak was walking at a quickened pace. When he was about five steps from the booth, Joseph's finger tightened on the trigger. The gun buckled, the recoil twisting his arm, the force of it sending his whole body into tremors. Dorak's head split open without him even knowing it. The look on his face as his step faltered and he went down, blood spraying was one of peaceful happiness. His last thought was about whether he should pick up some milk for his daughter. He was dead before he hit the floor, but he would never know that.
The body fell. There was no spasming of limbs or gasping. Dorak simple lay there, in a pool of grime and his old cooling blood, smiling peacefully. The police would later say he felt no pain as the life slipped from his body.
Loon whistled appreciatively. "Damn. Good shot."
Joseph turned to him, and Loons face fell. "Joseph?"
"Yeah?"
"….Never mind." He frowned. "Let's go. We've got places we need to be."
Joseph helped pack the gun, before taking the lead in going down the stairs. Loon looked at him warily as he followed.
He had seen killers from every walk of life. He had seen men who begged their victims for forgiveness, and he had also seen men who shot onlookers along with their targets, just for sport. He had seen the worst of humanity and five minutes ago he would have said he had seen every reaction to a murder possible.
But there had been something in Joseph's expression as he turned to face him that didn't quite scare him, but unsettled him like few others had. It wasn't just the insane glee on his face, or even the twisted smile on his face. It was something in his eyes that disturbed him. It wasn't sorrow, happiness, or even neutrality. It was… something closer to…Loon couldn't find the word. The closest word he had to describe what he had seen in Joseph's eyes was hunger, and even that did not do it justice.