Cain’s Blog post
You know, when Calliope told me she was starting this stupid website, I thought she was asking to get caught. The more time that has passed, the more that she had pulled me to her viewpoint. So, here I am plopped down in front of a keyboard with nothing planned. It was funny when Calliope did this. She had notes all strewn about the desk, referencing back and forth. The scrunched up look on her face was adorable.
But that’s neither here nor there. She asked me to write this because I have a unique experience. One that most people don’t come across. I lived in a world that people think only exists in books and movies. You see, I was an assassin. I know you’re probably imagining some person working in the shadows, killing for anyone who could pay their fee. That’s just not how that works at all. At least not for me.
I was raised from a young child to be an assassin. Taught from the tender age of seven to hide who I was—to put on a show for the public. Our family was well known for our handcrafted blades. If only they knew those blades were responsible for more deaths than I could even count. He taught me how to blend, most don’t tend to look at the people that do menial jobs—it was easy to slip in as a contractor or garbage collector.
When I was deemed ready, my father took me out for my first kill. This was not a random process, though it might seem to be. That kill was carefully selected for me by him and his handler. It was a child, not much older than I was at the time. When I had asked what he had done, I was told he stood between his uncle and a fortune. As much as I would like to say I hadn’t killed that child, I can’t.
From that day forward, I killed roughly four people per year. That was until I managed to get ahold of the number for my father’s handler. Turns out that man wasn’t a handler, but a go between.
I’m going to pause here and explain some of the general way that organized assassins work. Now, before I go there, know that none of this will be new information. All of it is easily available online if you know where to look. Anything more than that would make me a target of my own family. Well, not my family per se—we’ll get there.
So, at the bottom of the proverbial ladder are the street contacts. They are the ones that contact a person interested—the ones that get all of the details and pass it on to the investigators. Our investigators are all detail oriented. If the information we are given by the client doesn’t match what we find, then the client becomes our target. From there we have the contract brokers, the ones that get in touch with the actual assassins. We were at the highest level. The most vulnerable, yet also the most protected. So, when someone wants to put a contract out, they are contacted and things move up the ladder until the unfortunate person is visited by one of us. All of this is run by the CIA. I know everyone is going to think this is conspiracy and that’s fair, but my kills are public record as is my connection to the CIA. That is if the police released everything that was on that drive.
I started the same way all of us start, taking every client that I could without getting caught. Just like with everything in life, your reputation matters. It takes time to get your name out there. My father opened a lot of doors that would have been otherwise closed to me. I worked my way up, building a reputation as I went until I could pick my clients and choose my own jobs.
Before we fled, I chose to not leave the country, I couldn’t risk Ayden almost dying again. Staying close to my pack and my omega. But that’s a story for another day.