The International Society of Serial Killers, or simply "The ISSK" is an underground society of the most elite killers. The group only allows fifty people at a time, hosting an all-out killing spree to decide who will remain and who will replace. Existing members are included in the games as well. It is impossible to cheat, because there are no rules in the Game.
I neared the woman, slipping a thin knife from my sleeve. She whimpered through the duct tape on her mouth, struggling against the rope tying her to the chair.
“Don’t look so scared,” I said, almost laughing, “This’ll be quick. Actually, it’ll be slow. Painfully slow.”
The woman looked as if she would faint, eyes streaming with tears. We were both in a deserted alley, enjoying the morning drizzle. I knew I was, at least.
A sudden gust of wind nearly stole my fedora, giving me cause to grab it with a hand, pulling it further over my eyes. I paused, squinting up into the foggy sky. An envelope, a perfect envelope, was drifting down towards me, attached to a parachute-like bag.
I snatched it soon as it was within arm’s reach, savouring the grey cardstock and ripping it open, eyes feasting on the invitation.
J. R. I.
The Games have begun. We meet tomorrow in the Russian offices.
I grinned, eager to leave, but turned reluctantly to the still-bound woman behind me.
“Now what do I do with you..?” I muttered, somewhat bothered.
I took my briefcase from the ground, stuffing the letter into a pocket. A bit of rifling through it and I’d found the thick bottle, which was conveniently full.
I walked to the woman and ripped the tape from her mouth, giving her a split second to recover from the sting.
“Any last words?”
She looked at the bottle fearfully, struggling again.
“What is that?”
I carefully popped the top off and, smiling, dumped the entire contents onto her.
“Anhydrous perchloric acid,” I said, walking off, briefcase in hand once more, “Highly corrosive.”
She screamed in agony, again and again, even as her flesh no doubt melted around her. I smirked and hailed a cab once I’d reached the street, telling the driver to drop me off at the airport.
He did so quite quickly and efficiently, and asked a fairly low fare, so I rewarded him with a quick death. Slashed his throat. It was rather messy, though.
“Can I help you?”
I looked up at the clerk, realizing my turn had come.
“Yes, actually. I’d like a one-way ticket to Moscow.”
“Just one moment, Ma’am. Could I have your passport for a moment?”
I obliged, letting my mind wander to new poisons I could try out. Cyanide was always an option, but it was much too quick. Acids were much more effective.
“Alright, Ms. Ipper, I’ve got you down for the next flight-takes off in an hour or so, I believe.”
I smiled, taking the boarding pass.
“Please, it’s just Jack.”
The clerk nodded curtly and I headed off, sitting in my flight’s waiting area.
I hated waiting. It was so...boring, so unproductive. Had barely any purpose to it.
I took my hat off, shaking my black hair loose, and leaned back in my seat, hands stuffed into the pockets of my trench coat. A nap sounded like a good idea, as much as I wanted to deny it.
I let my eyes wander, abruptly stopping as I noticed an attractive-looking young man staring at me. He stopped as soon as I noticed him, looking away with a blush. A grin came to my face, nap forgotten. Things had just gotten much more productive.
My hands were submerged in soapy suds a few minutes later, a puddle of blood visible in the washroom mirror. The man had been much less of a challenge than I’d hoped; all it took was a bit of bait and he’d come willingly, making it easy for me to finish him off.
I shut the tap off, looking up and meeting my own blue eyes in the mirror before, smoothing out my hair and picking up my briefcase, headed back to the waiting area for my flight, pleased to see that it was time to board.
“This suitcase hasn’t been through security, ma’am.”
I looked up, annoyed, before pulling the grey envelope from my pocket. The man looked taken aback but nodded, moving aside so that I could board. I grabbed my briefcase and walked through the tunnel, quickly getting into my seat and pulling my hat down over my eyes. The three-hour flight passed uneventfully, leaving me free to nap.
I was in the ISSK building within a day’s time, standing in the auditorium as the man onstage spoke.
“You will be outfitted with heart rate monitors. As soon as we have fifty left, the games will be complete. If your monitor goes offline for any reason, you are eliminated. The devices will provide a headcount for those still alive. Any tampering with them will result in instant disqualification.”
I drummed my fingers against my leg impatiently, already familiar with the process. It was boring, at first, but someone usually got chopped up halfway through the meeting. That was the best part, really.