Send to Kill

The Angel of Death, a nameless specter, had carved a path of destruction across the years, his confidence growing with each kill. Killing had become a routine; now, he craved chaos. Akkerstad, a small yet bustling town, was ruled by gangsters. Three main gangs held sway: the Zulus, the Mexicans (known as “The Guys” by locals), and the Ruthless.

The Zulus operated under the guise of business, though their methods were anything but legal. They once owned half of Akkerstad, including the Grand Casino, until Ruthless emerged from the shadows. Ruthless was elusive, a gang intertwined with corrupt police, truly ruling the town until the arrival of a new force—The New Guys. This group stormed into Akkerstad, seizing control of the Grand Casino and driving the Zulus into retreat. Even Ruthless couldn’t stop them, and it appeared The New Guys were on a path to dominate the entire town.

The Angel of Death had a connection in Ruben Alley, a troubled neighborhood in Akkerstad. A woman there had confided in him about her daughter, who was deep into the South African drug known as Tik. The mother lamented how her daughter stole from her, shouted at her, and disappeared for months. In a moment of desperation, she expressed a wish that her daughter would just die.

Taking her words to heart, the Angel of Death found the girl, who was eight months pregnant. After killing her, he mutilated her body, removing her baby, arms, legs, and breasts, stuffing the remains into a wheelie bin and leaving it in a park. This gruesome act fueled his hunger for more chaos.

The Angel of Death decided to pit the gangs against one another, seeking a greater challenge. His first target was the Zulus. Under the cover of night, he entered the bedroom of their leader, Sibu. Sibu lay in bed, startled awake by the presence of a masked figure—an imposing man clad in a white UFO alien mask and a hood.

“Who the hell… and how? There are thousands of my men on the ground… who are you?” Sibu stammered, fear creeping into his voice.

The Angel of Death leaned casually against the doorway, his hands buried in his pockets, and threw three photographs onto the bed. Sibu’s eyes widened as he recognized the girl in the pictures—the one he had heard was missing.

The masked man revealed a note that simply read, “PAY ME,” then pointed out the window toward the casino.

“I’ll kill for you, but you pay,” he said coolly.

“I’ll give you a list of names…” Sibu began, but the masked figure stood up, ready to leave.

“Don’t you want to hear how much?” Sibu called after him.

“I’ll be back. Soon. Make the list and keep the money ready.”

As the Angel of Death slipped out onto the balcony, Sibu seethed with anger, shouting at his guards about the audacity of the intruder.

A week later, the Angel of Death returned to Sibu’s room. This time, Sibu slept soundly, unaware of the figure watching over him. The Angel held the list in his hand, studying the first name: Antonio Lopez. He was the youngest brother of the leader of The New Guys and controlled their drug operations. Killing him would spark a war.

While the Angel of Death plotted, Detective Kabaal arrived at Preacher’s house, knocking until Olivia, Preacher’s wife, opened the door. She greeted Kabaal warmly and invited him in. They chatted until Preacher finally appeared, grabbing a quick bite and some coffee.

Kabaal turned to Preacher after finishing his conversation with Olivia. “My man Preacher, have you read the newspaper? The one from a week ago?”

“What happened?” Preacher asked, intrigued.

“The teenager who got chopped up and stuffed in a wheelie bin.”

“Oh yeah, I saw that one,” Preacher replied, recalling the gruesome details.

“And I’m still waiting for you to give me that answer. It’s been a week,” Kabaal pressed.

“I know. Don’t worry, I’ve decided to join in,” Preacher said, a determined glint in his eyes.

“Good. When will you start?”

“When do you want me to start? It’s up to you to tell me,” Preacher replied.

“You have your own way of doing things. If you could start today, that would be a bonus. I could take you to the field where we found the bin—maybe even to her family.”

Preacher considered this. “You know, I had a vision of a woman. It felt like God wanted me to give her a message. Now that you mention the bin and the field, I can’t help but think of that vision. But I’ll tell you more later.”

Kabaal nodded, eager to hear what Preacher had to share. The game was afoot, and the stakes had never been higher.