“I knew it, this is where it has all been leading!”
“This is the balance the universe has been telling us about!”
“Girls, they will try and kill you and take away everything you have. Do not let them. Never, NEVER let anyone take advantage of you.”
Stepan began to cough up more blood, he was clearly dying.
“Everything you need is locked in the safe in the basement. Yuki will know what to do. Take care of your mother, give her whatever she needs or wants.”
“We will papa.”
“We promise.”
Stepan reached up and put his hands on his daughter’s heads and smiled as he looked at them.
“You are exactly the type of children I always wanted: fearless, smart, beautiful, deadly. You have a bond so unique, no one alive on Earth has it. Use it to your advantage, trust only each other, love only each other. When I was young, the universe spoke to me, but it stopped. Now I suspect it speaks to you. Heed its words. Remember, your papa loves you. You are My daughters……MY daughters…….tell your mom……tell her….I love her………….more light…….”
Stepan was gone.
The girls stared at the only father they ever knew, tears in their eyes. Destruction silently closed Stepan’s eyes with her hand, Danger removed her hand from his wound.
“Papa is in heaven now.”
“Yes. We will see him again someday.”
“Not yet, and not until we say so.”
“We need to find Auntie Yuki and Mommy.”
The twins entered the house and made their way to the panic room. They keyed in the code and the door opened, revealing a very distraught Genesis.
“Girls! My girls!” she cried as she grabbed the twins into her arms.
“Mommy are you ok?” Marcela asked.
“Mommy please be ok!” Gabby added.
“Yes little ones, I am ok. Are YOU both ok? Please tell me you are ok!”
“We are ok mommy, don’t worry.”
“We still have all our fingers and toes!”
“Dearest ones, what happened?”
“Some bad men attacked the house mommy, a lot of them.”
“But its ok now mommy, you are safe.”
“Bad men? Are they still out there?”
“No mommy.”
“We killed them all.”
Genesis gasped and looked at her daughters. A sudden realization crept over her, one that hit her in the heart like a semi-truck. Despite her best efforts, despite everything, her daughters had become the very thing she did not want them to become: killers. She sat on the floor in the hall and began to sob.
“I failed, I am so sorry my little ones, I failed you as a mother.”
“What? No mommy!”
“You are the best mommy in the world!”
The twins sat beside their mother and hugged her tight.
“Mommy you are the greatest!”
“Yeah we love you so much!”
“I love you too my angels, but I should have been there more for you, I should have done a better job. I should have gone to America. This is all my fault.”
“Mommy, you cannot change what we are,” Gabby said.
Genesis looked up at her twins.
“Change what you are?”
“Uh huh,” Marcela nodded.
“What are you?” Genesis asked quietly.
“Forces of nature,” the twins answered in unison.
The present day
“Auntie Yuki did you like dinner?’
“Yes dear one, it was very good. You are both very good cooks.”
The twins smiled as they cleared the table. They had made Amok trey, a traditional Khmer dish of fish steamed and wrapped in banana leaves. As the twins cleaned the dishes, they listened to Yuki speak.
“You are both very good to me, I am sorry I cannot be more help.”
“Its ok Auntie Yuki, you are always a big help to us!”
“Yes you are, you are our guiding light!”
Yuki smiled. Her injury had damaged her mentally. Her thoughts were slower, she forgot things, her reflexes and reaction times were 1/10 of what they used to be, but she still lived a full life.
“Oh dears, your old Auntie Yuki knows she has problems, but I am so glad I have my two precious ones to take care of me.”
“We will always take care of you Auntie Yuki!”
“Yes, you are our family!”
“I love you both so much. Before I have one of my forgetful spells, I want to ask you, did you plan on us going home this summer?”
“Yes Auntie Yuki, Marcela and I have been talking about it. We think it would be nice to spend the summer home in Cambodia.”
“It will be nice to go back to the house and sit in the garden don’t you think?”
“Yes dears, I think it will be nice. It will be good to see your parents again.”
The twins exchanged looks and frowned sadly.
“Auntie Yuki, you forgot, mommy and papa are in heaven now.”
A puzzled look came to Yuki’s face, then she bowed her head, a tear fell from her eye.
“I forgot, I am so sorry my dearest ones, I am ashamed to have forgotten the fate of two people I loved so much. And I am sorry for reminding you of such pain and sorrow.”
The twins hugged Yuki tight, kissing her hair.
“It’s ok Auntie Yuki, do not be ashamed, you cannot help your injury.”
“We know you loved them, and we know you will always hold them in your heart, just as we do.”
“I know, I just forget. Damn this injury. I love you both so much.”
The three held each other tight for a long time.
“I think it’s time for me to go relax in my chair dearest ones.”
“Ok Auntie Yuki, we will help you.”
The twins helped Yuki to her room, which was very large. The French doors in it led to a small terrace where Yuki spent many nights sitting looking at the stars, trying to remember things she had forgotten. They helped Yuki wash and get changed and sat her in her favorite recliner, a glass of water with lemon placed on the table beside her, along with her Kindle Fire.
“I remember when you both were so small, I was the one who took of you then. How time and fate have changed things.”
“We will always look after you Auntie Yuki.”
“Yes, we will, forever.”
The three women hugged each other tight for a long while.
“I think I will read now, if I need anything I will ring the bell.”
“Ok Auntie Yuki, you know we will be in the house somewhere in case you do need us.”
“Have a nice read Auntie Yuki!”
The twins exited the room and closed the door softly behind them. There would be no bell, there never was. Yuki always managed to put herself to bed. The memory of dinner was already flowing from her mind into the void.
The girls walked back to the kitchen and finished cleaning. Mr. Fluffywoogums sat on the counter watching them with a scowl.
“He looks angry as usual,” Destruction noted.
“Awww he is a happy kitty!” Danger squealed as she grabbed him and hugged him tight.
“I think he is hungry, I will top his bowl off with food,” Destruction laughed as she filled his food dish. Danger sat the cat down and he immediately began to eat.
“Now don’t eat too much Mr. Fluffywoogums or you will get fat and I will have to put you on the treadmill!” Danger said pointing to the feline.
The twins finished in the kitchen and proceeded to the living room, an immense area with a 78 inch Ultra HD hung against the wall, a fireplace to the side, and black leather couches and recliners filling out the scene. On the ground was a huge Polar Bear skin rug, and the girls flopped down on it with some pillows and turned on tv.
“What do you want to watch?” Danger asked.
“Ancient Aliens!” Destruction answered.
“Oh my God every reason they ever give for anything is alie
ns! Like, hey the Pyramids were built by aliens! The Titanic was sunk by aliens! My car won’t start so it must be ALIENS!” Danger said dramatically as she elbowed her sister in the ribs.
“Hey! There make some valid points!” Destruction replied as she elbowed her sister back.
“I am out of peanut butter!! ALIENS!!!” Danger laughed as she tussled her sister’s hair.
“Oh my God really? You really felt the best thing to do was tussle my hair?” Destruction said with a grin.
Danger suddenly put her hands on the side of her sister’s face and leaned in and kissed her deeply and lovingly for a long time.
The twins broke the kiss and stared into each other’s eyes.
“I love you so much,” Danger said.
“I love you too, you are my whole world,” Destruction replied.
“I cannot imagine life without you, and I have never lived life without you,” Danger whispered softly.
“You are my beautiful demon goddess, my dark shadow on a moonlit night,” Destruction replied softly.
Danger snuggled in close to her sister, their legs intertwined, her head resting against her sister’s shoulder. They watched TV as they lay there feeling the warmth between them.
“I could do this every day forever, being here with you.”
“Me too, all I need is to be with you and I am happy.”
On the TV, Ancient Aliens attempted to prove golf was invented by aliens.
“The universe speaks to me.”
“It speaks to me too.”
“It says we need to balance things.”
“Balance must be maintained.”
“I love being with you.”
“I love being with you too, I always want to be with you.”
“There is no one on Earth like us.”
“We are unique.”
“You are my demon goddess, my brutal murdering work of art, my magnificent dangerous aria.”
“You are the cold wind on my neck, my whisper of a storm rolling across a field of broken skulls, my wondrous symphony of destruction.”
“I dream dark dreams about you, of us standing on a field of broken and dead bodies, their cries are arias, their screams sonnets.”
“We are eternal.”
“We are forces of nature.”
“We cannot die.”
The twins snuggled closer and dreamed murderous dreams.
The Ghost and the Darkness cont’d
Ajani scrolled through the laptop display, checking out news stories. His partner in arms, Banga, sipped tea and flipped through some charts. The two men were Rwandan assassins, nicknamed “The Ghost and the Darkness”. Both men were in their early 40’s, and grew up in the holocaust that was the Rwandan Civil War. This experience hardened them as life was a daily struggle for survival amongst the genocide occurring all around them.
Now the two men existed in a shadow world that most of the world did not know existed. A world dominated by a global organization which had no official name. An organization that had a strict code of conduct, ethics, rules, and procedures. Very few living humans knew this world existed, but everyone alive felt its touch, whether they realized it or not.
“When will we initiate the plan?” Banga asked.
“Soon, I am evaluating potential targets to use as bait. I want to cover a broad an area as possible but still have the ability to respond to any rapidly developing events,” Ajani answered.
“Good, this country annoys me,” Banga replied.
“Temper your anger, save it for our targets.”
“My anger is my strength, I will not temper it.”
Ajani grinned.
“Good, you will need it when the time comes.”
Ajani continued to scroll through the laptop, searching for people to use as bait. The plan was simple: using the SMMC’s reputation for killing people who ‘deserved’ it, the two Rwandans planned to plant a series of false new stories in various parts of the country detailing a particularly heinous and shocking crime. The ‘perpetrators’ of the crime would have tiny implants inside them, homing beacons that the two men could follow, and then surprise the unexpected SMMC and kill them. The hard part was getting the implants inside the people they planned to use as bait and coordinating the entire affair from the middle of the country, where they could fly in any given direction at a moment’s notice.
Fate, however, sometimes has her own way of doing things.
Ajani peered at the laptop screen.
“Have you ever heard of something called ‘The Holy Warriors of Allah’?” he asked Banga.
“No, it isn’t the name of any group I know of, and I know them all. It sounds like a bad effort at naming a group for some low budget American movie that would probably star Bruce Willis,” he answered.
“Hmm, well, according to what I am reading here, they phoned in a bomb threat to a museum, and the threat turned out to be false.”
“Oh? Why is that important? Sounds like a bunch of kids pulling a prank.”
“That is what I would have thought too, until I read more. Look at this,” Ajani said as he tapped a few keys on the laptop, transferring the screen shot to the large monitor against the wall. Banga read the news report and frowned.
“I don’t understand, the bomb threat was false, yet someone was killed?”
“Yes, look at what it says: ‘Discovered in a sweep of the museum was the body of 53 year old Randy Fowler, a maintenance worker who had been on the job for 12 years. Police say Fowler was found in the stall of a ladies bathroom, his neck snapped, one eye gouged out, and multiple bruises on his corpse.”
“Probably drug related, he owed someone money. The bomb threat was a diversion to mask the murder of this guy. So what?”
“It’s not all: ‘Upon searching Fowler’s home for any clues that would help them determine why he was murdered, police found a massive stash of child pornography, including many images of children reported to have been missing for years. Police are further examining this new development.”
“Ok, so he was a pedophile, a child pornographer, a general all around pervert. So some angry parents did not want to trust the incompetent law enforcement in this country, and decided to kill the guy. They use the bomb threat as a decoy, a few of them get this man in the ladies bathroom and kill him. Good for them, I would gladly buy them a beer. Old school vigilantism, so what?”
“Banga, brother, this crime fits the SMMC perfectly. This is exactly the sort of thing they would do.”
Banga looked at the images on the large monitor.
“If that is so, where is the video? They always record their kills, they are arrogant show offs. It would have been uploaded by now.”
Ajani frowned.
“That is the one thing that puzzles me. This fits them so well, but no video, no record.”
“Then it wasn’t them Ajani, stop chasing phantoms.”
“But this fits them so perfectly, other than the lack of a record, this is a typical kill for them based on all our research. Indulge me Banga, consider that it could have been them, why no upload? What was different about this kill?”
Banga shook his head and sighed.
“I will indulge you brother, though I think it is a waste of time.”
Banga looked at the large screen, studying it. He tried to think like the SMMC. Why would they not record this particular kill?
“Ajani, put up one of their kill videos please,” Banga asked.
Ajani keyed in a few clicks and in a pop up window, a video of one of the SMMC’s kills appeared.
Banga looked at the record of the killing then glanced to the museum crime scene report. He looked back and forth several times, thinking. Finally, it hit him.
“This wasn’t planned. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Ajani smiled.
“Explain,” he asked.
“Look at the kill video, everything is staged. Every video we have of them, even the Arctic Mall commentary, is all stag
ed in a dark room. They are recording it at a central location. But this kill, this happened in a public location, in a bathroom, with no record.”
“They were surprised,” Ajani said quietly.
“They weren’t expecting this,” Banga added.
“But how did this happen? Why did it happen?” Ajani said aloud.
The two men stared at the large monitor, processing the information.
“They were there on their own, they were taking a tour of the museum, maybe scouting it out for a larger episode like the Arctic Mall, and somehow they ran afoul of this Fowler guy.”
“But why would they interact? If they were not targeting Fowler specifically, what made them interact with a guy who was a closet pedophile and child pornographer?”
“He was found dead in a ladies toilet.”
“They are female………” Ajani said as he voice trailed off.
Banga peered at the newspaper clippings of the incident.
“What are those big yellow trucks parked out in front of the museum?” he asked.
“School buses,” Ajani replied quietly.
“School buses, this country is full of lazy children. What does this mean, ‘Parkside Middle School’, what IS a middle school?”
Ajani stood up and walked to the large monitor.
“In this country, they divide their education into different schools depending on age. Elementary school, Middle School, and High School, then College and University. Middle School students in this country are between the ages of 12 to 14.”
Banga scoffed.
“So it was a teacher or something, unless one of the students-“
Banga’s words hung in midair as his eyes widened, his breath and pulse now racing.
“It can’t be,” he whispered.
Those three words hung in the air for a long time. The two Rwandans stared at the large monitor, both of them fixated on the continuously playing video of the twins killing their victim.
“Look at them, in the video. Look at them compared to their victim, how much smaller they are than him. Look at their mannerisms, listen to how they talk to each other. The familiarity of the words and conversations,” Ajani said quietly.
“They behave like family.”
“Like sisters.”
The two men stared at the screen for a long time.
“It can’t be them, it’s impossible.”
The Social Media Murder Corp Page 15
