by Jeremy Scott
Jameson's encounter with the shadows.
|Jameson sat on top of his roof, staring into the west watching the sun go down. Some may have thought he looked ridiculous wearing all white clothes from the top of his head down to the tip of his toes. He looked as if he were trying to make a point, as if he were representing his gang's colors or maybe he was the Don of a large mafia. He definitely was making a point. "A damn good point," he muttered to himself. The bottom of the sun was just beginning to hit the horizon and Jameson knew it was time to go inside. The city provided a lot of light, but it didn't matter, he knew that much. Especially for him. There was a bounty on his head. When you were wanted as bad as Jameson was, the flicker of a light into darkness was all it took. He stood up, turned to look at his shadow behind him, gave a quick nod and flashed a grim smile before turning back around, walking away from his shadow, and walked inside.
Jameson was a made man in the city, everyone knew who he was. None of his fame came from his charity work. Everyone had ideas, suspicions, rather, about how he made his money, but no one was certain. The truth was, Jameson was a hitman of sorts. A good one too, by all accounts. His hit list was said to include judges, lawyers, mayors, and even rumors of a US Vice President and two foreign leaders. When Jameson thought about it, he just chuckled. "If only they knew," he said with a sly smile.
Even more amazing than the "who's who" of Jameson list was how many was on the list. He cackled a bit more. "Aaah, if only they knew," he said in a slight manner of jest. Jameson had in fact killed over five hundred people in his life, more than a few were important people or leaders of nations.
But, even more amazing to those that had their suspicions of Jameson, for they had no idea who and how many he had actually killed, was how he did it and how he got away with it. Well into his seventh decade, Jameson dropped out of high school to start killing for a living. He had no idea then that he would do this for the rest of his life, or even more than once, he just knew that he had an offer he could not refuse. Of course, he was young and dumb, even naive.But, when the Devil himself walks up to you and offers you all the money and power you could ever dream of, its hard to turn down. And so Jameson became an assassin. For the Devil. He was able to kill for over fifty years and get away with it because he killed from the shadows, the dominion of the Devil.
Being a shadow assassin was actually quite easy since the killing part never bother Jameson. Killing from the shadows was so, so simple and that is what made it hard for Jameson to walk away from. People never checked the darkness, the shadows. To Jameson, people seemed to be so afraid of what they might find, they just assumed it better to never look and that is what made it easy.
The Devil showed Jameson how to send his soul into his shadow, then move his shadow about from place to place. That was a bit tricky. "Shadows can only move in the darkness," Jameson remembered the Devil telling him. "If there is light about, the shadows stay put." There was more to it than that. "Shadows are actually created by light," the Devil told him. "Its the absence of light. Shadows can move from shadow to shadow," the Devil explained.
Jameson learned the trick of moving in shadows quickly. The key was to move from shadow to shadow. Jameson would cast his shadow into the shadow of a wall or some other large object, then send his soul to his shadow and become part of the wall shadow. When a passerby would cast their shadow against the wall, Jameson's shadow would possess their shadow with his own shadow. If that person was wearing black, and absence of light, he could just possess the person and have them take his shadow where he needed it.
Once he had his shadow in place, the kill was easy. If his shadow possessed someone else, he would just have that person kill his target, then jump out of his host into another shadow. If Jameson couldn't possess someone else, he would just possess his victim. Apparent suicides are often actually possession killings, Jameson knew. Jameson knew all too well.
Jameson knew for some time that the Devil thought him going soft and he also knew the Devil blamed his wife for it. His wife, Adele, was the most beautiful woman Jameson had ever met. She was the only thing that ever mattered to him. When Adele died in an apparent suicide, Jameson knew the truth immediately when he saw her black socks.
Echoes rumored in the shadows that the hit was carried out by none other than Damien, the Devil's earth born son who was out to prove his worth to daddy. Damien was so arrogant, he thought he was untouchable, or that no one had the balls to touch him. But, he didn't take Jameson's love for Adele into account. "He may have been the easiest one," Jameson muttered.
Of course, the Devil was infuriated and put a hit on Jameson. "Good luck," Jameson said as he entered his house, dodging all shadows, before the sun went down. His white clothes shone brilliantly in his overly-well lit house.