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He made a mistake that fateful night when he decided to kill myfather. The one person in my family I was actually close to. My fatherwas my best friend and teacher; he was the one person I could alwaysconfide in and count on to be there for me. Anyone else wouldn’t havegiven him a second glance because he wasn’t anyone special. In thedaytime my father was an accountant for a button factory on the eastside of San Francisco. What most people didn’t know was that at nightmy father was a top grade hit man for the same people that ran thebutton factory. My fathers name was Alfonso Eberardo Salazar. Hewas Spanish, so he had dark features and a sturdy build. It wasalways my fathers dream for my brother and I to follow in hisfootsteps. More so me because I had a natural talent for killing anddefending.The last time I saw my father he was fighting with my brother.My brother, Diego Lucas Salazar, was always the rebellious one. Diegobeing the older one of us thought that he should be the first one to beinitiated into the organization, but my father wouldn’t have any of it.My father said, “You will not be initiated until you can learn to controlthat temper of yours and learn not to let your emotions get in theway.”  “You can’t do this! I am the oldest one! I should be the first oneinitiated!” My brother responded. “You should be, but you’re not! Your head is too hot! Now, I have hadenough of this foolishness! This is the end of the discussion. You willleave.” After hearing this my brother proceeded to walk out of theroom fists clenched in a screaming fit of rage. My father then turnedto me and said, “You will be initiated this Friday evening. I am proudof you Fabricio.” Not only was that the last night I saw my father, but my brotherwas nowhere to be found. Come Friday evening and I was initiated.My father was out with a list of people to kill, but I knew he was proudof me. I went with one of the other top grade hitmen in theorganization and killed my first victim. He taught me everything heknew. He told me it was up to me on how they were to be killed, butone thing is for sure. At the end of the night they were to be nothingelse, but dead. And, dead they were. Every night for the next fewdays I killed one by one not knowing why they were to be killed andnot really caring why either. I killed every one of my victims withcallousness and precision. No one got away once they were on my list,or any hitmans list for that matter.It was around one in the morning on a Tuesday when I got back
 
to headquarters that night. There wasn’t a single person who wouldlook me in the eye. I walk up to my friend Rodolphoe and ask himwhat’s going on. He wouldn’t even open his mouth to tell meanything. He just stared at me with this sadness in his eyes. I knewsomething horrible must have happened if the normally talkativeRodolphoe wouldn’t even say a word. I turned around when I felt atap on my shoulder. It was Trent, Mr. Craime’s right-hand man, hesays, “Mr. Craime would like to see you in his office immediately.” Andwalks off.Mr. Craime is the head of the organization, so it usually didn’tmean anything good if you got called into his office. The only time youget called into Mr. Craime’s office is if you have royally fucked thingsup or if you’re to be promoted to a higher position. Hardly anyone inthis organization gets promoted. Not like I would anyways. I wasinitiated not even a week ago. I give Rodolphoe one last look before Imake my way to Mr. Craime’s office. As I step into his office he looksup at me and tells me to take a seat. Once I am seated he looks atme and says, “Fabricio, I have some rather bad news. At midnighttonight your father was killed while in the middle of finishing his hitlist.” I just stare at him. I’m not crying and I’m not doing anything,but sitting there as solid as a rock. Whether I was sitting in disbelief or shock that my father was actually dead I did not know. After sometime of just sitting I finally find my voice and ask, “How did he die?”  “His throat was split and there was a bullet in his heart.”  “At least it was quick.” I respond, “Do you know who killed him?”  “I do. This is the guy” He says while showing me a picture of a guywho I know almost as well as the back of my own hand. A guy who Inever would have imagined could do such a heinous act. This guy haddark features and a mediocre build. He wasn’t buff, but he wasn’tscrawny either. “No, surely it must have been someone else.” I whisper in disbelief. “No, it was him. We’re sure of it. I wouldn’t have told you otherwise.”  “May I leave?” I ask. I want nothing more then to just get out of thatroom and think for a while. Get my thoughts organized.
 
 “You may.” Mr. Craime says dismissing me.I get up and let myself out of the office, and I don’t stop walkinguntil I have hit the roof top of the building where headquarters islocated. I was sitting on the edge of the building for a few hoursbefore I decide to talk to the person who was standing at the doorwaystaring at me the entire time. “I’m not suicidal, so you can quit watching me like a hawk that justfound dinner.” I tell the person, and then turn around, “Rodolphoe.”  “How did you know I was here?” He questions as he comes and takesa seat next to me on the edge of the building. “I could feel your eyes on me. It’s a rather creepy feeling.” I reply.He chuckles lightly and says, “Well, I just wanted to make sure youwere okay.”  “I’m fine thanks.”  “So, did Craime tell you who your fathers killer was?”  “Yes.” I answer shortly. “Good, so what are you going to do about it?” he questions knowingfull well the entire time I was sitting up here I was trying to cook upsome kind of plan. “What do you think? I’m going to seek my revenge.” I tell him. I thenget up and start walking towards the door until I hear him yelling atme. “If you need any help let me know!” I just give him a quick salute of the fingers as I continue to walk towards the door leading back insidethe building.For the next two weeks I followed my fathers killer closelywatching his every move. I knew of a few things he habitually did, likethat fact that every Tuesday he ate lunch with his Grandmother. Also,every Sunday he attended the early morning church service. Whatcame as a surprise were his Friday night habits. He would start theevening off with a peaceful dinner at his apartment. From there hewent to a local club called The Flamingo. Thirty minutes till midnight
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