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Right and wrong? It’s all about perspective. What’s wrong to one person might be the only choice for another. And what looks like the right thing might just be selfishness in disguise.
Is a crime still a crime when there’s no other choice? Or is it just survival in a world that doesn’t give you any other option?
"Lend me a cigar," the bearded man grunted.
"Yeah. Here," Silas replied.
"I heard you’ve got a job today. Why are you wasting your time here? Be better if you spent that time studying your target than chilling out here," the man said.
"Eh? Since when do you care about my business, old man? Besides, the target's an easy catch," Silas shot back.
"Easy catch my ass. Look at your body, you idiot. So many gunshot scars. How many times you messed up a job after finishing it?" the old man replied.
"I don’t know, but one thing’s for sure, it takes pain to grow, old man," Silas said with a shrug.
"Fuck that. It only takes one bullet to end you, Silas. One shot to the head, and poof, you’re done," the old man laughed.
"Yeah, whatever. I’m out, old man. Hope you sleep well tonight," Silas said, turning and waving over his shoulder as he walked away.
"Tsk. We better drink tomorrow with that prize money of yours," the old man yelled after him.
But then...
They say every path has a choice—you can stain your hands with blood or keep them clean. It’s up to you.
But when you don’t have any options left? That’s different, isn’t it?
Silas grew up in an orphanage run by gangsters. He was left there as a baby by some unknown guy. But at the age of 17 they told him that he had to leave. And by leave, they meant they had him work for them. They said he owed them 16 years of his life.
That’s what the orphanage was really for—using the kids to work for the gang once they were old enough.
Silas had two choices: work his ass off for 16 years, and maybe—just maybe—he’d get to leave. Or run, and get killed.
So yeah, he had to work. His entire life was tied to the gang.
At first, he was just a delivery guy, hauling stuff from the gang to their clients. But as the gang grew, they started doing bigger and dirtier jobs for bigger money.
Contract killings. Human trafficking. Drug dealing. Anything that made cash.
But then Silas grew as a hitman, he wasn’t so skilled but he managed to killed a bunch. A bunch of pawns, criminals, strangers.
Now, he is on his way to kill another human being again.
Crreeeak...
“It’s your turn, Blacktide,” Silas said, his eyes on the sniper.
After double-checking his gear, he moved up to the 6th floor, making sure to get into position for the perfect shot.
Thud... thud... thud...
A sound of footsteps echoed heading towards Silas location.
Silas gripped his pistol tightly, just in case someone tried to screw up the job.
Click... creak...
He raised his pistol, aiming straight at the door.
“Hey!"
"Drop it, Silas, I’m not an enemy,” a fat man called out.
“I’m just here to tell you the target’s on his way,” the man added.
“Yeah, I know. I can see him. Now get out,” Silas replied, shoving the man aside and slamming the door shut with a bang.
Silas set up the sniper rifle near the window. The angle was perfect—hidden, but with a clear shot.
He checked the time.
Tick... tick... tick...
7:25 PM.
“Huh, five more minutes,” he muttered, clicking his tongue.
Tick... tick...
Silas walked over to the radio and hit the power button.
“Welcome back to K-Edge Radio. Tonight, we’ve got a track that’s perfect for the night!”
I’m now sitting here, and it’s 11 PM,
Got my pizza in my hand, I’m feeling zen.
I hear a noise, I turn around,
It’s my dog staring at me with a hungry frown.
“The hell is this?” Silas muttered, his face stone-cold as he clicked the off button.
He moved toward the window, eyes locking onto the target.
The target was a businessman who made a living by scamming his partners. A 45-year-old guy with a wife, no kids, but plenty of mistresses. He was out celebrating a new business venture at some public event. Perfect for a sniper shot.
“He’s good at scamming people and making money, but this is checkmate,” Silas said, watching the target greet some guests.
Silas double-checked his sniper position, adjusting a few small details that could ruin the shot.
Then it was time. 7:30 PM.
The target started his speech.
“Good evening! I’m surprised by the turnout here to witness the grand opening of my new business... with a new partner, of course—Mr. Giotto.” The businessman pointed to a man sitting in the front.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve launched new business, but now a new venture will be opened to the public. And for a good cause—Mr. Giotto and I agreed that the first day's income will be donated to a charity for children!” He beamed with pride.
The crowd cheered, clapped, and shouted their praise.
“Now, allow me to introduce you all to our new venture! The St—”
BANG!
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
CRACK... SPLAT.
Panic erupted. The crowd scattered in every direction, screaming as they ran.
"I'm done here," Silas said.
CRACK!
“No, you’re not.”
A girl appeared out of nowhere, slamming a gun into Silas’s head.
It went black. Everything turned black. Silas passed out from the blow. When he opened his eyes, he was inside a white room, a table and a single chair. There was a transparent window, so people on the outside could see him.
Silas found himself tied to the chair. He struggled to open his eyes, trying to work his hands free from the rope.
“It’s all useless.” said a woman that appeared.
The woman walked over and stopped when she reached the other side of the table, right in front of him.
She had black hair, tattoos all over her neck, and wore a suit.
“I congratulate you on killing your target!” she said, excitement in her voice.
“...That is, if he’s really your target,” she added, her face now serious.
Silas' head dropped to the floor, but when he heard what she said, he snapped his head up to look at her.
A minute later, a man appeared outside, and Silas saw him through the window. It was his target—the businessman—alive and breathing. Silas’ eyes went wide, but then he smirked and let out a quiet laugh.
“Now that’s a failed hitman right there,” the woman said.
Silas didn’t respond, his head still down, ignoring both the woman and the businessman.
The woman grabbed his chin and lifted his face up.
“You’ve got a pretty face, huh? What if we skinned it off?” she said, a playful tone in her voice.
“Yeah, do it,” Silas said flatly.
“Huh?? Hahaha, you sure about that?” she laughed.
“I don’t like repeating myself, so just do it,” Silas replied, his voice cold.
“Nah, we’ll save that for later. Now I’m gonna ask you a question, and I want just one answer. Who ordered you to go through with this hit?” she said, pulling a knife from her pocket.
Silas stayed quiet, thinking. Either way, telling them or not, he figured he was dead.
“Alright, I surrender. I’ll tell you,” Silas said, breaking the silence, his face serious.
“That’s more like it. Who knows? I might reward you if you make this quick,” the woman said, grabbing his legs in a flirty way.
“Yeah? But I know you’re gonna kill me anyway, whether I tell you or not,” Silas said, staring her down.
“You’re right about that. But I’ll give you one last request, before you tell me who ordered the hit... and die by my hands,” she said.
“Then... can I ask for a kiss?” Silas said, his face dead serious.
“What the fuck?” she said, surprised, blushing.
“So you’re a perverted hitman after all, huh?” she laughed.
The woman bent her head close to Silas' face and kissed him on the cheek. Then Silas whispered, “ It’s the C*ck Suckers gang who ordered me.” Silas chuckled.
Shiiink!
The woman slashed one of Silas’s fingers with the knife. “Take this seriously, you fucker!”
“You’ve got one hell of a sharp knife there,” Silas grunted, feeling the pain of losing a finger.
“Your neck’s next if you keep talking shit,” she snapped, her anger obvious.
“Just kill me already,” Silas said, his voice low.
The businessman outside signaled for the woman to begin the torture.
“Alright, let’s start by skinning your damn legs.”
"I’ll be starting with your legs and working my way up to your head,” the woman said, her voice cold.
AAARRRGH!!
It went on for 30 minutes, peeling the skin off Silas’s legs. It was brutal, but he stayed conscious through it all. Another 20 minutes passed, and they continued. His screams filled the room, but the businessman couldn’t care less, too disgusted to watch the gruesome scene.
AARRRGH!!!
Despite the pain flooding his body, Silas sat still, barely able to think clearly, his groans barely audible. He couldn’t help but wonder, when did everything go wrong? Was it when he failed the mission and killed a decoy instead of the target?
Was it because he was abandoned at that orphanage, a place run by gangsters? Or was it when the gang started getting into dirtier business?
His whole life had been a series of forced choices, treated like a pawn to be used and discarded. Yet, he couldn’t shake the fact that the orphanage was the only reason he was still alive. He owed them something.
He could easily spill the gang’s name, tell them everything, but he didn’t. That would put the orphanage at risk. His friends in the gang would suffer. He hated the gang, but part of him couldn’t hate it entirely.
"I’m not... telling you anything. Just... get it over with," Silas muttered, his voice strained.
Five hours. That’s how long they’d been at it. Skinning him. The only thing left now was his head. The businessman signaled the woman to finish him off.
"Right, I’d love to keep skinning you, but the contractor seems to get an intel about which organization hired you. Enjoy yourself in hell."
Bang!!
And then, it hit him. A flash. A lesson learned from all the pain. Life and death? They’re not some big mystery. They’re part of the same cycle. We’re born, we live, and eventually, we die. No drama. No deep meaning. It just is.
People try to make it bigger than it is, but in the end, death doesn’t care about our dreams, our plans. It doesn’t matter if you’re ready or not. It’s final. Simple.
And life? It’s messy. No rulebook. You make mistakes. You fall. You get up. You keep moving. It’s not about finding some grand purpose. It’s about living through the chaos, even when it doesn’t make sense.
Silas died smiling.
But it wasn’t the end.
"hey! Wake up, dumbass!" A voice echoed out of nowhere.
Silas blinked, groaning. Everything around him was blindingly white. No walls, no floor, no sky—just white.
"Am I... in heaven?" Silas muttered, confused.
"You? In heaven? Don’t flatter yourself," the voice snapped.
Silas frowned. He looked around but couldn’t see anyone. Just the voice echoing in the endless white void.
"Alright, listen up. You’re not in heaven or hell. You’re in... let’s call it the waiting room. You’re here for a second chance."
"Second chance? What the hell is this, some kind of scam?" Silas said, crossing his arms.
"No scam. You’re dead, genius. What’s standing here now is just your soul."
Silas glanced down at himself and froze. The voice wasn’t lying—his body was indeed just a soul.
"Now let’s just talk about the deal," the voice said. "This contract I’m offering you? It’ll let you go back to life. But there’s a catch."
"You’ll need to use this second chance to hunt down and kill big-time criminals. The kind of scum that threatens humanity itself. You get to live again, but only if you play by the rules."
Silas said nothing, his mind spinning. It wasn’t like he had much choice, but the whole thing still felt... off.
"Now, I’ll throw in a little cheat for you. Look to your right. Do you see the arrow?"
"Arrow?"
"Now click it." The voice commanded.
He clicked it and a game like screen appeared.
[Silas Santoro]
Age: 32 Years Old
XP: 0
Skills already learned:
Basics of Self Defense
Basic pistol training
Basic knife skill
Sniping
"That right there is your profile. It shows all the skills you’ve unlocked. The XP part works like a game—you earn it by completing missions, taking out specific targets, overcoming challenges, and so on!"
"It’s like a video game, huh?" Silas finally said.
"Exactly! Think of it that way. Now, see that arrow on your left? Go ahead and click it."
Silas followed the instructions without a word.
Shop:
Current XP: 0
Martial Arts Skills: (You can only choose 3 to master)
Kickboxing
Karate
Judo
Boxing
Taekwondo
Wrestling
Muay Thai
Krav Maga
Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu
Wing Chun
Aikido
Sambo
Jeet Kune Do
Dim Mak
Capoeira
Weapon Skills: (You can only choose 3 to master)
(Choosing to master a weapon increased precision)
Revolver
Pistol
Sniper Rifle
Shotgun
Dual Daggers
Katana
Throwing Knives
"That’s the shop menu. You can buy skills here, but remember—you’ll need XP to unlock anything."
"Now, I just need you to sign the contract, and you’ll regress."
In Silas’s mind, it was the same old thing—back to killing, back to being someone’s dog. But at the same time, the thought of becoming stronger and more independent lingered.
"Hey, what if I just decided to screw the mission? Run off, live my life, and use this cheat for myself?"
"You could," the voice replied casually. "But take a look at the timer at the bottom of the screen."
Lifetime: 10 days.
"Right here?" Silas pointed.
"Yes."
"So, it's like a timer for completing missions?" Silas asked.
"No, nothing like that," the voice replied. "There’s no deadline for killing. That timer is for your own life. It tracks how much time you have left. You can extend it by earning XP. The more you earn, the more days you can add. But there’s a cap—80 years max."
"So, I just need to earn enough XP to add time to my life? And I can live up to 80?"
"Yeah, if you can survive long enough to see that," the voice answered. "You can also check that in the Shop menu. Click it again."
Shop:
Purchase Time:
Add 5 days (20 XP)
Add 10 days (30 XP)
Add 20 days (50 XP)
Add 30 days (60 XP)
Add 50 days (80 XP)
Add 100 days (120 XP)
Add 500 days (350 XP)
"And as the cheat updates, you can unlock more options," the voice added.
Silas nodded, processing the information. "Yeah, I get it now. Thanks for explaining. Can I sign the contract now?"
"Yup! Here!"
[The voice wish to form a contract with you will you agree]
[Yes] or [no]
Silas clicked the "Yes" button, and instantly, 10 XP points were added to his profile.
"Woah, that's a nice bonus for signing the contract," the voice remarked. "Now, step into that blue circle and wait for a second. Once you do, poof, you'll be reborn."
"Got it," Silas muttered, walking toward the blue circle.
"Remember what I told you," the voice continued. "You can do whatever you want with your life, but make sure to earn enough XP to extend it. That way, you won't have to dodge killing criminals."
As Silas stepped into the blue circle, a blinding light enveloped him, starting from his legs and rising up to his head.
"Oh, and one more thing!" the voice called out as the light intensified. "Don’t forget—if you kill a civilian, you’ll be severely punished!"
The words were fading, becoming muffled as the light grew brighter.
"I can’t hear you!" Silas shouted, but it was no use. The light consumed him, and everything went silent.