Entry T1: The Stairs

I don’t like it when people are hurt and lives are lost. I never did. It is unpleasant to look at. The others have never shared this view, but pain and death have always felt fundamentally wrong to me. Many humans would claim the same. But when someone they dislike comes into the picture, their tunes quickly change.

Daniel ‘Thunderstep’ Grace would disagree with me for another reason. He first caught my attention when he was on a mission on behalf of his boss, a bald man nicknamed ‘Grand Dagger’.

Daniel had been the mob boss’s executioner for years now. Despite his large build, he was an expert at hiding in plain sight, contrary to his nickname; his skills truly shone when he helped Grand Dagger on low-profile missions, when the boss couldn’t afford to capture any eyes.

This time, his task was simple: to silence an informant named Isaac before he could testify in court two weeks later.

As with any of his other jobs, Daniel would first survey the area around the target’s apartment. The location was a quiet urban street, far from the discordant state of the busier areas.

He immediately noticed a suspicious sedan parked at the curb near Isaac’s building. To him, it was so clearly the bare-bones security detail assigned to the key witness, sloppy of them to be this obvious. Or perhaps it might have been a warning? Calculations ran through Daniel’s mind. It wouldn’t matter, because there would always be a way to lure bodyguards away. Warm pride floated to his chest just by thinking about his past achievements.

I had no doubt that Daniel would succeed in his task should I not interfere. So, I only had one and a half… no… one week’s time. Or a murder would take place. Traces of pain aggregated just by me thinking about that dreadful consequence. I couldn’t do anything too direct. My best course of action would be to dissuade and obstruct him.

“Isaac lent money for my son’s college tuition, with no interest! He said to pay him back whenever we can.” One middle-aged housewife released this snippet of information to another, conveniently within earshot of Daniel.

If only the hit could be called off this easily, Daniel wasn’t fazed at all by this information. He barely registered it in his mind. His focus split between the weathered walls of the structures, which looked like maintenance was due years ago. A foul smell of trash was trapped in the street, looming as a deterrent for outsiders, those who hadn’t grown accustomed to the air. There was another decayed complex dwelling across Isaac’s abode, a perfect site to observe the prey from.

It took no time at all for Daniel to access the roof of the complex. The stairs to the top weren’t locked, and with his confident strides, no one thought to question his identity. And the two people he ran into on the stairs were both geriatrics who’d rather concentrate on each precarious step down, lest they plummet off to their doom.

Daniel had noticed it already on his way up, but there were traces of garbage scattered everywhere. The roof was especially a grave offender; the place was practically a twisted flower field blooming with litter. Some pieces blended into mush; others bore their metal or glass fangs at those who would dare to intrude on their domain.

The sorry state of the location was good news for Daniel; he even breathed a sigh of relief, the tingling of joy building in his chest. It meant he could save a lot of time scouting for a spot to stalk Isaac. There wouldn’t be vagrants and certainly not other residents up here.

As if to isolate this forgotten area even more, the last stretch of the stairs near the roof lacked illumination of light bulbs; probably for a while already, the landlord had given up on the summit of this urban colossus. Daniel had to use his phone light to guide his climb.

His gaze shot from behind the roof balustrade down across, specifically at the window that Daniel supposed to be Isaac’s apartment, gleaned from the address that Grand Dagger provided. He kept his pose, as if Medusa had turned him into a statue. Until his patience bore fruit.

A friendly-looking middle-aged man poked his head out of the curtain, surveying the bland calmness outside. Daniel lowered himself so the concrete fence could cover him; fluidly, he produced a picture of Isaac from his pocket, meticulously compared the two, in the brief window when the man’s face was visible.

Confirmation lent itself to Daniel. The person matched the picture. Good news for him. Bad news for the oblivious Isaac, and also for me. I arranged for a book Isaac could engage with, general lethargy in his system, and an ominous feeling in his chest. But none could keep him from checking outside forever. I knew that much.

Location scouting was the only item on his agenda today. Once he got a sense of the place, he departed the unkempt roof.

***

That night, I didn’t forget to grant Daniel a ghastly nightmare. He was in Isaac's apartment; in fact, he became Isaac. Minding his own business at the dining table. And with a striking thud, the front door was burst open. A masked assailant, with the same large build as Daniel, charged in with a pistol.

Before Daniel, in the role of the victim, could object or beg, bullets already darted through his torso, blood squirting, and I made sure to emphasize the pain and fear to him, as much as these feelings could be felt inside the vague landscape of a dream.

The unpleasantness didn’t last long, as Daniel’s body jolted awake from the stimulation. He instantly got the fictional nature of his unsettling experience. But the chilling sweat stains at the back of his tank top, the jittery muscle, the shivering heart, all paraded the clear hold that false reality had on him. Unconsciously, he reached for the crucifix necklace around his neck, clutching it so forcefully that the metal dug into his skin.

He went for a glass of water, enjoying each sip while allowing himself to sink into the olive green beanbag chair, so comfortable that he could resume his sleep here. Free from judgment. The privilege of living alone. These nuggets of amusing ideas set him onto a garden of thoughts, but not the ethical one I wanted him to travel on; instead, his attention froze on a framed picture stuck on his fridge: a family photo of him, a woman, and a child.

The horrific imagery from minutes ago faded, as a warmth drove off the terror I instilled in him. Isaac was barely on his mind. The only emotion left was anticipation for Sunday, and the only thought was a silent prayer to his God.

***

At 6 am sharp the next day, Daniel got to Isaac’s neighborhood just as the sun barely had its presence known to the world. The ominous car still lurked right under Isaac’s apartment, giving Daniel near-certainty that it belonged to bodyguards. He didn’t dare approach it; better if he didn’t have to deal with law enforcement in the entirety of the job. Content with a quiet corner of the street he chose, shrouded in the shadow cast by a steady oak trunk, he waited.

Isaac’s routine was so bland that even unemployment would be more interesting. He left his house at around 7:30, dashing down the exterior emergency stairs even though he was in no rush, and weaved through the city landscape to get to his office two blocks away.

Daniel followed him, no hesitation there; he had to learn his target’s habits to find the best opportunity to act. Faking a robbery would be ideal, but there wasn’t a spot on Isaac’s route to work that would be inconspicuous enough. He might have to stick to sniping him from the roof. A point of relief came from the fact that no bodyguards were trailing behind Isaac. It was one less thing to worry about, and he silently scoffed at the laziness of those self-proclaimed allies of justice.

Daniel noted something strange. He was certain that the apartment building had an elevator. The fact that no other residents used that exposed set of stairs confirmed it. They exited through the front door, as one would expect. Only Isaac was different. Even as he returned home, exhausted from a full day of work, he had to trudge his way up that metal skeleton.

The curiosity was quickly snuffed out. It wasn’t Daniel’s style to ask unnecessary questions. He only had to do what he was asked to do. Any excess would only jeopardize his mission. And so, for the rest of the week, Daniel repeated the same pattern of stalking his prey until he had completely familiarized himself with Isaac’s every action.

Meanwhile, I doubled all the warnings I could give him. The darkest crows I called from nearby, he didn’t even notice them.

A cold and terrible diarrhea, he solved through simple medication.

I caused the unmarked rifle he got from a dealer to misfire, almost hitting his crotch; he brushed it off with a laugh.

I let the weather worsen and the rain pour, but he acted like he didn’t even notice it.

Of course, I kept up his night frights. Unfortunately, those simulations of death only seemed to desensitize him, dispelling the remaining traces of his doubt and guilt.

***

Sunday came, and it meant I had only one day left until the fateful Monday when Daniel planned to kill Isaac. Unlike the rest of the week, Daniel didn’t set off to spy on Isaac, but rather, he dressed up in his nicest suit and combed his hair with precise sweeps. His destination: a humble church ten bus stops away from his apartment.

Into the chilling interior of the hall, Daniel wondered why he hadn’t thought to bring a coat, but a little cold wouldn’t deter him from his goal. His eyes searched through the chattering congregants, until his gaze landed on a woman and a young boy standing at the side, backs facing him.

His stride tense and quick, almost a run if not for respect to the divine air. Hand outreach, sliding to the woman’s shoulder.

Contact. The woman jumped at the sudden touch. She turned around and… a look of recognition. And without a word, she leaned in for a kiss. It was a long kiss. The two broke apart as their child tugged on Daniel’s jacket.

“Dad, you’re late,” the child said with a pout.

Daniel smiled, an expression I witnessed every time he emerged victorious from the struggle with the nightmares. “Josh, did you listen to Mom?”

His son, Joshua, returned a radiant grin. A confirmation that didn’t require any words.

Daniel settled down on a nearby seat, inviting his child and his wife to join him. The scene was ordinary to the teeth. If only he would give up killing Isaac, then he could enjoy more of these moments; he wouldn’t have to pretend to go on business trips, and his second apartment wouldn’t have to exist.

I sat as an observer of the liturgy, as if they were worshipping me. But their wishes fell flat, as all I cared about was changing Daniel. I had no interest in granting the people here the hedonism and vanity they desired.

“You shall not murder…” That was part of the Bible verse the priest spoke of today. Daniel didn’t respond. It wasn’t just an act, because he didn’t register the irony in his thoughts. Instead, he was repeating a pious chant in his heart, “My Lord. Please grant me strength and luck to complete my task tomorrow, so I can ask the boss for a vacation with my family.”

I responded with an ultimate maneuver: triggering the fire alarm through a littered cigarette at just the wrong place. The wail of the mechanism punctured the holy ceremony, breaking the flow of worship. People ran, with a semblance of order, barely holding back their unease and fear.

Joshua tripped during the evacuation. This simple motion was unremarkable in the grand scheme of things; the kid helped himself back up soon after. But Daniel’s heart jumped then and there as a helpless spectator to the agonizing fall. More startled than the nightmares could reach. I couldn’t express how similar a feeling had lingered in me for days.

***

The night before judgment day, I crafted a variation of the assassination scenario repeated in Daniel’s dream. He took the role of the sniper this time, instead of the victim. In Isaac’s place, I swapped in the tinier figure. Following what he planned, Daniel stood on the roof he had picked out as his hunting ground, rifle ready. And with precision and focus, he snuffed his son’s life away.

The lifeless body of Joshua lay on the apartment floor, blood pooling, and despite the distance, I forced Daniel to take in every detail of the murder. His son’s lifeless, open eyes, filled with regret and potential. Muscles that would soon lose their flexibility. A still chest, lacking signs of breath.

When I was sure the image was firmly etched in his memory, a shock sent him back to wakefulness. The terror was tripled compared to the past nightmares, so was his dilapidated gasping; panic exploded out of each breath.

He hurried to pour himself water with trembling hands, spilling most of it. Dropping onto the beanbag chair, the glass almost slipped out of his grip. He choked with each tiny sip, while his mind raced for thoughts that could soothe him. Images of his family were tainted by the brutal dream. He needed an alternative; contemplation of death finally floated to his consciousness, but not the existential questions that I had hoped would alter his path.

Lord, protect my son Joshua. Please let him have a good life. Please don’t take him from me. I pay taxes even when I could easily evade them. I’m hardworking, a loving father and husband. I follow your words and commandments to the heart. I strive to live my life with love. Please give me a sign. What should his humble servant do to secure his family’s future?

He went on and on; this rant gave me an inexplicable feeling. It wasn’t contempt, because it was utterly painful. It wasn’t pity; there was an element of rage. It wasn’t resignation; hope still stirred.

Daniel had a pleasant rest during the remaining span of the night. No more terrors that haunted him. It seemed like they were reflected to me.

***

Daniel got to his ‘workplace’ early the next day. Rifle hidden in a guitar case, and with ragged outfits that screamed musician. He avoided any suspicion, certain that any of the agents guarding Isaac wouldn't notice. Indeed, the abandoned vehicle was still gathering dust there. Still empty, as it always had been. Still enriched by Daniel’s imagination.

The staircase remained unlocked, with the last distance from the top dipped in the dark as always. The roof was as polluted as it was on his first trip here, only that the passing rain added a coat of reflective glint. Daniel trod with vigilant steps, avoiding the land mines of trash.

He prepared his rifle with practiced fluidity, awaiting the moment Isaac would appear at the window. With a face mask and sunglasses kept at the mouth of the bag, and a safe route clear in his mind, everything was in place. Still, there was a chance. A chance for a last-minute change of heart. Possibilities would stay alive until the moment he pulled the trigger.

But I couldn’t count on this slim hope.

A crow flew overhead, expelling the remnants of moldy bread it had accidentally eaten. After a slushy splat on Daniel’s head, the abhorrent smell invaded his nose, and by reflex, he jerked backwards. The slippery floor extended his momentum, and he tumbled onto a band of glass shards. The serrated edges punctured through the thin fabric of his clothes and jabbed into his skin.

Disgust and pain overflowed his mind. And a quiet voice, a stray thought that drifted by at just the right time, whispered to him to get out of here as quickly as he could. Disregard everything else. He couldn't afford another moment.

It was almost as if he were being pursued by an unknown predator. The dormant fear planted through the several nights of terror burst from its hibernation to join the fray. Not an ounce of rationality left, only the intense desire to flee.

And as he did, he plunged into the dark staircase without wielding his phone’s light, and unsurprisingly, he stumbled. Down he plummeted until he crashed headfirst at the bottom. Maybe if he had received immediate medical attention, he could have lived. But no one would stop by such a secluded place, not before Daniel’s corpse would rot and spoil.

After its discovery, I would force myself to look at his funeral, to look at the desperate pleas and cries of his wife and son. Shouts that were directed at the unjust God, at the cruel world, at the merciless fate. There wouldn’t be any answers to their cries; when his son asked when his father would come back, the silence would be my admission of guilt.

This was all hypothetical, but I couldn’t stop these future projections, as Daniel’s lifeless body lay so pathetically before me, detached from any sense of coolness.

I could have injured him enough to stop him from assassinating Isaac, but that would pose its own risks. Daniel would likely call his boss to arrange for another assassin. Such a strange death was different. Grand Dagger would tread more cautiously, easier to dissuade. Since harm and death would happen regardless, a more certain approach, although extreme, was better. Yes, this had to be better.

The others might scoff at me, criticize me for lording the moral high ground over them, when I, too, would take lives to achieve my ideals. My oh my. They literally just sneered at me. Regardless, I would never think of my practical approach as inferior to theirs. And not to mention, none of them truly cared about humankind.

But it was getting disheartening. To keep watching so many of my efforts go down the drain, those struggles to save as many humans from harm as possible. Doubts flared, and questions reared their ugly heads.

That was when I watched Isaac swish down the stairs again for another day of his work, enjoying the mere wind brushing past his face as he did so, an imagination of impossible flight. Clarity hit me, with the conviction I would repeat what I did if I were to get a second chance, even knowing failure and pointless suffering might be the most likely result.

After all, I don’t like it when people are hurt and lives are lost.