By: Andrew Thomas Prenger
Okay, the plan was simple: jump through the mall’s skylight, rappel two stories down a rope then shoot a man dressed as the Easter bunny in the head. Growing up I didn’t know that at the age of 27 I would be doing jobs like this for money. Admittedly it was somewhat a waste of my skills, but rent was due in two days and this was the only job I would be able to complete in that short of time.
My clients were a wealthy, powerful couple being blackmailed by the Bunny. See, other than dressing like a giant rabbit my target also frequently dressed in a tight leather outfit and was paid to whip, flog, fuck and penetrate my clients. Willingly. Unwillingly, and unknowingly, they had been filmed and photographed. The second even one of those photos went public she would lose her position as governor and he has to say goodbye to his action movie franchise.
This wasn’t the type of job I normally took on. I’ve killed presidents, heads of state, dictators. A king or two. Hell, I’ve even offed a super hero before. That lead to his teammates breaking my legs, but it just proved that I could hold my own against people who could punch through mountains. Needless to say, capping a pervert in a fur suit was slumming. I couldn’t complain really. With the economy the way it was I was lucky to have anyone paying me to kill someone.
As a bonus my clients opted for a public kill, which I charged extra for. They wanted him to be an example. They wanted to make sure the next guy they hired to humiliate them was perfectly happy with the money they were paying him.
The Bunny got a break every hour. At that time his handlers would stop the line and escort him to an employee’s only door in the mall. I’d been staking him out all day. By now I knew that in addition to stretching out, grabbing a bite or taking a leak the Bunny was also fucking at least one of the handlers, if not both. Once they emerged from the employee’s only door with a pink thong hanging off the Bunny’s ear. One of the handlers managed to get it back and slip it into her pocket before any of the kids saw.
I checked my watch. Two minutes before his break. One of the handlers looked very anxious to close the line. Probably her turn. I double checked my gun. It was a .22 with a homemade silencer. A simple tool for a simple job. The small bullet would enter his skull and rattle around, scrambling what little brains he had. Then I would run out that same employee exit, go to the parking lot and drive away.
There was the possibility that this plan could backfire. Hurt my reputation more than help. Still, I would always have the claim that I was willing to shoot the Easter Bunny and who wouldn’t want that on their record?
The moment the handler put up the rope to close the line off I made my move. I jumped through the skylight. Glass rained all around me. I had nothing to fear. My outfit had a special fabric designed to be nearly cut proof. The moment I hit the ground all the shards slid harmlessly off me.
Compared to the bulk of my compatriots in the villain game my “costume” was utilitarian. They wore flashy suits with bright colors. The idea was to attract attention to the costume, not the person. I looked like a riot officer, my costume was functional and built to intimidate, dark colors and body armor. The helmet and mask were especially designed to strike fear. The only theatrical element on my outfit was a painted blood splatter on the front of my helmet. My symbol. It started out as a real blood splatter that I thought looked cool so I painted one on.