Rimanoa

Welcome to the underworld

11:50 p.m. Aug. 24.

Almost all experienced professional criminals feel something before they are caught or killed, and I was no exception, so I felt… something important before I left my son. And I didn't see him off so abruptly for nothing, for I knew that if he knew I was in danger, he'd be sitting outside my doorway all night with a machine gun. And there would be more than one man after me, and not a novice, and it was unlikely that either of us would be left alive after that.

I set the alarm (my alarm system is connected to the county police department, so after a couple minutes of trespassing, I'll have a SWAT team at my house, so it's unlikely anyone will be able to escape) and went to bed without too many complications (not everyone goes to bed feeling very threatened).

After a couple hours of sleeplessness, I heard a thud from down the hallway, and then footsteps, so many of them that they became a rumble.

I fumbled for an F-1 grenade, specially strapped under my pillow for emergencies, and pulled the pin, holding on to the lever (when it "flies" off the main part of the grenade, it takes 3.2 to 4.2 seconds to detonate, depending on the force of the rebound).

Half a minute later, the door to the room quietly boiled open and footsteps made their way inside, and when they spread throughout the entire room, there was a light whisper: "Now, wait a minute, I'll just find out what his name is…..

I remembered my real name and said aloud, firmly and deadly: "Rimanoa was just expecting a visitor. Welcome," and then, laughing a wicked, devilish laugh, I turned on the little light bulb whose switch was located three centimeters from the sheet that covered the bed.

A dim light covered the room.

Eight people stood in front of the bed, one in front of the other. All armed to the teeth in the literal sense (one "comrade" had a key in his mouth, though it was unknown how he was going to use it).

The reaction was exactly what I expected: they hissed, staggered, trembled, just like all the other 156 people being taken to me for execution, realizing that Rimanoa was the "Executioner". Their eyes completely deepened in panic, and spoke of the rest of their bodies being unable to take any action. The rookie killers realized that in front of them stood not just a very experienced killer capable of shooting them all without much difficulty, not just an iron authority in the underworld, but death itself, just waiting to kiss someone else.

I carefully pulled my hand out from under the pillow and tossed the grenade at the feet of the nearest "Faust hunter" to spare them the agony…