A Tale of Two Worlds

As he walked down the cold, dark alley, he looked around, wary of his surroundings. Who knew what could happen? Who knew what dangers lurked ahead? Hands buried deep within his trench coat pockets and a hat riding low over his eyes, he looked like one of those typical, good for nothing, shady characters stalking the streets in search of new prey. But that was just an illusion. That was what he wanted them to believe, that he was one of them. In fact, he was the good guy. The protector. Their savior. He was the reason people slept soundly at night. He was trained. Trained in a set of elect skills that made him a nightmare for evildoers around the world. Tonight, he was on a mission…

Igor Karkarovsky reclined in his imported Russian leather armchair and lit his $1000 Cuban cigar. For a person who had just signed a billion dollar deal, he looked extremely calm, composed. After all, what does a multibillionaire underworld kingpin have to worry about? What indeed? Igor sighed in pleasure as he savoured the smoke and the flavour…

Slowly walking towards his goal, resolute, he wonders what lies ahead of him today. Never, in all his life, has he been apprehensive before a mission. He has never felt the need to. The invincible know no fear.

Even though he is surrounded by henchmen, people who are armed to the teeth and have made protection their profession, Igor does not feel safe. For although he is protected from external threat, who can save him from the ghosts of his past? In his line of work, he has made few friends and gathered loads of enemies. He cannot afford to have relationships, bonds of trust, faith. It is impossible to be friends with a person one second and shoot him in the head the next…

As silent as the shadow, he creeps towards his target. Of all the criminals he’s captured, this one might prove to be the biggest fish to catch. Months of searching and waiting has finally paid off. Tonight might be the only chance he might get to catch the most notorious criminal to roam the streets since Al Capone himself. He was known as König, the King. But he knew better. His real name was Igor, and he was in town tonight to seal a billion dollar deal with the local mafia. It might be his only chance…

As he sat and waited for a call from the mafia leader, his ruthless eyes hide the true feelings flashing through his mind. His early childhood had been pretty uneventful. He came from an unexceptional, normal family and lived in a normal, unexceptional suburb. He reminisced, those days under the sun, playing, running in their backyard with his little brother. Enjoying those days of innocence and ignorance. He had all he wanted. Until the day his parents divorced. Everything went haywire in his life. His Mom got him while his Dad was given custody of his brother in a bitter court battle. He was banned from contacting his own flesh and blood twin…

The silent savior walks to a corner of the alley and sits down on a rock to wait. He would wait for the right moment, the right moment to strike and kill. To him, this was more than just an effort to catch one of the most notorious gangsters in the world. This was a personal vendetta. A revenge. Revenge against the person who had slaughtered his Dad, who had no fault than being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Igor had drawn first blood and now he would pay. Pay with his life. All he had had was his Dad. He had never remembered much of his Mother and there were no pictures or any other memories to speak of that held proof of her existence. All he knew was that his parents had separated before he had turned five.

From then on, Igor’s life went downhill. Drugs, cars, shoplifting and even murder were added to his long list of vices and crime. He found solace in these indulgences. Found a part of the life he had lost. He thought he had power, control and authority. Slowly but surely, he established himself as the König, their King. He enjoyed his newfound authority and respect. But behind that mask lay a man who felt nothing but remorse…

Just as the clock struck one, he shook himself from his reverie. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. He was on a mission, after all. As he extracted a B-22 hand grenade from within his trenchcoat’s arsenal of weapons, he followed his usual ritual, something he always did before a raid. Taking out a picture of his Dad, he kissed it, whispering, “For You, Dad…”.

“We have spotted an Alpha! All to positions! ”, screamed the head of security, the person responsible for Igor’s security. The König must not be compromised, no matter what. After all, wasn’t that why he was drawing his hefty salary of a million per month??

Without a second’s hesitation, he pulled the pin and threw his state-of-the-art grenade with calculated skill and speed. He did not need to look to see that it had found its mark. With a resounding BOOM! All fifteen of the elite guards were razed to the ground, blown to smithereens, leaving the path clear to Igor’s sanctum sanctorum. The Shadow breathed in the night air deeply before he strode forward, fingers curled tightly around his Beretta.

With a crash, Igor was brought back down to earth. He had heard the blast outside and for a second, fear clutched his heart. Then reality set in and he leaned forward to grab the Kalashnikov lying on the table. He never thought he’d need to use it. At least, not for self defense. He usually had people to do that for him. Around him, his henchmen snapped to fighting stances. This was the moment they had prepared for their whole lives. This was the reason for their existence. They were prepared, weapons at the ready.

Killing five of Igor’s guards was not at all a problem. They were no match for his superior skill and practiced precision. He was The Shadow, an unstoppable blur of guns, knives and hands. He was unparalleled, fuelled by a thirst for revenge. As his eyes scanned the now lifeless corridors, he found the door he was looking for. What lay behind them was no mystery to him.

With a thud, he kicked down the door, only to be faced by Igor’s elite henchmen, all surrounding the man they were supposed to be protecting, the man who had taken his Dad’s life. The man who was the reason for all that was happening to him today. As he took in this scene, he let loose a volley of bullets from his semi-automatic, promptly getting rid of the nearest two guards. They never had time to react. Lunging towards the nearest bookshelf, he had a split second look into Igor’s ruthless eyes. He realized he was numb. Numb with pain, emotions, hatred. With a swish, he launched his poisoned darts and the nearest guard who promptly dropped dead. Curare was a potent poison. Dodging the barrage of bullets, he leapt behind the nearest table and let loose a few rounds from his Beretta, promptly disposing off the rest of the guards. Then, throwing his knife at Igor, he incapacitated him, making it impossible for him to hold his gun. And now…

Igor lay on the floor, spent… His last hope at freedom, his final bid to save his life had been futile. He tried to get up and run, but was immediately brought down to the ground by a well-thrown nunchuk to his heels. It was finally over. All his past sins had finally caught up to him. He could run, but could not hide. Not anymore.

His mind was devoid of all emotions. Just emptiness. A shell.

At last, thought Chekhov. At last I shall have my revenge. He shall pay for all he has done. At last…

With slow, calculated steps, he walked towards Igor, gun raised and pointed right at his temple. With an almost languid air, he extracted the photo of his father, the man who had been his life. “This is why you had died, Dad. It was him.”, said Chekhov. “And this is why even you shall die tonight.” he said to Igor, slowly turning the picture towards him. Just as he pressed the trigger, he had just enough time to register the words “BROTHER!!” before Igor slumped, quite dead, onto the floor.