MARY JANE WILDE RIMMING HOW TO
Because of John's skill with technology, he knew how to cover his tracks.
Despite all of that, he had zero luck finding women. He was handsome, muscular with slicked back long black hair. He had an urge to kill that had only grown over time, and due to his frustrations with the lawlessness and his own sexual frustrations he could not resist the urge any longer. John had always wondered what it would feel like to take a life, and he was robbed of the opportunity to do so in the military. John did not just want to fuck the prostitute. That wasn't the reason his heart was fluttering, however. She had enthusiastically agreed, and said she would meet him after he got off work. But, earlier in the day on his break the temptation of her sexy figure was too much to bear and he slipped her a note, telling him to meet him out back of the mall close to the freight entrance. His heart fluttered at the thought of talking to her. Day after day, month after month she stood there, taunting him. You see, John had his eyes on one prostitute. He had long resisted using their services, but he was at the point where he didn't care anymore. Not only did he get to watch helpless as people did drugs, kill each other with no repercussions and steal whatever they wanted, he also watched the prostitutes in the area become emboldened with no law enforcement to stop them from practicing the world's oldest profession. Why should he continue to put his life in danger every day for a company that would have his position filled before his body cooled? He was about to say fuck it all.
John was fed up with his job, the lack of lawlessness and the rampant crimes. Not only did he not get to see combat, but they made him oversee other people fighting in combat zones while he just watched helplessly.
John displayed remarkable computer skills, and so the military pulled him out of infantry and gave him a computer technician job in the states. He was promised that he would see combat on the front lines. During his career in the military, they had trained him to be a killing machine. He was also a veteran of the United States Army. John was not only a security guard, however. John had even got word that due to safety reasons, he was no longer allowed to stop people from stealing. There were even disappearances of prostitutes that had gone completely uninvestigated. Every single case had gone cold, and they stopped asking questions. The police had all but abandoned the district, and didn't even come except to clean up the bodies and shell casings if there happened to be a murder. John was not allowed to carry a firearm on his person, he was only allowed to carry pepper spray and a radio. Unfortunately for him, his employer had tied his hands when it came to protecting the very place he was employed to protect. Beautiful works of art and feats of engineering were now vandalized with graffiti and bullet holes from rival gang shootouts. He lived in Portland, Oregon, and had seen firsthand the downfall of the once bustling and beautiful city. At 26 years old, he had the unfortunate job of being a security guard at a sketchy, crime ridden mall in a dangerous part of town. If you would like to be featured in the next story, let me know! ~~~~~~~~~~ John paced anxiously as the end of his work shift grew ever closer. This story received writing credits as well as the use of likeness from as well as permission was granted to use her pictures for illustration. If you are sensitive to those topics, maybe skip this one. This story depicts sexual violence, strangulation and murder in graphic detail. I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT CONDONE AND WHOLEHEARTEDLY CONDEMN REAL LIFE VIOLENCE. The Assassin Chronicles: Murderous Origin~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note: this is a work of purely fiction/fantasy.
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