Jaak hated life.
   Not the act of living one’s self but the ideal behind life. To grow up, marry, have children and make the same mistakes his parents did, it wasn’t for him. To fall in love and sit around tables enjoying meals that have taken hours to prepare? No. To do the things you hate because everyone else does or says to? Not Jaak. Never.
   He hated beauty and the connotations that are associated with it. He hated the way couples held hands and everything it represented. He hated all things precious, dear, cute, warm, fuzzy and happy. He even hated his dead parents, one of which he killed himself. There was very little Jaak didn’t hate. Death was just one of those things, debauchery was another.
   Jaak loved violence. It was all he understood and lived for. The power you have over another was all that ever interested him. When growing up, he didn’t want to play with other students at Krotto-6 Primary, [Especially the non-carbon based life-forms! What do you play with?]. He couldn’t stand the stupid Holo-Plays and D-musicals; or the pathetic attempts at teaching children Venusian ethics, morals that are stripped away once they step into the real, outside world.
   The galaxy is a big place, and all sorts fester within its boundaries. Jaak knew this, he lived it and breathed it.
   For a long time Jaak hid his true feelings and let them fester deep within him. He never told a single soul of his hearts true desires [well, he was an only child and most of the servants didn’t speak Common-tongue]. He was afraid people wouldn’t understand him. He feared being alone in the world, hence, all alone one night when he was 11, he decided to make the world fear him instead. It was easier then being loved. Jaak never felt loved.
   Especially by his parents. [Boo hoo! I hear you say, but this can have a neurological effect on an insecure child like Jaak.] A strange child with rich parents, parents who spent more time chasing the dollar, then throwing a ball, well, it’s all starting to make sense. Jaak’s parents were caught up the in “Equal Rights for Infants” fad that came around in the 34th century, believing their baby could feed himself and change his own wet nappies. Jaak was jealous of, and thus hated, the ‘poor’ kids whose ‘loving parents’ would collect them after a ‘great day of school’ [thoughts expressed are Jaak’s and should not reflect on the writer], when only a Ten-Turbo limo and a new nameless driver would be waiting for him. Jaak had hated the way his parents ignored him, [which was most of the time], and never took an interest in anything he did [but how interesting could a boy who tortures frogs be? they said]. He often wondered why they had ever bothered to have a sprogling anyway?
   Most of all he hated his father. The way the old man had lied to Jaak his whole life. The way the crazy man ran his mouth [or dribbled if close enough to witness] with ridiculous predications of the end of the world and the coming of a messiah [like we all haven’t heard that one before?!]. Jaak’s mother died when he was 13; she accidentally fell into an animal cage at the Galactic Menagerie while trying to pass a Subtertian Gorilla a tissue.
   In a continuation of the lies, his father told Jaak his mother was away visiting her sister for a while even through Jaak had witnessed the death, standing mere metres away when it happen. His father never quite recovered from the shock and subsequently hid in a world of fantasy ‘ever after’. The family’s wealth was given away to various spiritual Gurus seeking a fortune from the foolish, and their servants were sold into slavery [which Jaak didn’t care about since they never listened to him anyway]. And as each day passed Jaak’s father slipped further and further into his personal madness [at least he kept it to himself, Jaak thought]. So Jaak did the only thing he knew would help his father, or more precisely the only thing he was willing to do for his father.
   He shot him
   And quickly salvaged what was left of his inheritance.
   For years Jaak told others it was a mercy killing, that he was sending his father to join his mother in the after-life world of Deavon [one of the problems faced with huge galactic expansion is that ‘heavenly places’ get shifted by nihilist religions to suit the local system’s layouts]. The people Jaak had paid to keep him company would listen as he would relate his woeful story. ‘You did the right thing’, they would say, only because he had wanted to hear it [and they were paid to say it]. One might think lowly of such a character like him, without some social support.
   Jaak liked listening to people saying what he wanted them to. To hear your words spoken in agreement, through others, pleased him immensely. To him, it represented the power he had over them.
   But in truth Jaak enjoyed killing his father [and it certainly wasn’t a merciful act, which I am sure you could all guess]. Jaak had vaporized limb after limb until his father had died, screaming, from loss of blood. A tirade of words had poured form both of their mouths during the act [a conversation they probably should have had a long time ago].
   He smiled whenever that memory surfaced. It was how it had all started for him. He would never want to turn back the clock on his first kill. It was the first time he really felt alive in his otherwise miserable life. He had proven to himself that if he could kill his own father then he could kill anyone. So Jaak made a professional decision and made the switch from being a rich loafer to an assassin.
   Now, there is no training course to become an assassin and you certainly won’t find anything advertised on the GalaxaWeb. Find one on the street then? Hmm, what do they look like? Assassins come in many different shapes and sizes, and use a multitude of techniques and methods to remaining unrevealed to average citizens. No two assassins are the same, [Jaak can certainly vouch for that] and are harder to find then honest politicians. Usually, the want to be an assassin comes from either growing up in a violent household; a war-torn environments; or even from being picked on at school [for the later, maybe the same could be said for politicians?]. Something that has pushed a person away from normal society leaving them with nothing more than an urge for inflicting pain upon others because they believe they can no longer feel pain themselves [now would be a good time to point out the difference between a politician and an assassin; is that one kills you quickly while the other slowly sucks the life out of you. You can decide which]. Then there are those who just have a natural penance towards violence, real physical violence, without any particular prior serious problems [Jaak, for example, he just likes to hurt people, but the case of being ignored could be brought into question]. Either which way, [without further distraction] none of these types of generally participate in above ground, or non-black market events, making them very hard [for a complete nobody, sorry!] to find indeed.  
   Jaak slouched around bars and back alleys hoping to fall in with the assassin crowd. It took him six months to realise there is no assassin crowd to be found as assassins generally stayed low to the ground or only appeared to kill someone. [Resisting here!] Finally a bar owner, Teek, who had a history of murder and buggery, took it on himself to give young Jaak a try, reminiscing of his wild days long ago.
   Jaak was nineteen when he killed his father but it was another five years before he made his next kill. Somehow all his hits had managed to get away from him [alive!], one way or another. Teek was patient with Jaak and kept the young man’s spirits up when the lad was down [over the fact he could barely kill an appetite].
   Teek couldn’t understand how all of Jaak’s victims got away, [especially when he was providing the training]. [Look, you’re going to have to put up with it]. The real problem was with Jaak. He wasn’t particularly fast or even strong, he was short, thin and considered himself to be a smooth talker over a fighter [shold have being a politician]. He was a horrible shot from a distance, or close up for that matter, and had never done any physical training, ever, to strengthen his body. But he was so desperate to be a hired killer regardless of the cost, he would have tried anything. Anything!
   He used to picture himself jumping into some wild fray wielding a long shiny blade, cutting down his opponents with grace long before they saw him coming. He envisioned himself waltzing [waltzing?] into a room with two six-snappers, clear the card table of baddies, steal the money, the maiden’s dress, and be out the door before the bodies hit the floor!  
   But in reality he had the snot beaten out of him by bodyguards, bouncers, dancers and even homeless people every time he took a contract. But after every beating and every failure, he would be more determined to succeed the next time [if there was a next time]. Nothing was going to get in his way. After a year of disappointments, he came up with a plan that soon gave him success like no other.
   Marlene became one of the deadliest assassins to date until her retirement and mysterious disappearance ten years ago. It was said she would lead her victims on a path of seduction and death no other assassin could offer before sending them to their graves. Her lips could kill, her fingernails could poison and her eyes brows would need to be plucked before every kill. [That was the only part he didn’t like.]
   Jaak ‘secret method’ was to simply dress as a woman for means of getting close enough to his kill without rasing suspicion. He approaching his hits with the pretence of a dance [or something else a little less appropriate] before dragging the drooling victim off. Once alone in a room or a dance floor he would slide a long knife between two ribs and into their heart. As years passed, he mastered [and could also afford] new and different techniques, some faster and less detectible, like nano-bugs, then others, slower and more painful, like nerve poisons to fulfil his contracts.
   He would gaze into his victim’s eyes as their life ebbed away, hoping he might see his hated father within them [maybe he does have problems?], waiting for him by the gates of hell [yep, if that even made sense]. For years, he could comfortably slip into his ‘Marlene’ persona as he applied his make up and wig, glazing at himself [herself?] in the mirror, knowing this is what he had always wanted. [To dress like a woman and kill people?! You can get a job doing that? Who says they are in the wrong profession!?]
   Jaak eventually did meet other assassins and hitmen. He discovered a bar were they would all frequent. You could only get in if you had a kill-ratio of over thirty people. [How many contracts it takes to fulfil this ratio does not matter, in fact, the fewer contracts-to-kill-ratio you had, the more discount at the bar you got. Example, if you killed a thousand people on a single contract, you got your drinks for free – or, as the conversation at the bar would go:

Ugly guy – I just got back from Tywu 7.
Barman – Wasn’t that planet just destroyed?
Ugly guy – Yep, and now I’m back.
Barman – Here’s your free drink, sir.

   Jaak was vouched for by Teek and was soon allowed to socialise with others of his profession. Most of the assassins had never heard of Jaak, probably because they all knew of Marlene instead and didn’t know the two were actually the same person.
   Those who did know the truth never said anything under the threat of death. Jaak soon became a familiar face in the assassin underground and was accepted by those around him. For the first time in is life, Jaak really felt like he belonged [in a crowd, not alone by himself]. He was home.
   In time, after amassing a reputation of being an excellent killer he was offered more work than he could handle. Instead of passing on the names of other assassins he would sub-let hitmen, keeping a small amount of the fee for himself. He soon realised he no longer had to kill anyone of his own accord to make money, started his agency, and contracted other hitman to serve him and his contracts only. He gave benefits no other agency offered as extra enticement [you would have to given today’s competition] and soon formed one of the galaxy’s deadliest band of hired killers.  
   Its years later now, and Jaak hasn’t personally killed anyone under a contract for eight years. Not to say he hasn’t killed people [just not for money anyway]. He didn’t need to anymore, not with the success of his galactic agency. His little empire grew quickly during the recent enforcement of the Galactic Federation Unity Policy. Peace was good for people like Jaak. No one needed assassins in times of open war. [Why hire a hitman to kill one man when you can just bomb his entire house, suburb or even planet out of existence?] In times of peace every empire pretended to get along while secretly wanting someone dead without taking the blame. This led Jaak to be a big pro-peace supporter.
   No one who knew of Jaak’s secret methods still lives to tell the tale, Marlene has long become all but a myth. Not that he’s ashamed of his ‘colourful’ days but he doesn’t think his latest crew of nasty killers would quite understand the days of old. That was a long time ago, he tells himself, and things were different back then. He preferred his personal history to be shrouded in mystery anyway [unlike his young attention seeking days]; there are fewer problems with people questioning you on previous ‘non’ events this way. Also, it gave an eerie reputation that just brought in more work. [or so he thought, but truth be told, if you need someone killed, you might as well go to the best; that, and the fact Jaak had long ago killed all competition in his sector]
   One year ago, Jaak was approached by a strange hooded alien unwilling to reveal himself…or herself [itself?]. The strange alien had an even stranger request and terms for a contract. Jaak was about to laugh at the alien’s request but the price that was presented to him was not one to refuse, even for a man as rich as Jaak. Jaak had recently being thinking of retiring and could afford to do so for good on this one job alone [he could have done long ago but is a greedy man]. He agreed to the job and agreed to the terms.
   First he was to track down a specific outside killer and convince him to take the job. Jaak didn’t like having to use someone who wasn’t on his roster, especially someone he had never heard of [Maninblack? What kind of name is that?]. His opinions fell on a deaf ear but a deft hand, more money was quickly offered to silence any more questions. Jaak thought ‘what the hell’ and sent one of his lackeys to bring this man to him, only to have the employee never return. Another lackey was sent and this time only his head was returned.
   Jaak was furious. No one kills his boys. He informed the strange alien of the lack of co-operation and suggested once again to let him use one of his own hitmen, while wanting the mystery man killed for such insolence. The strange alien said no, that only this man is able to hunt down the victim he wanted dead. Jaak told him nonsense, he had the best trackers in the galaxy. Everybody knows that. The strange alien laughed [more of a crackle really] and informed Jaak it is little harder then that. He told Jaak he would sent him something to assist in convincing said killer to help in this cause.
   Jaak still didn’t like it. Why need someone like this? What was one man in comparison to all his boys? No one had escaped him or his agency. Ever. They even boast their 100% success rate when convincing clients to shop with them and not go to competitors [what competitors?]. There can be nothing special about this man otherwise he would have heard about it. Jaak would have to see this man to believe it.
   The next day a small package arrived. Inside was a small box containing a small trinket and a dossier on the victim that was for the killer’s eyes only. Offer this small gift, wrote the strange alien, for he will not refuse it. Jaak looked at the ring and shock his head. If a fortune can not buy this man, then how shall a small ring? Jaak thought. He collected his entire agency for protection and travelled to see this mysterious man in person.
   For it was just a man, which did surprise Jaak somewhat. Jaak thought it might have been some special alien that had the ability to morph through walls, go invisible or something similar [something cool, this is sci-fi!] to that effect. But, alas, it was just a man. Jaak didn’t like using Earthlings in his agency, regardless of how rough they looked. Too frail he thought and too many emotions. Now Jaak understood the ring. Man and their silly emotions and concepts, he laughed out loud as he stood in the empty warehouse surrounded by his [very well armed] men. He grinned and held out his hand, offering the ring as payment.
   The man in black merely took the ring and Jaak’s hand with it. As Jaak crumbled to his knees screaming in pain and his boys jumping into the fray, the man in black stopped them all with a stare from his endless black eyes.
   Silence.
   He boomed he would take the job out of respect for returning a lost treasure.  
Jaak clutched his severed arm tightly with his remaining hand in a vain effort to stop the bleeding. He bit down on his tongue and held back more screams of pain as sweat ran down his face. His men stood around him, weapons raised. They waited for Jaak’s signal to rip this human apart.
   But it didn’t come.
   Jaak was scared. He did not know why. Even surrounded by all his men he knew. Death and pain would come to all of them if they tried.
   Who do you want me to kill?
   Jaak glared up at the man in black with venom dripping from his eyes.
   The man in black stared straight back into Jaak’s eyes. The dark pools become a lost void that Jaak was finding himself drawn into. Jaak’s sanity started to pull away into the black hole that was the man in black. Images appeared in Jaak’s head pushing his brain to the limit.
   A war chariot riding over men.
   Blood.
   A horse foaming at the mouth as spears pierce it.
   Blood.
   A massive spaceship fall apart, trapped in a gravity well.
   Blood.
   Screams lost in void, empty mouths crying for help.
   Blood.
   People on their knees with guns pointed to their heads.
   Blood.
   Tears streaming down faces as they begged for mercy.
   Blood.
   The images got faster and more intense. Jaak thought his head was going to explode under the pressure and sink into his spine. The pain. The weight on his mind.
   Jaak screamed blood. His brain flooded. He collapsed to the ground but was unable to unlock his gaze with the man.
   Enough! Jaak’s mind yelled as he ground his teeth together, snapping two.
   Who do you want me to kill? It was repeated.
   The sound echoed through Jaak’s mind like thunder, the pain was immense, forcing his eyes shut, cutting off the penetrating gaze. The images stopped and the pain quickly subsided.
Jaak knew he was beaten without even a fight. His men scared stiff with a glance and his hand taken in a grasp. This was no ordinary man. This was an empty monster whose existence lapped at reality.
Jaak nodded his head forward and the dossier was presented to the man in black.
   The man in black took it.
   He tore open the file and flicked thru it. He turned to leave but stopped and looked at Jaak.
   I have seen your death, he told Jaak. I have seen your last moment.
   Jaak tried to laugh in defiance but only managed to spit out blood through his broken teeth. How’s that?
   I have seen it through your eyes. And I can see myself.
   The man in black turned and left letting the file fall from between his fingers. Many pages and photograph’s floated to the floor, showing a man who seemed to wear many faces.