My name is Sam Sterling. I used to be one of the people I now hunt. I was an ad executive who targeted cigarettes to teenagers. Then I found out that when you sign your name on the wrong document, you sign yourself up to take the fall when said document gets leaked to the press. I was fired. No advertising company in the world would hire me. I went through crack withdrawal, a painful experience that changed the way I viewed life. After that was over, I decided to free the world forever from the monotonous routine that threatened to consume the planet.
This had been tried many times before, with little or no success. The reason large plans to overthrow or clean out society never work is because people feel that they are being oppressed. Large entities are frightening because they lack feelings. A corporation can’t be sad, angry, or in love. It’s hard to identify with a nation. That’s why we have leaders. That’s also why we have a flag. I am different. I am one man. One man can be angry. One man can have distinct views on life. One man doesn’t need two thirds majority to make any kind of decision. One man can make a difference, no matter anyone may try to tell you.
How? Death. Death makes an impact. Everyone fears death but those who are near it. If you kill a CEO of a major company, people talk. The first person I murdered in the name of restructuring society was a man named Louis C. Camilleri. He was the CEO of a major company, Philip Morris Co. Inc. He had no wife, no kids. I studied him, watched his patterns, and waited for the time to strike.
I rushed him as he was walking in the front door, then struck him in the side of the head with a tire iron. He woke up tied to a chair. His scream was muffled by the duct tape over his mouth.
“Mr. Camilleri, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” I said as I pulled back my jacket to reveal a gun. His screaming stopped. I peeled back the tape from his lips.
“What does the easy way involve?” he asked. His voice was shaking slightly. I could see the fear in his eyes.
“You transfer $30 million into my Swiss bank account, and I allow you to live. I know you have it.”
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?”
“You don’t. No more questions.” With that I put a laptop in front of him.
“Just enter your name, account number, and amount to transfer and no one has to get hurt,” I said while I untied his hands. He did as he was told. I must have been convincing when I told him he could live. That, or he thought that I was mentally unsound. Maybe he thought I would be caught. He never lived long enough to tell me.
When he was done I pushed my gun to the back of his head. He didn’t seem surprised. He was when he heard the gun cock, though. He drew in a sharp breath, and I knew that I had just shattered any thoughts he had had about safety.
The thing I like most about guns are their finality. No one can undo the damage caused by a gun. They can hide it, but a gun can shatter anything into unrecognizable pieces. Louis, once broken by my gun, would never be put back together again. The bullet traveled through his head and destroyed his brain. Five seconds later I was staring with a wide eyed gaze at the cone of blood, brain, and bone matter strewn across his living room. I was $30 million dollars richer and he was infinitely poorer. I found myself vomiting on the floor.
I got used to it though. To date I have murdered 34 CEOs or high ranking corporate officers. They fear me. I also cover my tracks. Everywhere I go I use a different name. I squirt other people’s blood on the floors and ceilings. I use a different set of latex fingerprints every time I kill someone. I am getting better. The corporations are crumbling. Fear me.