It was a quiet mid-winter afternoon. Cold. Dreary. The gray clouds hung in the sky like a dome of ash covering the earth while the dying trees wilted away. Some people might have said I was lonely, an outcast, but in my eyes I was never alone. You see, over the years I had collected many trophies, locks of hair, body parts, maybe an ear or two, from all of the individuals who have ceased to exist in this world by my doing. The world that I lived in was very wrong indeed.

I was the head of a secret underground association referred to as “The Organization”. The Organization functioned as a system to destroy higher power and to bring up the oppressed. Throughout the years of The Organization being active, the sudden disappearance and deaths of certain individuals who were in positions of power was described by many as the work of vigilantes. No, The Organization was not a group of people who ran around slaughtering, murdering, killing for good or for bad. Instead, it was a widespread web of highly trained mercenaries skilled in assassination unknown to the general public. The public eye was much more concerned with day-to-day problems than the safety and lives of their leaders. No protection. No security. Not a guard. You could say The Organization’s job was an easy one.

Easy indeed. Simple. Decisive. The Organization has been active for a few hundred years now. The assassinations of Abraham Lincoln, John F. Kennedy, were caused by members of The Organization. Do you think, by chance, that the assassination of a President of the United States of America could be successfully managed without inside help? The answer is plainly no. Members were everywhere. The Organization was kept a secret until one member fatally admitted that he was part of a secret underground society that was responsible for the deaths of all the important figures who were assassinated. Shortly after the confession the member himself was killed. I killed him.

Discovered. Caught. Noticed. The Organization was in havoc. I had to put an end to it myself. I directed all of the officials to gather their regional members together and issue out a command. Order 13: When discovered, members shall proceed to take their own lives to keep the secrets of The Organization safe. The loyalty of each did not waver even in the most extreme conditions. They ended their lives for the good of The Organization and its secrets died with them.

Now, almost twenty years after the destruction of The Organization, I am writing this memoir to tell you that all is not as it seems in the world. Fear. Terrorism. Sometimes the unknown can be worse than all of the known and expected put together…
On this cold, dreary, mid-winter day.