Lunar New Year’s Eve, 1989. Hong Kong, Tsim Sha Tsui.
“It’s nine.”
The teenager looked at the battered watch on his left wrist. The glass was so badly shattered you couldn’t find a single spot that was unmarred and yet, the boy had not replaced the watch. This was one of only two things his adoptive father had left him. He remembered what his adoptive father had said–those without a sense of time will never amount to anything important.
His adoptive father had died on a mission because his teammate had miscalculated the time.
The teenager found the right spot near the shopping center, laid a tattered piece of cloth over the ground and started taking out various antiques from his bag. He was very particular in the way he arranged the merchandise; every single antique facing towards the passers-by. The bracelets were stacked against each other neatly in a row, like dominoes. The teenager’s ragtag little stall did manage to draw the attention of some people, but these potential clients left as quickly as they came.
A woman was praying fervently outside her tiny shop, joss sticks in hand, only stopping short of getting on her knees.
“Oh, bless us, Pure One! Bless us, Great Generals!”
The teenager couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of this. He let out a quiet sigh. If praying worked, even just a little, the world would already be at peace and everyone would always be happy and fulfilled.
The teenager’s stall was attracting a lot of eyes. It was only 10°C today, one of the coldest days since winter started. The teenager was also short and had a boyish face; he seemed like he was only fourteen or fifteen. His clothing appeared threadbare and anyone that paid even the slightest amount of attention would realize that he was freezing. His scrawny body shivered uncontrollably, his lips were purple and his hands kept rubbing his shoulders, as if that would fend off the chilly winds. The teenager inhaled the cold air, rallied himself and shouted out the lines he had prepared.
“Everybody, everybody! Come and take a look at the antiques of Cheng’s Antiques! Come quick! Come now! Before it’s all sold out!”
The way the teenager shouted the words was so practiced and fluent, it was almost certain he had done the same thing dozens, if not hundreds, of times before.
The passers-by did not react in any particular way when they heard the shouting. They simply walked by quietly. They couldn’t be bothered to wonder why a young boy was hawking wares on the eve of New Year’s in such freezing temperatures. Why bother? They already had plenty on their own plates. Better to get to work on time.
Anyone would have assumed the teenager was no more than a professional street peddler. However, that same boy tapped at a mic in his ear and whispered.
“Tsz, where’s Pinocchio?”
“Pinocchio’s walking down Chatham Road South and about to turn into Cameron Road, roughly three hundred meters away from you.”
A mature and seductive voice rang out in his ear. The flirtatious tone of her voice seemed to seep into every word she said.
“I have to say, boss, you are an excellent actor. No one would ever suspect that you are a killer.”
The teenager winced a little at this comment.
“Screw off! I’m actually freezing for real out here.”
“Hahahaha…” Chime-like laughter rang from the other end of the communication device. She seemed to be very amused.
The teenager fidgeted with a loose ring on his finger. This was the other possession his adoptive father had left him. His adoptive father had taught him everything–from astronomy to geology, psychology to chemistry, various schools of martial arts–all for the sake of raising him to be a prodigy. A prodigy of accidents.
What are accidents? That which are unexpected. And those who could control that which is unexpected are the Accident Makers. That was who the teenager really was. The teenager’s techniques were old-school, but he was cautious and paid great attention to detail. Every single one of his jobs had gone off without a hitch, impressing his subordinates each and every time. He had earned the respect of his crew at the young age of fourteen.
Pinocchio was their target this time. Their client had been after the corporate secrets the target was holding for a long time. Supposedly, it was a chemical formula for a drug that was ten years of research in the making. The contract was worth over $4,000,000. An offer that was hard to refuse. However, the teenager didn’t rush into the deal. He made sure to investigate both companies, as well as the actual motives of the client.
He had only accepted the job after confirming that nothing was out of the ordinary. The teenager and his crew had made sure to prepare for at least three months leading up to the accident that would happen today.
The teenager sat at his little stall as he secretly circulated internal force throughout his body to warm it up slightly. He made sure that it wouldn’t affect his appearance, while also preventing his muscles from being stiff from the cold. He couldn’t wait to be done with this job and to retire with all that money. He might only be fourteen, but he was far more mature than that. He was as meticulous as veterans twice or even thrice his own age. He hated this life of living on the knife’s edge. Every moment was a gamble with his very own life at stake. Peace and stability were what he wanted the most; what he needed to wash the blood stench off of his hands.
“Pinocchio’s dressed in a gray coat and khaki pants. He’s holding a brown envelope in his right hand,” Tsz said seriously, without any hint of the teasing tone from earlier.
“Everybody, get into position. Everything according to plan!” the teenager ordered as he sprang onto his feet.
He quickly walked towards a mother-daughter pair who were walking past his stall, shouting as he did so.
“Ma’am, would you want to take a look at some antiques?”
The woman was about to refuse when she saw how little clothing the boy was wearing. She couldn’t help but ask: “What are you doing out here manning a stall alone, kid?”
The teenager put on a hesitant expression as he stuttered: “My dad died early and my mom, she’s… paralysed. So, I…”
“Oh, poor boy! Well, since it’s New Year’s tomorrow, I have an early gift for you.” The woman passed the hot flask of congee in her hands to her daughter and took out a red packet from her purse.
The teenager shook his head, insistent on not taking the gift.
“I might be poor, but I have my dignity. My mother taught me never to take someone else’s money.”
The woman smiled. She took out another red packet from her purse and placed it on the stall. She then picked up an antique that had a $200 price tag on it and smiled as she said, “I’ll buy this then.”
“Boss, 343 steps until Pinocchio arrives at the target destination.”
The teenager smiled innocently at the woman, who was moved at the sight of this. Just then, he put his hand over his stomach and frowned.
The woman asked, “What is it? Are you hungry?”
The teenager nodded, then shook his head. He pointed at the flask in the little girl’s hand.
“It’s fine. If you don’t mind, would you let me have a quick whiff of that congee?”
The woman smiled, like she finally understood how stubborn this boy was. She tapped her daughter on the shoulder and the little girl nodded obediently. She handed the flask over to the teenager. He seemed really hungry; he took the lid off in a hurry and took a deep breath of the enticing smell of congee.
“Two hundred and ninety steps.”
The teenager then put the lid back on the flask, gave it a few weak turns and handed it back to the girl.
“Two hundred and ten steps.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
The boy’s eyes curved as he smiled and thanked the woman.
“Fifty-five.” There was an obvious hint of nervousness in Tsz’s voice.
The teenager saw a middle-aged man at that moment, not far from him, dressed in a grey coat. The man seemed anxious and in a hurry. He looked around him everywhere as he walked, seemingly on the lookout for something.
The teenager glanced at the man from the corner of his eye and felt his heart skip a beat. He made himself focus, but his expression turned solemn. That undispellable sense of unease was very real and he took it very seriously. As an Accident Maker, he had always trusted his sixth sense. In fact, it was his sixth sense that had allowed him to pull off flawless accidents in several previous jobs.
“There’s about to be an accident.” The teenager closed his eyes for a single second, in silent mourning for the middle-aged man.
A loud crash. All of a sudden, a piece of bamboo came loose from the scaffolding of a building above. The bamboo grazed the man’s back, leaving a red mark. The man cried and stumbled forward, crashing into the mother and daughter. The woman hastily pulled her daughter aside, but the girl couldn’t hold on to the flask. The piping-hot congee spilled right onto the man’s pants.
The middle-aged man screamed once again. He flailed and let go of the envelope. He stumbled a few more steps and ran into a woman sticking joss sticks before a tiny altar. The woman was taken by surprise and threw her arms up. The ends of the joss sticks happen to pierce the man in his eyes. He howled in pain and covered his eyes. In his agony-induced frenzy, he made a few missteps and fell into a pothole under maintenance.
An exposed metal rod stabbed him through his throat with a horrendous ripping sound. Blood started pouring like a fountain.
“Aaaah!” The passers-by started screaming upon seeing someone die. Some of them covered their eyes and others even started throwing up at the bloody sight of the corpse.
The teenager knew the time had come. He drew power from his chi field and circulated internal force to his legs. He darted forward, picked up the envelope that the man had dropped and dashed into the crowd. In the blink of an eye, he had vanished entirely, leaving behind a crowd of bewildered pedestrians. Just a few seconds later, the stall he had laid on the ground vanished without a trace as well.
Only the cold corpse was left behind.
1078Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoSNt68rqhZ
