Ghost Peppers Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The dim light of Frank McCormick’s apartment glared off the laptop screen as he sat hunched over the desk, the room stifling despite the steady hum of the small fan. His inbox blinked with a new email, the subject line as ominous as ever: FINAL DIRECTIVE.

Frank hesitated, his finger hovering over the touchpad before clicking. The email opened in stark, black text against a white background. The words were cold, cutting through his tenuous confidence like a blade:
________________________________________
From: [REDACTED]
To: Frank McCormick
Subject: FINAL DIRECTIVE
Frank,
You’ve proven to be nothing but a disappointment—sloppy, reckless, and utterly inept. The authorities are closing in on you, thanks to your inability to follow basic instructions. They are circling like vultures, and soon, your incompetence will leave you exposed.

There’s only one way to salvage this. You must complete the final task immediately. No hesitation. No deviations. This is your last chance to redeem yourself.

Your next targets are Justin and Amanda Douglas, residing at 114 Ocean Heights Lane. They are routine. Amanda will be home after 10:00 a.m., Justin by 11:30 a.m. This is your window. Use it.

As always, you’ll enter posing as a delivery driver. Same tools, same method—no excuses this time. Ensure Amanda injects Justin with the Succinylcholine, and then zip-tie both of them in the front. Amanda is to wear the bright yellow bra and panties.

This scene is critical: a white monogrammed pillowcase with the letter “E” must be placed next to Justin’s head. After Amanda is posed, you are to use her blood to write the word “COMPLETE” above the bed. Make it large, make it bold, and leave no room for error.

Had you followed instructions from the start, Frank, the sequence would have spelled out a name—‘JACKIE.’ A perfect message. But your endless screw-ups have ruined that. Now, this is nothing more than a desperate patchwork, thanks to your incompetence.

This is not a request. This is an order. Fail, and you’ll be left to face the consequences of your failures. They’ll find you, Frank. They always do.

Tick tock.
__________________________________________________________________

The email ended abruptly, without a signature or further instruction.

Frank clenched his fists, the veins in his hands standing out as his anger flared. His teeth ground together as the words replayed in his mind: "sloppy," "inept," "incompetent." The voice in his head—the one that had guided him, manipulated him, poisoned his thoughts—was now mocking him.

He shoved the laptop closed with a sharp snap and pushed away from the desk, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. His breathing came fast and shallow, and his hands trembled as he tried to suppress the rage bubbling beneath the surface.

“This is the last one,” he muttered to himself, pacing the small room. “The last one, and I’ll show them. I’ll show them I can finish this.”

But even as he spoke, doubt gnawed at him. Each directive had pushed him further into darkness, and each success only tightened the grip of the one controlling him. He was their pawn, a tool they could discard when no longer useful.

His eyes flicked to the empty Amazon box in the corner, already packed with the tools he would need. The white pillowcase embroidered with the letter “E” sat at the top, mocking him with its pristine folds. The syringe, zip ties, yellow lingerie and gloves were arranged meticulously beside it.

He clenched his fists again, the urge to smash the box to the floor almost overpowering. Instead, he forced himself to breathe, to calm the storm raging within him. There was no turning back now.

Frank sat down, opened the laptop once more, and stared at the email. The word “COMPLETE” seemed to pulse on the screen, its meaning clear and unyielding.
“I’ll finish it,” he growled. “And then I’ll find you.”

He hit "delete" and slammed the laptop shut for the final time. The fan continued to hum as Frank thought the weight of his actions pressed down on him like a suffocating fog, but the voice in his head kept him moving forward.

Tick tock.