How to Kill

How to Kill

Known as probably one of the most dangerous and powerful man alive at the current moment, Lars Wolff knew his life was coming to an end. It wasn't just that all his enemies had teamed up to try to get rid of him and his allies, but nearly every government had him on their top ten most wanted lists. The greatest threat was his younger brother, who also called for his blood. So, Lars decides that he might as well have some fun before he dies. Just he didn't intend on making friends.

Chapter 1


by: 68687
There was much yelling in the large meeting room. Important men and women were yelling at each other, arguing over the reason this meeting was called. It would've been seen as barbaric to someone who hadn't known what was going on. Yet this was politics, in its strange, twisted way.

Many political leaders were at their breaking point with this problem. Their people called for the blood of one man, who just two weeks previously blew up multiple political headquarters. In Canada, part of Parliment Hill had been blasted away. In America, the White house was missing it's roof. In England, the Houses of Parliment were missing several towers, and there was a large amount of profanity in several languages written in what seemed to be animal blood. All over the world, people were absolutely outraged.

And everyone knew who was responsible. Lars Wolff, a twenty seven year old terrorist of sorts. No matter how many things he destroyed or vandalized, Lars never intently harmed citizens. Yet they all hated him, except a few 'hippies' who agreed with no government or whatnot.

Either way, the current Prime Minister of Canada was definitely enraged. Nearly all of the Western World wanted this man to be punished, too many wanted him dead. This meeting was called to see how the political leaders of the world could handle this problem, which was growing worse day by day.

Not only had Wolff blown up things, but he'd stolen so much money from Political parties and governments, tax money, which they now knew was being used in probably illegal ways. Wolff just happened to also run one of the biggest drug cartels in Europe, rivaling the power of the ones in South America.

The Prime Minister had noted that despite all the problems he caused, he hadn't gone out of his way to harm civillians nor had he purposely killed innocent bystanders. He just wanted to vandalize, is what the Prime Minister gathered. But he didn't know why.

After a while, they had calmed down and now it was just angry swearing under their breaths. The Prime Minister decided to stand up and say his point, peacefully.

"Now that we're all done our arguing, we haven't solved a thing," he said, standing up. "This is Twenty Thirty-five, we're better than this! So in order to come to an agreement on what we should do, we must do this peacefully. Do you agree with me?"

A few murmurs of yes and nods urged the Prime Minister to continue. "We need a plan of action, and I think I heard that the President of Switzerland had an idea? Would you like to speak?" he asked, turning his attention to the short President.

"Yes. This may be a bit of a bad idea, but it is probably the best of what we've got. Wolff has many enemies within the criminal world, right? So what if we were to... bribe his enemies to dispose of him or capture him for us? Then we could hold another meeting to try to find the correct punishment for him," the President explained.

A few angry outcries were heard but shushed. Murmurs of disagreement and agreement were said, and the country leaders looked around, discussing with others on what to agree.

"I think it would be a good idea," the Prime Minister of Italy said, standing up. "In my country we sometimes do this with the Mafia. I've heard that the DEA has made agreements with the cartels in Mexico before, so why couldn't we do it with other criminals? I am sure that Wolff has enemies within Italy's Mafias, no?"

The Prime Minister of England stood up as well, her expression curious. "What if they were to turn on us? What would we bribe them with?"

"Money of course," the President of Switzerland said. "It would perhaps appease our people if we didn't tell them the whole story. The sum would be rather large, but all of our economies could pull it together. We must make an alliance in order to capture Wolff. He's done enough damage already."

The President of the United States agreed. "We gotta stop him. Who are his main enemies?"

The President of Russia stood up. "There are a few in my country, some of Russia's gangs despise him."

"And in mine," The Italian Prime Minister added.

Another hour or so followed, before the world leaders agreed on what they would do. Bribe their gangs and drug cartels and mafia to capture Lars Wolff, make it a competition between them. The reward was large, they'd agreed on six million dollars for his capture.

Now all they had to do was make an arrangement with the gangs and such, without the media knowing too much about it.

The Prime Minister of Canada seemed to have a bit of weight lifted off his shoulders as he walked out of the meeting room, yet a small feeling of dread was still there.

He had his doubts on whether the gangs could actually capture Wolff, he was the most well hidden criminal in all of the World, and he had so much power. Contacts in every country. If he wanted to he could probably start a war. Yet he didn't do any more harm than lots of damage to major buildings, most of the time it didn't result in a large death toll at all. It was minor really, perhaps only two or three deaths each time he did something.

But Wolff was dangerous, and had to be stopped. The World agreed with it.

While the chaos of the meeting was going on, Lars Wolff was bored. He was currently going through thousands of pages on the internet, every now and then refreshing the tab he had open with news about the meeting that was going on, concerning him.

He had found it rather funny, actually. To think, these big important leaders of countries were having a meeting about him and yelling at each other about what to do about him. It was the most amused he'd been in a while. Lars thought of himself as a simple artist, nothing more.

But no one else would agree with him on that. They called him a vandal, criminal, they said he was insane and mentally unstable. When in fact, all he did was blow up a few things, sell a bit of weed, a bit of smuggling illegal things into countries, without causing much harm to actual people. He didn't like how Government's were run, he didn't like how much important information the Governments of the world hid from their people. He knew this was a large understatement, however.

Four years ago, the once amazing tattoo artist decided that yes, it was time something changed. Time to shake things up a bit, give the media something interesting to focus on instead of what scandals the latest celebrities were having.

Lars used to be one of the most amazing tattoo artists in Europe, working in Milan, Italy, where customers from all over the world would come to see him, to try to make an appointment to get one of his fabulous tattoo's on his body.

He could've become a millionare from that business alone. Despite how much he loved his previous job, he felt as though he could do something... more. In high school, Lars was always good with Chemistry. He was the best in his city at it. He had begun experimenting with small bombs and fireworks when he was seventeen. He'd lost interest in explosions when he finished high school, but in the past four years he'd nearly perfected the 'art' of bombs.

In his quest to make the worlds Government's more honest with their people, Lars decided that the only way to drill the message into the world's mind was to do it in a slightly violent way. He had gained many supporters, and he knew there would be a backlash from the media.

But one of the main reasons Lars did what he did, was because he was bored. Not much could make Lars laugh, he was a rather stoic man. But seeing peoples reactions to his work, it always brought him to tears of laughter.

One of his newest 'creations' was in Parliment Hill, Canada. He'd blasted away an entire tower from the building, before spraying the building in red spray paint the words: They Lie.

The result in the Media was probably the funniest thing on Earth, to Lars. Many people thought it barbaric and horrible, while others thought it good and true. People on the internet got into the silliest fights about it, but the main question was how he did it.

Lars had contacts all over the world. He'd gained friends from everywhere, alliances too. A Homeless Network even, he'd been inspired to start that after he spent two days straight reading Sherlock Holmes.

While he didn't talk much, Lars had a way with words and found it easy to persuade and manipulate people. He had a certain charm, is what some people would say. Lars could talk you into doing anything, and it was a technique he had long since perfected.

He let out a small sigh, as he went back to refresh the news tab on his laptop. Another article, this time with a picture of him on it. It was his mugshot from two years ago, when he'd been briefly captured by the police, but escaped.

It showed him with a slight scowl, his dark blue eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep and dark bags underneath as well, narrowed in distaste. He had a slight stubble, and his wavy, dark golden hair which parted messily to the right, fell just under his thick, dark eyebrows. His straight nose had a few freckles on it, and it was just slightly crooked from a fist fight he'd been in in his high school years. The small, deep scar on his left cheekbone looked prominent, because his lightly tanned face was slim and hollow, adding to his 'mysteriousness'.

Lars wasn't exactly pleased with how he looked in the photo, but it did make him look a bit scarier therefore adding to his public image. The tall man stretched his long legs out underneath his desk and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He was getting tired, but he had to wait until the meeting about him was over.

A small smile graced his thin lips, he loved this attention. He had none of it before he became a tattoo artist, and it just grew overnight after he'd bombed something for the first time. Back in Copenhagen, where he'd spent most of his childhood living in, no one ever paid attention to him. When he'd moved from Denmark to Canada not long after his fourteenth birthday, a small bit of attention had graced Lars. He was quiet, stoic and distant to most, yet to a very select few, loud, obnoxious and funny. The friends he'd made once had drifted apart from him. Lars didn't really mind it, but sometimes he grew lonely.

Despite all of this, Lars still had a thought that always cheered him up. It's good to be bad.

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