Black Card Paranoia

Throughout history of humanity, the owners of the Black Card have had a very short and eventful life span. Most of them kicked the bucket and shuffled their mortal coil within a month or so of coming in possession of the said card.

After all, once you wield the card for the said time period, there is nothing much left in life that can excite you or inspire a will to live in you. You just want to get rid of the card and your life too. That's how it works, that how it has worked ever since the Black Card was created.

But as all good things go, something had to fuck up. Someone had to throw a fucking spanner in the gears of a well oiled machine. The said oil was probably the blood, sweat, tears and other bodily fluids of previous owners of the Black Card. Now the machine was in disarray and for the first time, no one knew who owned the Black Card.

The most powerful artifact in the world was missing for ten months now. And with each passing day, the power of the card increased, making the person possessing it someone you'd not want to fuck with.

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Mr. Kosmos turned the Black Card in his hand once more.

It radiated such a vibe of positivity that he knew everything was going to be alright in his life. He knew with the certainty of sun rising and setting that it was all A-OK. He had things in control. He was the master and commander of his ship. He placed the card back in his wallet and put the wallet in the front pocket of his jeans.

There was some blood on his shoes, but that was not important. The important thing was that he had a vehicle in his possession. The girl had been easy to kill. Just a snap of her neck, but the man had put up a fight and most of the blood was his. Mr. Kosmos looked once more at the whole scene that was spread out in front of him. The man's body was twisted and torn like a marionette with its strings cut. His head was at an awkward angle from his body. Completely unnatural, completely dead.

The girl's body was lying still on the ground like she was being made ready for some arcane satanic ritual. There was not going to be any of that, though. Not here. Mr. Kosmos had nothing to do with Satan or any of his minions.

No rituals, he reminded himself.

He had dragged the bodies to the side of the road and he was torn between digging a single grave for them or just setting them on fire. He decided to dig the grave. They had given him their lives and their truck, this was the least he could do. Luckily, there was a spade in the back of the truck. He slipped on his headphones, chose Cannibal Corpse from the playlist and started digging. He wanted to be done before dark.

He had to visit mother.

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Heyyy, it's Mr. Kosmos once again. It seems he got rid of his itch!