One by One (Suicidal Book 2)

Omen

The area was swarmed by the police and the media the next morning. Police tape covered the entire ruined property and cops had to hold back both shouting reporters and photographers clicking away, plus interested and concerned people. The property was burned to a crisp. The entire mansion had been razed. Ashes and dirt covered the ground. Loading trucks and moving vans attempted to load up as many artifacts that survived as they could. Cops and firefighters remained to put out some small remaining fires and search for any forensic evidence that could have been left behind. 

"This is a tragedy," said the reporter on camera, Fabienne Growley as she stared at the camera, flushing slightly from the heat outside. "Fisadi Douglas was the former patron of the Home for Wayward Boys, until its owner,  Rufus Alexander, was found dead in the nearby Little Boy River. The police suspect foul play. Mr. Douglas house was burned down by vigilantes calling themselves the 'Young Chaos' yesterday. The video they uploaded to YouTube, TikTok, and other social media sites was subsequently taken down by the sites per Mr. Douglas' requests. The police are currently searching for any forensic evidence, both for the arsonists and for Mr. Douglas, whom the criminals indicated was the mastermind behind Alexander's murder and disappearance of the Wayward Boys." 

A tall antelope stepped out of a limousine. He wore a long dark navy blue Italian suit not actually made in Italy, with dark brown, almost black loafers, sticking out from underneath the hem of his long over coat. Two pure white polar bears stood at either of his two sides, glaring around at the crowd behind their tinted glasses. They wore the usual black tuxedos with black tinted sunglasses. The bulge near their shoulders and their waists showed that they were packing at least two Glock 19s, a type of compact gun favored by many in the law enforcement, intelligence agencies, and criminal underworld. 

The reporter rushed towards them. "Mr. Douglas," she shouted. "Mr. Douglas! Can you tell us a-"

She fell to the floor, dead. Blood started to pool beneath her. The police and media immediately turned. The two bears lunged at the shooter and restrained him. 

The shooter was their boss. A small pistol, probably a Derringer, was held in the cold antelope's  hands. It tumbled to the floor, and landed with a loud clack, and he looked down before staring at the horrified crowd with maddened eyes. He giggled and started to yell loudly, making some of the people in the crowd cover their ears in pain from the high pitch of the voice. 

"Don't worry, everyone!" He screeched in a high voice most definitely not the antelope's own. "This city's gonna fall! It's an Omen!" 

He cackled loudly. The police grabbed him and shoved his wrists into the metal cuffs to hold him down. Two SWAT yanked him up from the ground and led him away to their armored vehicle as the media shouted and snapped pictures and videos. 

He was shoved in the back still screaming and kicking, dislodging one of the SWAT guys' helmets and breaking his nose with a loud crack, the lovely sound of breaking bone. As the SWAT guy screamed and dropped to his knees holding his broken and bleeding nose as he yelled, two more SWAT guys arrived, one holding a needle filled with some type of clear fluid. As the two of the other police officers restrained the tall screaming entirely mad antelope, the SWAT guy jabbed the needle in to the animal's neck as he screamed and went limp in the police officer's arms as they gently pushed him in to the back of their massive black SWAT truck. 

Not that far away, a figure in a white mask and a dark jet black hoodie stared at the chaotic scene around them. "Excellent," the figure whispered with a smirk underneath their pure white Walmart face mask. "Excellent."