Remnants before dusk || kairosteele

I

Joules Kastrati

For all things holy, I am not. Deaths Emissary is a symbolic figure associated with the fateful end. It refers to a representation of the end of mortality; a messenger who guides souls to the afterlife. In many worlds, death is personified as an emissary. It's often depicted as a grim reaper or a similar figure. In mine, it's an angry child desperate for revenge.

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The Emissary Strikes Once More: Reigniting Fear and Despair
After enduring two agonizing months of silence, the public had begun to believe they were finally safe from the merciless clutches of a violent death. However, their hopes were tarnished as the ruthless killer, known as The Emissary, meticulously prepared a new menu of torture for the next unfortunate victim. Sources have disclosed that Clarkson Grey, a 41-year-old CEO, fell victim to a brutal and eerily familiar torment, mirroring the inhumane fate suffered by The Emissary's previous targets over the past year.

With each passing day, our nation's faith in law enforcement wavers, and it becomes increasingly evident that even they are losing confidence in themselves. However, as this harbinger of death shows no signs of relenting, it is imperative that we do not surrender hope. Garris Lee, the prodigal leading agent assigned to the case, has reassured our country that his team are on the cusp of unmasking the true identity of this rose obsessed slaughterer. Lee, a consummate professional who has never allowed a case to go unresolved, may face his greatest challenge yet. Will this case be the start of his downfall? After three wrong arrests in the past seven months, uncertainty broods us all when this elusive phantom killer will finally be apprehended and confined behind bars.
— The Daily Access

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The increasing volume level of the average-sized diner does nothing to distract me from my main objective. The incessant ringing bell signifying someone's arrival, the constant clatter of cutlery, and the roars of jocks celebrating a recent win in soccer. They all become small, futile noises as my attention hones in on the article on my screen, glaring at me with knowing eyes.

I'd received the notification of its publication a little over two minutes ago, the time it took me to read it over four times, just like everyone else sitting in the surrounding red and white booths. Identifying those who've already seen it is no challenging task. If they weren't laughing with friends, stuffing their faces with burgers and fries, or glueing their eyes to corner-bound TV screens showcasing sports, they were sitting silently, leering at a glowing screen, exactly as I am.

My eyes scatter around the various groups of people adorning that same silence, similar to that offered by the so-called ruthless killer The Daily Access article speaks of (until last night), and I count about a dozen. Their expressions range from that of shock, fear, a face beat red in anger (at the acting law enforcement, the killer, or both is utterly beyond me), or leached of colour. All of their expressions are valid, as are their feelings, but understanding remains the most prominent emotion they lack the capacity to feel.

I redirect my attention to the dimly lit computer screen between my partially eaten basket of fresh fries and mostly full vanilla milkshake and open another tab. The Emissary has been at large for just over a year and continues to instil fear into the hearts of men and women alike, a clean crime scene and a withered rose between their victims teeth being the most obvious tell. The killer refuses to discriminate against its victims, according to the reports. Each murder is just as brutal as the last and there's a consistency with The Emissary's kills. Just like the ones with the detectives and agents on the case. They continuously fail to catch the culprit, and the culprit never fails to lead those same law enforcers in every direction but North. It's a long and sick game of cat and mouse, one where the winner is inevitable.