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Flipping the small silver handle down, Xylon watched as the crimson stained body of liquid slowly trickled down the white fiberglass into the drain, momentarily disappearing.
Once the bathtub was rid of any water, he retrieved the bottle of Clorox Bleach from under the wooden cabinet removing the cap. Tilting the bottle, he let the clear fluid drizzle inside the drain, among letting some fall into the blue sponge that he held in his other hand.
Seeing a quarter of the bottle had been emptied he then set it down. Rolling up his sleeves, he bent down on his knees thoroughly beginning to scrub the inside and outside of the tub, sure to remove any remaining stains.
Satisfied with his work, Xylon rinsed the tub once more with fresh water and placed his cleaning supplies back where they belonged.
Standing to his feet, he grabbed the handle opening the cabinet removing a pair of leather gloves from the box. Slipping them onto his hands, he placed the box back.
Pivoting his feet, he exited the room shutting off the light. Strolling towards the coal nightstand in his bedroom, he took a look over his array of instruments, being sure that all were available at hand.
Taking a small white cloth, he began cleansing one of the hand held tools until it glinted. Staring into his reflection, Xylon could see the glow in his skin making the corner of his lips twitch into a crooked smile.
Enveloping all his materials into individual black cloths, he placed them into his big black duffel bag residing at the foot of his bed.
He took this time to head over to his closet gathering his formal attire. Xylon undid his white button up placing it on the bed, sliding on a skin tight black under armor shirt with his black cargo pants, black construction boots, and leather gloves.
Alongside his signature black tinted ray bans which blanketed his low beaded eyes, and black surgical respirator mask. He was layered from head to toe, excluding his hair which was neatly plaited into two braids, accompanied by a black hat.
Tossing the bag over his shoulder, he retrieved his keys from the wall hook and made his way towards the door.
Just as he was about to exit the home, he halted himself thinking for a moment haven remembered forgetting one more crucial item.
Setting the bag down he pivoted his feet making his way back down the hall and into the bathroom retrieving it, quickly heading back towards the front door.
Securing the locks, he jogged over settling his belongings into the car. Xylon huffed glancing down at the watch which fitted his wrist reading 11:26 p.m.
He was running out of time.
Strolling to the vehicle's rear, popping the trunk open, Xylon rested his hands above his head surveying the bag as he pondered the details of the content inside. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips slamming the door shut.
