𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐘 ― d. grayson ¹

⤷ one

Coming to an abrupt halt, parking the truck wherever they pleased, almost running into the nearby building's wall, the driver jumped off and started to explain something agitated. Whatever had happened, it had to be terrible enough to haste the shipment. A few guards moved closer to the back doors, prepared to swing them open, guns pointed to shoot. Knowing what was behind those metal doors and the danger that threatened them, he had to move fast, intervene before they moved.

The man's hand was inches away from the handle when a small knife stabbed his knuckles, leaving his articulations paralyzed by pain. Guns were aimed all around, trying to catch the person responsible, but they were all pointing the wrong way.

Jumping behind the toughest looking, the back of his dagger blew behind the ear, right into the Vagus Nerve. It didn't take long for the entire body to slowly collapse into the floor. He hid in the shadows before anyone noticed him. Darkness was his ally, and he intended to use it to its fullest, traveling from corner to corner without being seen, taking down one man each time.

The smell of blood lingered in the air, that metallic scent that somehow reached the tongue, tasting as its odor. Bullets flew through the air, the triggers pulled to cause small explosions, deafening for someone who isn't used to it. All of this together was a drug for Zachary, one that stimulated his euphoria, driving him merciless.

His next attack was below the knee, stabbing the man in the ankle, sending him to the cold ground. Pulling it out, he tossed it to his neck, blood pumping out maniacally. "Stay where you are! Another step and I'll shoot!"

"That's a tempting offer," he mocked the man, a devilish smirk growing on his dry skin. Sometimes, a darker side of him took over, a part that couldn't be controlled. It was that alter personality everyone pushed back, afraid of other's reactions. Here's the truth, he always told whoever tagged along for those violent missions and had to see his monstrous actions, no one actually gives a damn fuck about your shady side, they're dealing with their own. It's better to let it out to play from time to time before it consumes you.

Yet, it still raised the hairs in the back of your neck to see his icy orbs turn dark, consumed by his deepest desires. His true, free form.

"I'd like to see you try," his grin dropped, leaving no trace of ever being there. The next movements came out of nowhere, he had sprinted off of sight before anyone realized it. Three men were left standing. From the shadows, a pair of pale hands grabbed the bald man's head and dryly twisted it.

Two men held onto their weapons for dear life, although those guns were used more as a shield than an actual weapon. Their hands shook like gelatin on a plate, jiggled by a little kid who had the most boring dinner of his life and found salvation on a simple dessert. There was no possible way they could shoot. And even if they pressed the trigger, chances of hitting the target were extremely low.

In simpler words, their end was nearer than expected.

Careless if the man was twice his size, Zachary jumped from behind him, pulling him down. Before reaching the cold ground, wet with the past days of soft rain, he rolled away. He only approached him once again like a hungry spider curious to find the pray stuck on its web, their eyes connected for a short second before a sharp blade cut through the skin and the carotid artery.

Emotionless, this dangerous vigilante watched as life left his brown eyes, losing its spark, pupils decreasing size, losing focus. As if he hadn't murdered a person, he got to his feet, eyes on his next target.

Scared, wishing to change his written fate, the remaining man dropped the pistol, which fell to the ground like a used bullet cap. His hands rose to the air in surrender, trembling as though he stood in front of his worse nightmare. That's on him for participating in this business. With quick steps, this monster reached for the man, hands holding with anger both sides of his head. But he did not twist it. No, he did something worse.