Present time. Manila, Philippines.
Heavy rain poured in the night; flashes of lightning powerfully ripped the sky like a piece of paper. A few blocks in a deserted street lies an old building that served as a hideout for syndicates. From the dark, a mysterious figure lurked in a corner. Like the speed of lightning, it moved swiftly, soft moans were heard, one by one a lifeless body of a man collapsed on the ground. Then another one felt the cold blade on his neck, without making a sound, his throat was slit in a heartbeat. Another guard whimpered to his final death, but before he loses his breath he caught a glimpse of a shadowy human figure stabbing his companion.
An intruder had entered the building, a man with a gun tried to attack but like the fate of others, one swift of a sharp blade severed his throat causing thick blood to flow down from his neck. Within seconds, he dropped on his knees with eyes wide open. A pair of black boots passed in front of his lifeless eyes, and it walked without a sound.
Between the harrowing darkness, raindrops were turned into a rhythm; the sound of the storm transformed into an orchestra of a deadly melody. The shadow elegantly trailed across the hallway, in a calculating speed, the throats of unsuspecting victims were cleaved, blown brains were scattered on the wall by a silencer and knives were thrown to their bodies with perfect precision.
The cold breeze had entered the open windows, causing the stench of walls to reek a foul odor. The pungency of human waste and old wet concrete emanated a dirty air from a gust of wind. Dimmed, flickering lights on the dusty ceiling guided the hallways. Water dripped somewhere, echoing a hollowed noise across the corridors.
Inside the office, Antonio hurriedly loaded ammunition into the gun, his shaking hands barely able to hold it, causing a few bullets to drop on the floor. A bolt of lightning ripped the sky once again, and the flash of light gleamed on his face as the lamp over the table flared. He flinched at the thunder, its sound like a huge boulder thrown from above, shaking the ground. The loud noises of nature made him fidget; the thunderbolt seemed to mock him, sending tremors through the windows as if an earthquake had occurred. "I-I'm going to k-kill you," Antonio hissed in fear while placing the revolver on the table. He received a phone call from one of his men, knowing what transpired and ready to face his unknown enemy.
The door slammed open.
"B-boss...y-you must leave." His henchman arrived at the door, catching his breath and staggering towards him. Extreme loss of blood caused him to kneel on the floor, facing the table until he collapsed.
"F--uck," Antonio uttered in pure terror; his henchman was dying in front of him with a dagger stuck in the spine. He watched the blood slowly flow down onto the carpet. The man had a temporary seizure, his feet trembling on the floor, and then he lost his breath in a snap.
"Twenty-seven," a mysterious voice counted the deaths through the narrow hallway. Using the gun with a silencer, the locks were destroyed on every door as it fired a silent shot again and again.
Out of nowhere, the lightning echoed through the night once more, sending shrills to the skin, the sound of thunder screamed like a banshee in the midst of hell.
BANG!
Antonio kept on firing the gun when he spotted a figure standing near the door, but the shadow just stood, staring at him. It watched him from afar without the slightest fear. He fired his gun again, but the bullets failed to penetrate to the body, falling off like pieces of crumpled paper. The shadow slowly emerged from the dark, wearing black long sleeves and pants with bullet holes on the chest and stomach and exposing the smooth white skin coming from the bullets. He fired again, but to no avail, only to see the cartridges resembled like a speck of dust wiped off from the clothes. "You ruined my shirt again," a voice of a woman spoke to him with annoyance.
Cold sweat began to form on Antonio's forehead. His evil eyes lingered the presence of a woman, standing on the doorway. He held his gun, trying his best to hide his fear. Unconsciously, both of his knees trembled under the table. He moved his chair closer to the edge of the desk, and never left his eyes to the woman.
"W-who the fuck are you? Who are you?" He kept on whispering when she moved closer. His hand began to shake; sheer terror mirrored in his eyes. Slowly, his sweat trickled down on his jaw, but his heartbeat pulsated in a fast crescendo, causing his pulse to react in a turbulent rhythm. He could not understand what kind of person standing in front of him. Some demon? A being who came from the hollows of hell? Was it death? These words came into his mind; the moment he blinked his eyes, he knew his nightmare was about to come close.
He fired again, breaking the whole glass window and enough for strong winds to enter. "W-who are you?" He muttered, still pointing the gun in one direction.
"I'm here to collect your soul," the voice seemed like the hollow wind in the cave. She stepped closer.
A chilling rush of wind entered the room; it shuffled the papers over the table and dropped them on the floor one by one. She advanced at him, then without a slight fear, she pressed her palm against the nuzzle.
Antonio pulled the trigger, but only the fumes answered his distress. "I-I ask you again...who the fuck are you?" his voice stuttered from horror. His throat went dry, hands turned cold, and every part of his nerves presented a total nightmare.
"Does it matter if you know who I am? I can smell your fear, Antonio...you are the kind of person who has no right to live. You feed off from everyone's misery," she responded calmly.
"Now...now...your time has come. I came here to kill you, or you kill yourself?" A soft smooth hand grasped Antonio's shoulder; it made him jittery from its touch. "I'm your death." She suddenly gripped his hair at the back, yanked it then forcing him to stare at the ceiling with his blinking eyes. "Hmph!" Antonio groaned with trembling lips. He sensed again the cold hands touching his shoulder with the deadly voice whispering to his ears. "You kidnapped a lot of young girls. Made them sex slaves." His jaw trembled again; his mouth was agape, uncertain whether to breathe or scream. "You sell them like a commodity, do you deserve to live? Must I spare your life?" The thunder answered the questions, causing a prickling sensation to Antonio's spine.
"You will waste your bullets if you keep on firing at me, nobody will save you now. Either you kill yourself, or I make you suffer." Antonio swallowed a lump in his throat when he heard those words; the small hairs across his body stood on end. "Do it now," she whispered the hair-raising warning.
She took an empty chair in front of him and sat. Antonio's eyes were pleading, but he knew it was too late for that. The one staring at him was not even human, it could be death, or worst could be the devil. His breath grew thin and ragged. Antonio held the gun; he pointed it to his temple with eyes burgeoning with tears. Labored breathing resonated from him when he hesitantly pulled the trigger. "Ssshhh...not yet." She stood only to remove the gun from his clammy cold fingers.
"We will play a game." She said and expertly rotated the barrel from the revolver. The spinning sound seemed death that was about to reach his ears. She offered the gun to Antonio. With his trembling hand, Antonio once again pointed the gun to his head.
CLICK!
An empty barrel resonated.
Tears streamed down on his helpless face; a great sob escaped from his lips. Out of great fear, his body turned moist from sweat. Slimy mucus went down from his nose while crying, together with pungent urine trickling down on his pants.
CLICK!
Like a game of roulette when the barrel spun, one life would end.
"P-please...d-don't kill me. D-do you want money? I'll pay for you. J-just don't kill me," his voice strained from tears. He let out a strangled cry and degenerated into a childish whimper.
"Put the gun into your mouth." She commanded with fingers snapping in front of his face. Antonio inserted the nuzzle inside his mouth. He closed his eyes, the thunder roared, lightning flashed in his face, and a loud noise finally shattered his head.
The fragments of his brain splattered on the chair. The back of his skull made a large hole mirroring the stained wall.
She finally gave a bored sigh after removing the bonnet on her head, long dark hair fell to her mid-back. Her eyebrows were perfectly arched; her cheekbones were prominent on her face. She smiled, her lips looked soft as velvet, like a beautiful shade of Frosted Tulip. Not much had changed the features of Nefertari; she remained beautiful. If there was one thing she kept on changing, she had numerous names. The world knew her as Margo Sinclair.
Margo poured a scotch into the glass. Watching him gave her horrible boredom anyway. She decided to sit on a couch while holding a glass of scotch and savored the taste. She yawned, causing her to be sleepy while staring at him. Margo checked the holes in her clothes and frowned. No amount of bullets could kill her, for she was the definition of eternity. A kind of immortal who lived and breathed like a normal human. With all the years living with no end, she decided to go with time. She only killed for fun or to pass the waves of eternity.
Margo gave an exasperated sigh while watching the lifeless body of Antonio. She rubbed her temples when she felt the heaviness of her eyes, she had fallen asleep on the couch with the cold breeze brushing her face.
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