*SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH SPLISH*
The sound of their new Jordan Airforce Max made as they run from me, try to evade me, try to make me look the other way. Their fate was sealed. I do not run after them, only walk. Their red attire, their claim to be in a child's game of imagination, so dull and having so wasted potential. It is...disheartening. The nightsky, a thunderstorm giving us the Gods wrath as I commit another hunt. The prey, wearing their white Airforce Max, their Gucci belt accompanied with sagging pants or if you prefer, trousers. Their black undergarments seen in the line with their hands braided dreads flocking in the wind as their cortisone levels increase. His face, a face of a older gentleman, a scruffy black beard, dark brown eyes, dark skinned; a black men. Do not become political, this act of violence I will endure on this man is not without reaction.
"Every action must comply with a equal and opposite reaction" I said under my breathe as I watch him catch his breathe, unsheathing my weapon before slicing at the back of his legs, ripping through his sagging dark slim fit jeans. I holster my weapon back, grabbing him by his shirt, with a singular punch between his mouth and nose, make him unconscious. As the rain falls upon me, my weapon, and my prey; feeling at peace with my action yet again. The blood trickles down from my weapon, following the trail into the drain rail of where we stood. I take a gasp of air before I proceed to grab the individual with two hands, dragging him. Yet I already grew fatigued from this action, so I decide to throw him over my shoulder, such as a chef would a bag of potatoes, to another location.
TWO HOURS LATER
I finally arrive at my location, I forgot to stretch before picking up this beastly individual. He doesn't look like he weighs a ton, but I struggled. After struggling, I opted to put him in the back of my truck, apply sunglasses to him, and wipe off the blood from his lips. Only to then drive the remaining ten minutes to the location. I step out of the vehicle, making sure to take the ignition keys with me, locking the doors with child locks(locks that cannot be accessed from inside the vehicle) and take a separate set of keys. I push my ignition keys into the back of my pocket while taking out the second set of keys. Still, raining and thunderous as I am dry. Opening the door, before the sound of gravel and rock crushing beneath my feet roared over the tremendously light trickle of rain. A medium sized building, with bricks walls along all three sides except the garage. A rusted sliding garage door on the external, with a newly concrete covered floor internally. I open the garage via a pulley system I built from scratch a few months prior; the string made knitted shoe laces of other prey; the pulley system made from that of a older generation carburetors engine. I drive the vehicle inside, closing the garage with untying the string, letting it slam. The prey, unwoken, must've been a heavy sleeper as I lock the door with a giant bar of steel, three separate chain locks and a piece of plywood planted at the creak of the door. Walking back to the car, I put a finger up to remember.
"First impressions." I say to myself as I walk around the vehicle, grabbing two chairs, sliding them across to the right side of the car. A tool wall accompanied with various instruments for home repair or persuasive requests. One should always have their own set of persuasive tools, best to purchase them from the local home self-repair ropa or store. As well as a few boxes of cleaning supplies and a power hose, a funnel may be too exhausting to us after the subject becomes too responsive.
"...mm...hmm...mmm...wha-where...what da fuck?" I hear escape from my vehicle as I calmly but quickly grab the perpetrator with immense force, putting him in the chair as I tie his hands to the back of the chair, then zip tying his wrist together, but I am not satisfied. I look at the electrical tape and the roll of copper wire, an idea ponders into my imagination, without final thoughts I commit it. First, I wrapped his legs in electrical tape, licked the copper wire, raised it against his forearm, and twisted it unto itself until deep inside, the connected it to a battery, the only variable is turning it on. I set a chair in front of him; sat and reviewed him. I forgot to mention that I took most of his clothing, placed them in a furnace, where they are burning. His only sense of non-humiliation was his undergarments, which was still intact. I turn on the camera, pressed record on the side, saying the following:
"This is recording number #021, subject #021. Main priority is to gather information on various gang activity, anonymously. Proceeding with stage 1."
I finish speaking before I tap the man on his cheeks a few times, asking him the general questions.
"Do you know who you are? Where were you on [REDACTED] 2018? Do you know this person?" But he doesn't come to immediately, he looks around, confused, now trying to look around. I grab his face, texting on his phone and asking him these questions.
"Bruh, let me the fuck go! Imma get my [derogatory term] and fuck yo shit up, bitch! Let me go!" He says trying to manpower his way out of the restraints.
I gesture no with my index fingers, squatting in my attire before I open a text-to-speech application I previously downloaded, texting;
"I know who you are. I know what you have done. I know what crimes you have commited. Your name is [REDACTED], a known-felon with the crips; felony of assault and battery, as well as drug possession." I finish texting before playing. His face was not shock but more anger, I expected this.
The concrete on the ground looked soft before I shove his chair to the side, forcing his body down and him hitting his skull against the concrete. He grunted some pain before I pull his chair back up, asking him the questions again.
"I ain't no snitch bitch! Suck my dick!" He exclaims before I exhale in dissapointment.
I look at the battery, with a singular wired controller, turn the dial clockwise to ten volts. Now, ten volts won't hurt by itself but with a battery coupled, it is ten plus an additional two hundred. His face tensed up, letting out inaudible pain signals. I let up before I sent a different message;
"For every mistruth, the duration will be longer. For every remark not relevant to the question, it will be longer. Do you understand?" I write before hitting play.
He nods a yes. And after a few moments of mistruths and coerching, I finally get all required answers from him. Writing down the answers he has generously given, I let him go, with a singular .22 ACP bullet from his handgun. The loud explosion echoed throughout the room before subsiding, his skull having been drilled into by a 722 mph projectile the size of a Jolly Rancher. Blood splattered everywhere, on the concrete floor, the edges of the walls, and some bits of skull and brain matter skittered underneath my vehicle and some on my outfit, so with taking a moment to walk back to the camera and gently pressing stop button. Then, I press eject to take the cartridge out of the memory slot and place it on the saw table. I take down the tripod the camera recorder was sitting on before I put it in the cabinet, then placed the camera somewhere else after wiping its memory, just like every time. After looking around the room; I kneel beside the dead body, opening the cabinets that I just placed that wretched tripod, below it and taking out one medium sized container of bleach, a peroxide scrubber, as well as dish deterrent, not to mention plastic wrap. Before I begin to clean around the body; I walk toward the door, scrolling through my list and tap 'Antionio Vivaldi Four Seasons' and then walk back to the room.
THIRTY MINUTES LATER
I wrapped the deceased in tape; now on my knees wrapping plastic wrap around the tape, but realising I did the process inverse. I do not have time for this, my thoughts looming as concentration grew. I placed the deceased body in a different vehicle, his to be exact. A black Nissan Sentra, 2012, if I am correct. Putting it in the trunk before closing it as I walk back through the door, now rinsing the bloodied cleaning scrubber in a bleach and soap solution. I walk back to the room, scrubbing the floor mercilessly of all blood stains still fresh. The towels of blood sitting on the furnace tray to be disposed of, the sight of the blood trail on the gravel being washed away by the still occuring rain of the thunderstorm. I take one last look at my watch, exhaling at how much time I have left. I still need to deliver the confessions to the authorities, and not to mention wash myself.
"Time is everything. Do not rush or you make a miscalculated move." I say in my mind as I put away the bleach container, soap deterrent and scrubber, which have all been cleaned with peroxide wipes. With all the instruments carefully placed in a disordered connection, I take off my latex gloves, which are double applied before throwing them in the furnace as well. I close the iron door before beginning the process, starting the gas, then taking off my clothes and tossing them in the furnace as well. With one singular match thrown in, I felt the flames of cleaniless, the deceased police file and public record burned as well, for I will return here for the next part of clean up.
"Au revoir" I repeat before closing my door and garage, now driving the Nissan after checking for bloodstains. In the backseat of the vehicle, I put on my new outfit; a white tank top, black vest suit, black suit coat, grey suit pants and a pair of black loafers as well as a fedora. I then put on a clean pair of latex gloves and place the recording cartridge inside of a yellow package, it couldn't have been the resemblance of a Amazon paper package in my defence. Sealing the opening with tape, a address to the local police station along with hair and blood sample I collect before beginning the recording from the deceased. After, I take it and write a note on a post-it note.