-Killian-
It's been a week since my little act, the lab was turned back to normal but the loss of a dear colleague and friend could still be felt. I admit, I quite enjoyed Jackson's presence. He was a good man, I was having second thoughts on killing him. Who would dare kill an innocent man such as him?
I sure didn't, at first of course. When he suspected me, I thought to myself I wouldn't care. However, I then realized what would happen if he were to expose me. I'd go to prison, I could deal with that. What I couldn't deal with, was loosing my Emma and the rush of killing others.
I can't breathe the air this earth provides me, knowing I could loose my dear Swan and no longer feeling the rush of death in my hands. The taste of blood, the feeling of a man's life held by a string and I am the one to cut it with my teeth. Oh, how I've missed it already. A week, that's all I could handle. No, it's all I can handle. I need blood, I need to feel a man struggling to live between my hands. I want it, I want it, I want it!
Alone, in our room. Emma at work, and I stuck within the confines of our own home. I wasn't locked in, I just didn't see a reason to get off my ass until now. She still believes I need my rest, but that's far from what I need. I need the rush of death. I looked at the clocking, it reading 6:27pm. Is she doing double shifts or just staying longer? Is she out? She better not be at some club. Where is she? I must know!
I abruptly stopped, my train of thought at a screeching halt. I merely laughed at myself, "I look at me..." I smiled, "Here I am thinking on leaving my own home to kill yet I am more concerned if my Swan is in safe hands." I mentally smacked myself, why wouldn't she be safe? If she can handle a man like me she can handle anyone.
I stood up from bed, opening our closet. It was divided, one half belonging to Emma the other mine. I kept all my toys in a safe place, something I built.
When Emma and I were an official couple living in this wonderful condo, it was her day for work and my day off. Using my time, I decided to build myself a safe. Cutting a hole into the wall, and putting a safe there. The safe would be hidden behind a neat pile of my boxers and shirts on one of the shelves. If Emma were to look through my closet, she absolutely hated the idea of just looking at my boxers. If was as if boxers was her greatest fear. Throw a clean pair at her she'll avoid it and burn it like the plague.
I moved my neat pile of clothes aside, and grinned finding my safe still untouched, and clean. I punched in the code, and being the sucker I was the password was 5 4 5 5 4 2 6. With the successful sound of a ding, the door popped open.
Regina was correct on some parts, the guns the killer owned did come in a two. What she didn't know, was I had many pairs of those guns. I must thank Mr. Gold, my dear dealer. I will punish him for revealing the killer's weapon came in twos, but I will spare him for not telling her he didn't manufacture dozens of them as well as kept my identity as a secret.
In my safe, we're various black and white guns of the same. Not only that, but a small bottle of chloroform and some leather gloves. A lighter, to mark my prey and burn their skin to form a beautiful sword. At the very back, and for my pleasure, a crowbar. I have not killed in a week, I suppose a crowbar would suffice. Now satisfied I took my two guns, the gloves, a lighter, the crowbar, and a knife from the kitchen.
---
It was late, roughly seven thirty. I didn't have my phone on me, nothing valuable for that matter. One day, someday I will indeed have a victim that will put up a fight that could ruin me. They will die, but they might die with evidence. They could've picked my wallet as I strangled them, my watch, my phone. Anything that will always have my prints on them. So, I made a plan that has work's me wonders for the past five years.
I would choose targets, the easy ones of the tough ones. For the easy I'd wear my work boots, baggy jeans and a thick black hoodie twice my size so I could hide my weapons inside. If I was targeting people of status, and wealth I'd act to be as if I was at their level. I'd go more classy with my black dress pants and shoes, maybe my black, red or silver satin dress shirt. If they were the classic gold diggers or sluts, I might as well entertain them with a few buttons loose.
As of tonight, it was random. I didn't care who my target was, all I wish for tonight was some bloodshed. So I went out of code, wearing a police uniform I stole from when on my killing spree a few months ago. I didn't kill for fun that night, I simply needed his uniform. He was being an ass, so I took it by force. Killing him by slicing his neck. I took his body, and went over a few states to dump his body at an abandoned beach. Buried it, then left.
I wore the uniform proudly, the baggy sweater over it to hide the crowbar. The knife in its case in my pocket, and placed the guns in the belt. Funny, my weapons are exposed to the public as I walked down the street and not a single person suspects a thing.
I stopped at the opening of an alley, pulling out a cigarette. I didn't smoke, so I just placed it between my teeth. My eye were like a hawk, looking around the road and shops to see for any targets. In a city like this, and me with this uniform? Men might not be easy to attack, but maybe women.
I stood around for a good ten minutes, and I was starting to give up. That was, until I saw an old lady exiting a jewelry store holding a small, light looking bag and taking the alley route. She had many wrinkles, but despite that she looked less that fifty, ish. Hm, maybe I'll ask?
I threw my cigarette to the ground, stomping down on it as I crossed the street. I didn't want to look like a stalker, so I went to the store beside the jewelry store. I did buy something, a small Swiss Army knife, and put it into my pocket. I old the cashier to kept the change, as well as the receipt.
Upon leaving the shop I quickly went for the alley, relieved she was still walking. She was old, why wouldn't she? She was in the centre, and of course she'd suspect me as some robber if I was to offer her any help or anything. So I sneakily followed her in quiet steps, hiding behind dumpsters whenever she turned around to see if someone was following her. I don't know why I was targeting her, but something about her just makes me feel like I have seen her before. It was a s if, we'd met. But where?
She made the wrong decision to turn around when I was five feet away from her. When she turned her head, I went quickly in front of her and ran ahead of her. I will scare her. She was no longer in front, now I was. I hid behind a dumpster twenty feet away, and my smile only grew wider and more sinister as she came closer. I quickly pulled out a rag from my pocket that was dipped in chloroform. The second I saw her, I ran for it.
"Wha th-" the woman exclaimed, but cut her off as I put it over her mouth and she was knocked out like a light. Now, I only needed the chloroform to knock her out so I can take out and set up my toys. I didn't put a lot on the rag, which' only give me roughly about three to five minutes.
Putting her body to the side, I pulled out all the tools I needed for my fun to begin. There were some tools I needed but weren't in the safe, such as bullets and an empty water bottle. I can't have a gun without rounds that's just stupid. The bottle, it was for my own personal use. I took out my lighter, and pulled up the ladies shirt. God, she was old. She might've had the body back in the day but all I see are flabs. Slightly disgusted, I continued on my work and bringing the slighter to her skin.
I was nearly done the burn mark until I noticed her fussing around. Oh fuck, she's going to wake up and I don't have anymore chloroform! I quickly took the knife and sliced her arm deeply, unscrewing the cap of the bottle and letting the blood drip inside. I can't satisfy my hunger if she's dead, he blood and flesh would be of no use to me. I quickly squeezed her arm and put pressure on it as fast as I could, draining all I could get. I still had my gloves on, so my prints were no worry. My face however, I don't wear masks. I like to know that my face is the last my victims will ever see before they die.
The bottle was now filled to the brim with her blood, and I quickly closed the cap and shoved the bottle into the pocket of my sweater. I grabbed all my stuff, leaving the crowbar. "Bloody hell...I guess I must fetch it later." Before I could run off, I heard the cocking sound of a gun pointing to me.
"Hold it asshole, I don't know who the hell you are but I swear I will blow your head off if you don't turn around." The woman sounded strong, an arguer is who I caught? Well, this might be easy. Carefully, I hid my belongings as I took off my sweater, revealing the cop uniform under it. I used the sweater as a way to hide my stuff, and I turned around to look at her.
"Miss, I was only doing my job. I found you in an unconscious state, and my partner is at the bar not too far." I said, "I promise you. No harm will come to you. Just, put the gun down and we can talk..." By far, other than my Swan and my thirst for blood I loved my acting skills. She quickly believed me, and lowered her gun back into her pocket, a look of guilt over her face.
"Oh my, I am so sorry! I thought you were the man that knocked me out! Where is he, anyway?" She looked down both sides of the alley, not a single other being around. I replied, "No clue, I just got here. You were already on the ground in blood. Um, not to make you uncomfortable but what is that on your stomach? Sorry, but your shirt's lifted up."
She looked down to wear I pointed and winced as she tried to touch her burns, "I-I...no! No that can't be! That madman doesn't let his victims live!" She huffed, looking at me, "Do you know who just did this to me? That stupid Swordsman killer!" I was surprised, a woman as old as herself with major blood loss and still putting up a fit?
"Ma, I suggest you stay calm." I walked up to her, still holding my sweater in a bundle to hide my weapons I intended to use to kill her, "Any more of that talking of yours and the moving around you'll die before you even cross the street. Come, my partner and I will take you to the hospital immediately, you need help to your injuries."
The women put away her gun, sighing as she walked towards me, "Guess you're right, where's your police car?" She walked ahead of me, and I took this as my chance. I carefully placed down my belongings to make sure she didn't suspect anything from the sound of tools dropping to the ground. My stuff on the ground, all I had in my hand was the knife. I caught back up to her, us merely a foot apart as she walked towards where we first entered the alley.
"Hey, the bar is right there but there's no police car. Where is it?" She turned around, and the second she did I tightly gripped her arm with the blade to her neck. She squirmed in my arms, trying to free herself but there was no use. She reached for her gun, but I knocked it out of her hand.
"You're no police officer..." she snapped, "your the same man that tried to kill me. You are that serial killer, Satan's Swordsman!" I didn't loosen my grip onto her, but grinned ear to ear, "Congratulations lass, you are the first to have ever lasted more than a minute and still have a heart. Well, too bad it will be gone in a few minutes." I lowered the blade from her neck, and the tip of it against her heart. To prove I was not kidding, I slowly and gently drove it into her chest. I nicked her chest, the blood oozing out her boldly like a waterfall, but very slow. She didn't show pain whatsoever, surprisingly.
"I should know the name of my prizes." I smirked, "What's your name? I'm sure you were an idol back into your day, but all you are now is a sack of wrinkles with rubber flabby skin." She didn't cry, she didn't plead for mercy nor her life, she just stared at me, and said, "Cora."
"Cora, you say?" I repeated the name out loud, "That is such a...disgusting name. Especially for someone as horrid as you."
"Don't call some old lady that, you'll never know when they have something up their sleeve!" I didn't even have the time to realize it. It was too fast, unnoticeable. She had pepper spray on her. I loosened my grin on her enough to let her reach into her damn purse! I'm a bloody idiot!
She sprayed my eyes, and wailed in pain. I rubbed my eyes, and the second they opened I saw her run off. My anger got hold of me, and I reached for my sweater and found my gun. I had great aim, best in the force. I have never missed my target. To kill them, maybe. To at least hit them? Oh, I always will. I raised my gun up, pointing it to Cora with a clear shot. However, my eyes were red and tears were still blocking my vision. This shot, this one will be on pure luck.
I aimed, and fired. The sound of the bullet quite, for I had a silencer on it. After taking the shot, I rubbed my eyes and saw that her body was on the ground. I smiled, but the smile turned to flames of anger when I saw her get up. What? Did I shoot her arm? Shoulder? What did I shoot?! Blood was stained on her clothes. She had on dark attire, but I could clearly see it as it dropped off onto her hand. "Arm it is then." I said, "She won't get far, probably will but I highly doubt she will do anything other than go to a hospital."
---
I walked back home that night, the bottle of blood in my hand as I went through the lobby and up the elevator. No one bothered to ask why I had my sweater stained red, my cover was a Paint Contractor. I would be hired to reprint people's rooms and redesign painted ceilings. Even with that type of cover, not one dared to ask why my clients always wanted red paint. Well, my clients never really wanted the red paint, so I simply use their bodies and produce the red paint myself with a knife and bottle.
I walked to my condo on the 14th floor of the twenty storey building, number 7 3 3. Upon opening the door, I saw Emma on the couch watching Dexter. She looked up to see who opened the door, and smiled to see me. "Killian your back! I tried to call you but you didn't bring your phone. I asked David and William where you were but they didn't know either." She wrapped her arms around my waist, and I chuckled patting her head and my hand brushing through her golden locks.
"Sorry Swan, my coverup job as a bartender is never really that easy." I smiled, "There were a few fights today, I had to deal with them myself." I hated lying to Emma, it burned to the core. Lying to our neighbours and anyone else we knew was easy. But, Emma? No no no, it's almost near impossible. I told my friends and neighbours I was a Paint Contractor, but told Emma I was a bartender. She will realize I lied to her that it was my coverup job, and might find out I don't even have one. It's just me at the department during the day, and a serial killer at night. I didn't see a reason to get another job, it'd be a waste of my time and give me less time to kill.
Emma went to the kitchen to cook up a quick meal for me, since she knows my coverup job can be tiring. I wasn't tired however, I was pissed. In all my years of killing people, that hag was the first to escape! I went to our room and carefully put everything into the safe and locked it back up. Leaving the room, Emma was already on her way walking towards me with a plate of food.
"Medium rare steak, just the way I make'em." She replied, handing me my food along with the fork and knife. I preferred blue, but she said that the closest I'll ever get from her to that was medium rare. I didn't argue, I mean it wasn't that normal for someone to like blue rare steaks. She turned to the kitchen, and without her looking I poured the woman's blood I kept in the bottle and drizzled a light layer of blood all over the steak. That way, no blood would drop off from the sides.
"Here's your barbecue sauce, I totally forg-" She held the bottle of barbecue sauce in her hand, but when she saw the red liquid poured on top she asked, "I swear a steak is supposed to be brown, whys it red?" I looked down, then back at her, "I flipped it over, did you cook it on one side?"
"N-No, I don't think so." She shook her head, "Did you do something to that steak before I pulled it out of the fridge? I don't want you or me to get sick."
"Emma darling, I won't get sick from eating the rare side of a steak." It wasn't rare, I'm sure anyone could tell. A medium rare steak looks like steak but when human blood is covered in it? It's a medium rare steak that tastes like blood it's not that hard. "Besides, I'm the one eating this not you so you can calm down." Emma knew I was right, so she turned on her heels and back to the couch.
The word count is 3372 words NOT including this A/N at the end of the chapter. I'd say, that is quite the achievement for me. :)