guess who's back, back again. psycho's back, tell a friend. yo so i'm back with a whole new chapter and HOLY SHIT i love it so much. shit goes down. i hope you all like it and again sorry for the long wait... finals are coming. hope it's worth it though! okay now enough talking let's get to the good bit
Disclaimer: This story contains violence, gore, sexual content and strong language. Subjects covered might trigger some. If you are very sensible or easily offended, please abstain from reading.
Dan came back home before Phil. He went to his room emptied his backpack. He put the hydrogen peroxide back to the medicine cabinet, his penknife under his pillow but left the bike gloves in the bag. He grabbed the syringe and looked at it longingly.
"What do I do with you?" Dan said.
He shrugged his shoulders. He went to kitchen and threw it in the trash can, carefully hiding it under other rubbish.
Dan then retrieved his laptop and sat in the living room for the rest of the night. Phil came back three hours later, around midnight. He found Dan in the 'browsing position', as they both liked to call it, and he sat next to him.
"Hey." Dan greeted.
"Hey." Phil replied, ruffling his hair and taking his socks off.
"Had fun?"
"A whole lot!" Phil said. "I hadn't seen him in a while, it was good to hang out."
Dan nodded. Phil sunk into the sofa and exhaled.
"Did you go out or anything?" Phil asked. "Or did you sit on the sofa all day long?"
Dan inwardly giggled.
"Sat on the sofa all day long." He lied.
"As usual." Phil laughed.
He paused. Dan continued browsing without noticing his friend worryingly looking at him.
"Did you..." Phil began shyly. "Did you have daydreams? Or like... urges to harm yourself or go on a one-night stand?"
Dan turned to him. He stared deeply into Phil's eyes with an expressionless face. He knew he was just asking because he cared about him. And now that Dan had accepted the fact that Phil would always be there to make sure of his wellbeing, even though it was against everything Dan had ever wanted, he couldn't blame him for it.
"No." Dan lied again.
Phil took a deep breath and stood up.
"I'm glad." He smiled. "You know, Dan, if you feel the need to go on a one-night stand, you can always... you know... get off yourself... or-"
"I know how that works, Phil." Dan replied dryly.
"Yeah, I know." Phil said.
Dan simply glanced at him. He was wondering what Phil intended on adding after saying "or". They looked at each other awkwardly, until Phil decided to exit the living room. He was really worried for Dan, and he wished he could get inside his head to understand him and help him get better. But he knew that wasn't how life worked, so he resigned himself to asking Dan on a regular basis if he felt good, if he had daydreams, if he had urges to harm himself, urges for one-night stands or anything to talk about. Dan had already established that he didn't want Phil to get his nose in this, but he had also promised to talk to him if he needed. Phil was just helping him get it out. Anything to make Dan get better, he would do it.
Phil walked to the kitchen to grab a snack when he noticed the trash can was starting to get full. He sighed and concluded that if he didn't take it out right now, he wouldn't want to do it more tomorrow, neither would Dan. He tied the ends of the bag together and pulled it out the can. The bag swung slightly, brushing against Phil's leg.
"Ouch!"
He recoiled in pain, holding the bag away from his body.
"What the hell..." He whispered. Phil pressed a hand on his painful limb. "Something just stabbed me..."
He dropped the bag and analysed the side that had touched his leg. He saw a very thin metallic thing piercing through the plastic. Confused, he untied it and searched for the whole object inside the bag.
Phil's eyes widened with shock when he pulled a syringe out of the bag. His mind shut down for a second, and when he could control it again, he found only one logical explanation. Phil fumed with rage.
"DANIEL HOWELL!" Phil yelled, scurrying out the kitchen with the syringe in hand.
Dan, in the living room, heard Phil's voice just like he was next to him. His body tensed when Phil stormed in the room, his face red with anger.
"Can you explain to me what the hell that is?!" He exclaimed to Dan, waving the syringe in the air.
Dan's heart stopped beating. He had forgotten about the syringe in the trash can. How had Phil found it? Had he searched through the rubbish?!
"Uh..." was all Dan managed to get out.
"What is it!?" Phil screamed again, insistent.
"I don't know..." Dan lied.
Phil shook his head in disappointment and anger. He licked the inside of his upper lip and opened back his mouth.
"You've been lying to me since the moment I stepped in this room!" He fumed.
"No..." He lied again.
"Quit lying to me, Dan!" Phil stomped his foot. "A freaking syringe stabbed me when I tried to take out the trash! I'm pretty sure it wasn't there when I left!"
Phil was furious. He was staring straight into Dan's eyes, trying to get something out of him. Dan was petrified. Phil was rarely that angry. He didn't know what Phil thought of the syringe, but he knew he would find out very soon.
"I'm so... disappointed in you!" Phil said.
"What did I do?!" Dan defended himself.
Phil laughed humourlessly.
"Don't act like you don't know, Dan Howell, because I'm not finding this funny at all! Stop your little act! Right now!"
"Phil... I don't know what you-"
"DAN, SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Dan froze. Phil never swore. Ever. He only did when he was very, very angry. Phil's features were twisted with rage and his face had never been that red. Even though Dan didn't fear anything anymore and that killing innocent people was now something as easy as clicking his fingers, Phil didn't fail to scare the crap out of him.
"You've been doing drugs all this time?!"
There he went. Dan thought it was pretty much the only thing Phil could deduce from finding a syringe in their trash can. He didn't blame him. Once again, if this could lead Phil to a different path and take him away from the pattern, Dan was ready to dive straight in.
"Well... I..." Dan sputtered, acting like Phil's assumptions were true.
"I can't believe that all this time... Drugs?! Dan! Why on earth?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"Phil..." Dan whispered. "I... I just..."
"I'm so... angry!" Phil exclaimed. "I should've known! I remember clearly last week, you were sitting on that very sofa and you looked stoned as hell! And I even asked you if you were high, but I was obviously joking! I never thought you were actually..."
Phil paused. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself down. He saw the speechless and terrified Dan still sitting on the sofa.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Phil asked a bit too harshly.
"Why would I tell you?" Dan retorted. "Like, oh, Phil, I'm feeling incredibly depressed and I need something to numb the fuck out of my feelings so I do drugs!"
"That's exactly why!" Phil replied, his voice getting higher. "I could've helped you, I could've... I could've done anything to stop you from injecting whatever the hell that is inside your body!"
"Stop... just stop it..." Dan begged.
"Are you high right now?" Phil asked very seriously.
"No." Dan replied truthfully.
"Why would you even turn to drugs...?" Phil said, more to himself than to his friend. "I can't even believe..."
"Phil..." Dan spoke in a tiny voice. "Alright, okay, I admit it, I've been doing drugs for... quite a while now but, please, you've got to see the bright side of things! You found the syringe in the trash can! I'm trying to stop! I threw away my syringe, damn it, isn't this a good sign?! I'm trying to get better!"
"What tells me you don't have other syringes in your room?"
"I don't!" Dan whined. "Please, Phil, stop striving against me, I'm doing the best I can to get rid of this without having to go to rehab..."
Phil rubbed his forehead. He closed his eyes tightly, reflecting all of what had just happened. Phil wanted the best for Dan. He cared about him to bits, and since he had noticed the strange changes in his behaviour, he had made it his mission to help him through his tough times. His best friend doing drugs frustrated him a whole lot, but it was a part of Dan's struggle and he couldn't ignore it. He decided he would support him through whatever would happen, and help him stop his addiction.
Phil opened back his eyes and his features softened.
"Thank you for not lying to me, this time." Phil thanked.
Dan grinned lightly.
"We both know that I will always be by your side whatever happens, and even though I am very disappointed in what I just learned, I will support you through your procedures of getting better."
Phil sat down next to Dan on the sofa. They looked at each other for a while before Phil opened his arms and wrapped them around Dan's chest. He hugged him as hard as he could to show him that even though he was extremely angry, he still cared and loved him. Dan hugged him back, nuzzling his face in the hollow of Phil's neck.
"Thank you..." Dan simply breathed.
Phil finally let go and put a hand on Dan's shoulder.
"Don't ever, ever choose that kind of thing to numb your feelings ever again." Phil said with a calm tone. "Come talk to me, we live together, damn it, I'm always around, I'm always there for you!"
Dan simply nodded.
"Also, I'm very glad you admitted to being depressed." Phil smirked.
"Shut up..." Dan replied jokingly.
"The first step is acceptance, Dan..."
"No, Phil, really, shut up..." He said seriously this time. "It's not because you found my old syringe that you get to put your nose in my personal life... We agreed to not speak of it again."
Phil sighed.
"Are you bipolar too?" Phil retorted half-jokingly and half seriously.
"Phil, don't..." Dan began.
"Alright, let's not talk about it, let's not joke about it, let's not indirect it, let's pretend it's not there and that Dan is controlling everything perfectly!" Phil mocked.
"Yes." Dan agreed, going back to his laptop. "Why would anything have to be different?"
Phil didn't reply. He simply got up and headed to the door.
"I'm going to throw that in the rubbish outside to be sure you won't get it back." He said referring to the syringe.
"Good." Dan simply replied.
He went back to scrolling and typing and Phil stared at him. It made him sad how Dan just brushed off the subject and didn't want Phil to intervene at any moment. He felt like Dan was simply using him. Using him to numb his feelings, using him to forget the things he'd done, the thing he was doing... Phil was about a hundred percent sure the drugs, the one-night stands and the self-harm weren't the only things Dan was up to. There was something strange in the way he looked at him, in the way that he acted. Beyond the depression, beyond the sex, beyond the injuries and beyond the drugs, Phil could see something strange in Dan's eyes. Something extremely unusual. And it was that unknown, odd glimmer in his eyes that concerned Phil so much. There had to be other things. Whether Dan liked it or not, Phil would find out what they were.
Whatever that implied doing.
~
"He just never stops, does he?"
The click of Dallas' camera resounded a few times. The whole team, except from Tucker who was busy with the research teams, was once again reunited around another body.
"He's trying to get the job done to get to the prize at the end." Quest replied.
"Which is?" Zarah asked as she was leaning down on the body.
"Victory."
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the corpse.
"Do we have a name?" Quest turned to Wade.
"Her wallet was on the ground next to her. Favor Gallagher."
"Who found her?"
"Some guy. He called the police after he saw a body in the alleyway. He had left before we got here."
Quest nodded.
"That's really weird." Vincent said. "Apart from the bloody numbers on her cheeks, there doesn't seem to have any other external injuries."
"Look at her neck. There's bruises." Jesus pointed out. "It looks like burst veins. Dallas, snap that."
Another click.
"Where did she come from?" Quest mumbled to himself. "Where did she go?"
"It's about Favor Gallagher's murder, Quest, not Cotton Eyed Joe." Jesus replied, elbowing Vincent in the arm so he could laugh with him.
"Don't ever become a comedian, Jesus, people will run out the room." Zarah commented.
"We don't know yet." Vincent answered Quest's question. "You'll have to question relatives before. But, so far, it looks like she could've spent the night lying there. We'll know more when she'll be out of that alleyway."
Quest rubbed his stubble.
"You said the wallet was lying next to her on the ground?" He turned to Wade who nodded yes. "Zarah, did you seal it?"
"Yes." She replied. "I checked in it before I did and it doesn't look like she got robbed. Though, her IDs were easy to reach."
Quest walked out the alleyway and looked from left to right. He noticed the Underground station sign and walked back in.
"So we know for sure this is Alpha's work, she's got the marks." Quest began. "Usually, people will leave their wallet in their bag or in their purse or even in their pockets. Why was hers on the ground next to her?"
Nobody replied.
"Somebody else got a hold of it." Quest replied his own question.
"How?" Dallas asked.
"So far I have two theories. She either got it stolen and Alpha followed her, killed her then gave back the wallet, or, she dropped it and Alpha picked it up, had a look inside, then followed her and killed her."
"That was a quick assumption." Zarah pointed out. "Are you sure that's even plausible?"
"You said it yourself, Mello." Quest explained. "Her IDs were easy to reach. If Alpha needs a name to kill people, and we know that he doesn't choose them in advance, or at least can't unless the name is available, he most definitely had a look in her wallet. Alpha goes out and lurks around London until he meets his next victim. So he got a hold of Favor Gallagher's wallet, followed her and killed her. Back to my two theories; she got it stolen, or dropped it. Otherwise her wallet would've been in her pocket, don't you think?"
Zarah sighed.
"How the hell can you deduce so much out of so little?" She questioned, not really wanting the answer.
Quest didn't reply.
"Where did she drop it then?" She asked.
"Well, this alleyway is literally 10 meters away from an Underground station. She was either coming out of it or going in."
"Shall we take a look at the Underground's security cameras then?" Wade asked.
"Yeah." Quest nodded. "Call me if you find anything interesting in the meanwhile. Otherwise I'll come back tonight."
The whole team nodded as Quest and Wade left the crime scene. When they were far enough from the team, Wade opened his mouth.
"You do realize that we're not going to see Alpha more on those tapes that we did at the cinema, right?"
"We could maybe see something unusual." Quest replied. "And I still think that could've been Alpha back at the cinema."
Wade exhaled loudly.
"We have to be rational!" Quest exclaimed. "Carrie Drysdale and Dave Evans' murders don't match with the other ones! Unless Alpha has some magical powers and he sees who he'll kill next in some talking mirror and knows where they live by simply looking at them, then fine, it's not that guy back there! But Wade, I said it the other day; it doesn't make sense otherwise!"
"Okay, let's say, if you are right," Wade said, "if that guy back at the cinema was indeed Alpha, how would you prove it? How would you even find him?"
"There are still ten victims to come, Wade. Alpha's got plenty of time to make a mistake."
The both of them descended into the station. They walked up to the information desk where a man in his twenties greeted them. They did the usual procedure, showed their badges, explained they needed to see the tapes because it could help them in an investigation, and the man finally led them into another room and put a tape in the slot.
"I guess I can trust you guys with this." The man said. "I have to go back to my desk. Just come see me when you're done or if you need anything."
Wade and Quest nodded and the man left the room. Quest turned his head to the screen in front of him and grabbed the remote. He fast forwarded until 7:00.
"We don't exactly know when Favor Gallagher exited the station." Quest explained. "But as we saw before, Alpha kills when it's dark out. This might take a while."
They both pulled a chair out of under the desk and sat down. They both stared intensely at the screen, watching every person get in and get out the train. For the first hour, Favor Gallagher was nowhere to be seen. Wade was beginning to zone out as a headache seized him up slowly. Quest stayed still, his eyes not leaving the tapes.
Suddenly, Quest's arm went flying on Wade's body, waking him up from his light slumber. He pointed the screen with a slender finger after pressing pause.
"There she is." He told Wade. "She's running out the train."
Quest rewound and played it again for Wade.
"She looks like she's in a rush." Wade pointed out.
"Yeah." Quest agreed.
"It doesn't seem like anyone is following her, though." Wade continued.
"Wait, look!" Quest exclaimed.
A man rushed out the train and followed the same direction Favor had taken. The man was wearing his black hood on his head, so his face was unrecognizable. He had a backpack on his shoulders and his hands in his pockets.
"He's following her!"
"It doesn't really look like he's following her, Quest..." Wade replied. "He got out like a solid minute after her. Everyone's rushing to the exit."
Quest nibbled the inside of his cheek.
"I can't see what he does before getting out... Is this where Favor Gallagher dropped her wallet?"
"Most definitely." Wade replied.
"She's in a rush, could explain why she dropped it." Quest said to himself."
He paused.
"The man has the same black hood as the guy at the cinema."
"Yeah, like about 90% of the population!" Wade exclaimed. "Quest, you're a bit paranoid..."
"Wade, we're MI5 agents, isn't it like our duty to be paranoid about every little detail?"
"Touché," Wade said. He sighed. "Quest, look, you've been doing a really great job so far, but we're not getting anywhere right now. I'm your superior and I'm here to tell you if things are going downhill. Right now, if you keep lingering on black hooded men buying cinema tickets and rushing out Underground stations, Alpha's going to walk right under our noses and he'll get to the end without any of us knowing."
"As my superior, Wade, you should know that I have a pretty good feeling about black hooded men buying tickets and rushing out Underground stations. And also, as Alpha has been very meticulous in every crime, I can't do much else than suspect black hooded men. Oh, and I don't think there are a lot of six feet tall men wearing black hoods on their heads at the same place as victims of murder were last seen."
Quest bit harder on the skin of his cheek.
"Please, Wade, trust me..." He begged. "If he turns out to be Alpha in the end and we give up on him now you're going to eat your fingers. I've never had such a strong feeling before and you know I've done a lot of cases. If you let me find the station Favor Gallagher got in, check the security cameras and find the black hooded man there at the same time as her, will you let me count him as an official suspect?"
Wade looked at Quest longingly.
"Only if you see him in the cameras." Wade replied.
Quest beamed.
"Thanks." He printed himself a copy of Favor Gallagher exiting the station as well as a picture of the black hooded man running after her. "You won't be disappointed."
They left the secret room and visited every station of the line Favor Gallagher had taken. They viewed every security camera, estimating the time Favor Gallagher could've been there before she went on and arrived to the last station. It's about 6 stations later that luck smiled upon him.
They were analysing once again another tape when a black hooded men entered the station and leaned his back against the wall, waiting for the train to arrive.
"There!" Quest exclaimed, pointing at the black hooded individual. "There, that's him! That's the same guy! Same coat, same black hood, same jeans, same backpack!"
Wade squinted to have a better look at the guy.
"I guess, yes." Wade confirmed. "But where is Favor Gallagher?"
They both looked back at the screen as Favor Gallagher entered the station and waited in front of the black hooded man.
"There..." Quest whispered.
"She got there after the black hooded man." Wade pointed out. "If he wasn't following her, how did he manage to know her name to go and kill her?"
Quest paused.
"Her wallet." He replied.
"Where did she drop it then? In the train?"
"Probably. Tapes only show us what it can see. We didn't see her drop it nor the man pick it up on the video. But it most definitely happened; why would he run after her?"
Wade was silent. He was analysing the situation and the probability of Quest's assumptions. Quest's detective past was immaculate, he had always been right. He had always helped greatly in a case and had always investigated where others would give up or where they wouldn't even bother looking. In that moment, Wade remembered why he cherished Quest's talent so much and felt such a strong feeling of pride towards him.
He turned back at him and grinned.
"Count the black hooded man as a suspect." Wade said.
Quest smirked. He nodded his head gratefully and printed out screenshots of the video.
~
The sun was beating down Dan's window. His sleepy head rose from the pillow. He opened his eyes one by one. The warmth of his bed was comforting and prompting to fall right back asleep.
Dan was about to fall back on his pillow and slumber longer when Phil flew his door open.
"Good morning!" He almost yelled with his fists against his hips.
"Go away..." Dan moaned, pulling the duvet closer.
"Wake up, sleepyhead, it's a drug bust!"
Dan immediately straightened up on his bed. "What?"
"You sure thought I was going to buy your 'oh, I don't have anything else in my room', stuff." Phil said. "But I know you too well, Dan, you still have some stuff in here. And if you say you want to get better without going to rehab, well I'm going to do it well enough for you!"
Dan rolled his eyes and fell back on his pillow.
"I wasn't lying." He replied, yawning. "There's nothing else in here."
"Oh, I remember the other day when Pj was here you were very angry because you couldn't find your 'DS'. It was right next to you. It's obvious that you were looking for your drugs and that you didn't remember where you hid them."
Phil raised an eyebrow, looking at his friend still lying in bed.
"Whatever." Dan replied with a throaty voice, remembering the real reason why he was angry that night. "Knock yourself out."
After all, Dan didn't really have anything to hide from Phil in his bedroom... did he?
Phil started searching through Dan's stuff. In his drawers and under his bed as Dan nuzzled against his pillow and tried to go back to sleep.
As Phil started searching behind furniture, panic suddenly attacked Dan. He actually had things he preferred Phil not to see. The bike gloves... he didn't remember if they were bloody or not! The penknife under his pillow... the carving behind the painting above his head...
His eyes opened immediately. He gripped the duvet strongly and looked at Phil from the corner of his eye. He was leaning behind his piano. Dan bit his lip. He slowly, carefully reached out his hand under his other pillow, still staring at Phil from the corner of his eye. He was almost under it when Phil's body emerged from behind the piano and turned to him.
Dan's hand slid back under the duvet as fast as possible. They made eye contact and Phil continued his thing. "Shit!" Dan thought as Phil spotted his backpack on his chair.
He closed his eyes tightly, hoping to every God that could possibly hear his prayers that his gloves were clean. Phil zipped open the backpack and Dan held his breath. He shoved a hand in, and, carefully, pulled out the two gloves.
"Did you film your video with the gloves after all?"
Dan opened his eyes. Phil was holding the gloves in front of him. They were clean. Dan exhaled in relief. He looked back into Phil's eyes and replied:
"Oh, no, I tried but it didn't come out like I wanted."
Phil nodded and dropped the gloves back in the bag. Nothing else seemed to interest him inside so he moved on to Dan's closet. Dan's breath was heavy. He didn't risk it this time. He shoved his hand under his other pillow, grasped the penknife and quickly put in the back of his waistband.
"Oh God, it's a mess, no chance you hid anything in here!" Phil exclaimed, closing the closet doors.
He turned to Dan's bed, where Dan had closed his eyes again and tried to calm his breathing. Phil stared at the bed in silence as Dan waited for something to happen, his heart pounding.
Phil grabbed the corner of the duvet and pulled all of it off the bed. Dan quickly opened his eyes, shocked by the cold air suddenly whipping his bare skin. He was lying there in only his boxers and he looked up at Phil in confusion and disbelief.
"What the hell?" Dan exclaimed, hugging his chest to try and gain back the warmth.
"Who knows, maybe you're hiding stuff in your bed." Phil replied.
He grabbed Dan's other pillow and shoved his hand inside the case to make sure nothing was inside. He then stole the one Dan was lying against, provoking a "hey! That's mine!" to escape his friend's mouth. Phil did the same process and he found nothing. He passed his hands between the mattress and the bed base. Nothing. He straightened up and put his eyes back on Dan.
"Looks like there's nothing there." Phil concluded. "Unless you're hiding something in your pants." He smirked. "Should I search there as well?"
Dan gulped. He laughed nervously and managed to pull a smirk.
"Naughty." Dan simply replied.
Phil laughed and went on with his little investigation. Dan wiped his sweaty forehead and tucked the duvet back in. After a few minutes, Phil ended up his research.
"Well, looks like I was wrong." He announced. "There is nothing left in here. I'm very proud of you, Dan. You're really making progress."
"I told you." Dan grinned.
They stared at each other longingly. Dan saw Phil's eyes lower down on his exposed chest and felt a familiar heat wave crash upon him. Phil unconsciously bit his lip. He then seemed to come back to reality and stared back into Dan's eyes.
"Well... um... that was it..." Phil said with an uncertain voice.
Dan shook his head lightly, and Phil exited his room awkwardly. He was filled with mixed feelings and couldn't think straight. He pulled the penknife out of his waistband and put it back under his pillow. Dan wiped away the sweat on his forehead and turned on his front as his breath was becoming too heavy and blood was rushing to his cheeks, as well as other places.
~
The sun was settling down and Dan was getting anxious. He tapped his fingers nervously on the side of his laptop and bit the fingernails off his other hand. He hadn't killed in a while and it was starting to show. He had to kill.
Phil was sitting beside him on the sofa and had noticed his nervousness. He hadn't said a word yet, but was carefully watching him. Phil could evidently tell that Dan was in need of a fix. He hadn't done drugs of the whole day and he was pretty sure it was beginning to strike him down.
He finally decided to speak up.
"Are you okay?" Phil asked with the calmest tone he could give.
"Yes." Dan replied curtly.
"You look nervous." Phil pointed out.
"I'm not." Dan said harshly, tapping his fingers faster.
"Keep going like that, you're doing great." Phil smiled, going back to his own laptop.
Dan simply glanced at him. He closed his computer a bit too hard and stood up quickly. He headed to the door when Phil said:
"Where are you going?"
"I need air." Dan replied. "I'm... I need to breathe..."
He didn't wait for Phil's reply and left the room. He ran to his room and threw his backpack on his shoulder. He grabbed the penknife from under his pillow and shoved it down his pocket. He quickly put his shoes, his coat and his hood on before exiting the flat as fast as possible.
Theair out didn't seem get warmer at all. In fact, the February breeze was slowlywhipping to the core the proud souls walking the Earth. Dan was struggling to get air in his lungs. He took slow and long breaths. He had to find someone as fast as possible. He couldn't handle himself anymore. He had to kill and he wouldn't want to take out his violence on someone who isn't a part of the pattern. It would simply erase all of Dan's purpose.
He followed the pavement, not really watching where he was going. He knew his mind would lead him.
After a while, he took his phone out of his pocket to check the time. It was 8:23. He stopped walking for a second. A weird feeling crawled through his skin. He couldn't quite put his finger on what made him feel so uncomfortable, but finally brushed it off and kept going.
At the corner of a street, Dan stopped again. He looked to his left where a man was crossing the road to go to the Underground station. He ran straight up to him and kicked his foot directly in between the man's legs. He fell to his knees with a loud yelp, and Dan swung his foot directly into his stomach, and again, and again. The man finally collapsed to the floor. Dan felt the violence intensify inside of him. He tightened his fists with rage and clenched his teeth. He stepped on the man's face, kicking as hard as he could, to hear his nose break, see blood squirt out from under his shoe. He kicked and kicked again, unable to stop his ravaging violence. After mutilating the man's face for God knows how long, Dan smiled from ear to ear and stepped on his neck and put all of his weight on it. He heard the crack of every bone.
"Sixteen..." Dan gloomily smiled.
He jerked. Dan smirked to himself when he spotted the man crossing the road again. He went to put a foot in front of the other and follow the guy, but quickly changed his mind. Dan shivered. The same weird feeling was seizing him up. But this time, he could tell what the feeling was and his body instantly tensed up.
He felt watched.
His eyes opened wide and he exhaled sharply. Everything around him felt like it was in slow motion. He didn't know what to expect when he'd look behind. He tried to stay calm. Dan turned his head slowly and subtly, holding his breath. The pavement behind him was empty, except from a tall silhouette who desperately hid behind a phone booth when they noticed they had been spotted. The silhouette had hid too tardily, because Dan had already seen a glimpse of them.
Dan turned back his head as his heart started pounding and adrenaline rushed to his head. He looked back at the man crossing the road. His next victim.
Reluctantly, Dan took off his hood and walked in the opposite direction his victim was heading.
Behind the phone booth, Phil was breathing too heavily for it to be healthy.