[Normal P.O.V]
A few weeks later...
A lone man hid in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. It was dark, the stars and moon were hovering above the city, doing its best to shine down light. He held his automatic shotgun behind his coat as his ears twitched, trying to catch any trace of noise or sound. The alleyway is empty, not even a single bum in sight. It was cleared out. It was obvious something is going to go down. And that's what the man is waiting for.
He pulled his hood up over his jet-black hair to conceal his face, as well as the communicator in his ear. Just as he was saying it, the communicator in his ear beeped rather loudly, causing the man to hiss out in pain. He quickly pressed the call button and rolled his eyes.
"What is it, Windshear?" the man groaned out.
"They're coming. Three o' clock." a woman's voice replied from the other line.
The man's gaze shifted to his right, where sure enough, a group of men were huddled together and walking towards the alleyway. Gangsters... It was a fairly large group of twenty men, all wearing trench coats and black fedoras. The mission was to extract information from the caravan and send a message to the mafia. Right now, they're going to have to do the second part.
It doesn't take a genius to figure out that all of them has a hidden weapon under their coats. The man smirked at the thought. He loved a good challenge. But he needed to be patient. So he kept quiet and listened to the conversation from the group of men.
"Hai sentito parlare del Demon Killer?" One of them asked in a hushed tone.
"Sì. Il capo non vuole essere dalla sua parte cattiva. Quindi stiamo cercando di trovarlo." Another replied.
The gangster in front of them turned around and frowned. "Dove hai sentito quelle storie folli?"
"Non sono pazzi, fratello! Ho sentito l'uomo alzarsi dall'inferno stesso per punire coloro che hanno peccato..." He replied cautiously.
"Non indossa maschera e uccide senza pietà!" One of them added.
"Parla la lingua del diavolo e sussurra sempre una preghiera ogni volta che uccide."
The man hiding in the shadows frowned. He didn't take any Italian lessons so he has no idea what they're talking about. Luckily, the person on the other line of his communicator could. He presses the call button and the person picked up instantly.
"Do you hear this?" He asked.
"Y- yeah..." His partner stuttered out. "It's nothing important but..."
"But what?"
"They're talking about a Demon Killer. They said that they believe it's a demon sent from hell and speaks the devil's tongue. Yet, it whispers a word of prayer after each victim he kills."
The man frowned at the story. If what they're saying is true, this could a major problem. He needs to report this or else this story might end up true. "We'll handle about it later. For now, it's time for action." He said firmly before shutting the communicator off.
He pulled out his shotgun, and loudly cocked it on purpose. This got the gangsters' attention and when they saw the man emerge from the shadows, they panicked and pulled out their hidden weapons.
Bullets flew recklessly across the alley, hitting the wall as the man skillfully dodged the rain of fire while being able to release a good amount of shells, successfully taking down a few of them. Blood spilled from ones who were hit, crumpling to the ground as their life were slowly being seeped out.
With the numbers being reduced, he lunged forward, sweeping under their feet and breaking their huddled group. He grabbed one of the men's gun and redirected it to another, accidentally shooting him. But before he could respond to the shock, he kneed him in tbe abdome, knocking the wind out of him.
Three of the gangsters stalked behind in order to get him in his blind spot. They wouldn't kill him yet. He was worth more alive than dead. But the man wasn't worried. In fact, he knows that they were worthlessly sneaking behind him. But he paid them no mind. Because he knows that his partner got his back.
Speaking of the devil, a gunshot was heard from far away. The man smirked as he heard the bullet zipped through the air and pierce through two of the gangsters' skulls. The third flinched away as he saw his companions drop to the ground with holes in their heads.
Another gunshot rang through the air and before the third gangster could step away, the bullet lodged itself into his eye and flew out at the back of his skull, along with a spurt of blood. The man then uses this opportunity to kick the two men he was handling and shoot a shell from his shotgun, effectively blowing a hole in their chests. Blood stained the walls behind them, as their body slowly slid down to the ground.
The man chuckled lightly at how easy the mission was. But a nagging thought in his head that something wasn't right. But before he could figure what it was, his communicator beeped.
As he pressed it, his partner immediately ranted through the call. "Shawn, watch your six!" She warned him in a worried tone.
Trusting his partner's words, he cocked back his shotgun and scanned his surroundings. That's when he noticed that almost all of the gangsters laid sprawled on the ground, dead. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight. He only remembered taking down eight. Could his partner have killed them all? No, it wasn't possible. He heard only two gunshots. Two gunshots won't be enough to kill twelve men. So there must be another man who helped him. But so far, he saw no one.
He lowered his shotgun, and removed his finger off the trigger. But he still didn't lower his guard.
"Heather, there's no one here. What did you see?" Shawn asked, his eyes wandering around the alley.
"I- i don't know. I just saw the gangsters' getting pulled away from above, one by one. Then their bodies would fall down, dead." Heather replied from the other line.
Shawn frowned. He didn't hear anyone fall down. Maybe he was too busy dealing with the others. He slowly walked towards the ones he knows that he didn't kill and examined them.
He grimaced at the sight. Their eyes were wide open, but it was obvious they were dead. A permanent horrified expression painted on their faces. Shawn leaned closer on one of the body and frowned.
The lifeless body had a total of seventeen cuts. There were four on his chest, which was now spilling blood out of the skin. Two more cuts were on his abdomen in a crossed slice. Two long cuts were on the forearms, allowing the wounds to open widely. One was on his head, which looked more like a stab wound. Probably from a knife. It may also be the finishing blow since it was the only way for the man to have his eyes open like that.
One more was across his neck, which was deep and clean enough to slice through the trachea. Three cuts were on either legs, exposing the red bloody flesh inside to spill out. It was truly gruesome. And the last one was on...
Shawn's eyes bugged out as he turned away, his face green and the burger he ate two hours ago threatened to come back up his mouth. Probably the worst one, a man could experienced. He swallowed a gulp as he checked the others. Just as he expected, the same cuts were on the other bodies. His outsole of his boots were now caked with dark red blood from all the bodies laying there on the ground.
"What do you see, Shawn?" Heather asked from the other line.
"Bodies..." Shawn whispered out.
"I can see that, Shawn." She replied sarcastically. You could practically hear her, rolling her eyes. "But you're staring down at them longer than usual. What do you see?"
"It's strange and disgusting. The bodies have seventeen cuts all over them." He replied in a serious tone. "The killing blow was on the head."
"So, are we dealing with a serial killer here or what?"
"No, the one who did this is smart. He hit the legs first. The patella. To stop them from flailing around. Then the arms. Same reason." Shawn muttered out as hr analyzed the body even further. "Then he went for the chest and abdomen. He deliberately didn't cut deep enough to kill him instantly. Then he went for neck, cutting of his air supply and vocal chords."
"Then last is in the head. Finally killing him. Gods, that's awful. I could picture it already." Heather muttered in a horrified tone. "Who could have done this?"
"My guess? It's the Demon Killer. The gangster talked about him as if they encountered him personally. And if they did, then this Demon Killer must be after them."
"It must be after them because one of the gangsters said that they witnessed him killing."
"So, this Demon Killer doesn't want witnesses?" Shawn whispered out.
"Shawn, get out of there. Now!"
"I'm on my way..." Shawn nodded as he held up his shotgun and turned around to leave. But he froze.
Just right there, in front of him, is a shadow of a tall man standing upright. He couldn't see his face or what he was wearing, but from the looks of it, he looked like he was wearing a cloak over his neck . The darkness concealed almost every detail about him. But from what he could see, the man had fairly long and wild hair, and a lean, well built figure. Shawn pumped his shotgun and aimed it the man. Even if this guy helped him, he is still considered dangerous.
"Wh- who are you?" He cried out in a shaky voice. No matter how hard he tried to hide his fear, in the presence of this man, it scared him shitless. The whole aura of the man radiated danger and death. But, he wants to give him a chance.
But the tall figure didn't respond, nor did he move. Shawn's finger was off the trigger because he didn't trust his instincts for the moment. Everything in his body screamed to shoot him yet he needed to keep his fear in check. Shooting an unknown man will only aggravate him. If the past Shawn was here in his place, he probably would have unloaded the shotgun at the man while screaming like a harpy. But five years had passed, and he learned to improve himself. So, he will follow what he was taught to do.
"Identify yourself!" Shawn yelled out in a more confident voice. "If you won't respond, I will have to resort to shooting you. You have five seconds!"
Still, the man did not respond. He merely stood there, unmoving. Shawn wasn't even sure if the man was real. For all he knows, it could be a cardboard cutout that someone placed there. But no. He could see the hair on his head moving against the wind and the cloak on his neck slightly flowing in the air. His chest was rising and descend, indicating that he was breathing.
Five seconds was up, and the man still hasn't moved. Shawn cursed under his breath. He didn't really want to shoot him but if he has too, then he'll have to do it. His finger slowly moved towards the trigger, and hovered slightly above it. He was giving the man one last chance. If he talks now, then he won't shoot.
He waited for three more seconds, before deciding. His hand gripped on the handle as his finger now held the trigger. He narrowed his eyes and pulled it.
BANG!!!
SHICK!!!
Shawn's breath hitched in his throat. He had fired the gun, yet he didn't feel it hit anything. But that was the least of his problems. His hands grew weak under the weight of the gun and allowed it slip off, clattering across the ground. Pain flared up in his chest, like a million needles stabbing in his heart. He looked down shakily as he saw the iron handle of the knife protruding out of his heart. He sucked in another breath, burning his lungs with a ferocity that consumed him. He could feel his heart beating weakly against my rib cage, even with the metal blade digging in his flesh, slowing every second.
Realization dawned on him, he was going to die. He tried to move my chest, tried to suck in air, but none came. His vision started to fade. But not before he could see the man step out of the shadows. He couldn't even respond to it. It was too late. His body was failing fast
Then soon, his heart stopped. His mind gave one final sigh. Then he felt nothing. Nothing at all. Darkness. Black... as his lifeless body crumpled to the ground.
Green...
That's what he saw before the darkness overtook him.
..........................................
Heather pondered on whether she should check it again. She halted in the stairs, contemplating on whether she should go back and scan the scene. Somewhere in her heart, something felt wrong. Like she was about to miss something.
She was about to take another step when she hesitated. It won't hurt anyone to go back. Shawn could probably wait for a few more minutes. So grabbed her silver gun case and ran back up the stairs. She opened the door to the roof and walked towards the edge of the roof. She placed her case down, and snapped the clasps open, along with the cover. She grabbed her sniper rifle, and fitted the scope back on bolt.
Her eyes wandered to the bullets. She shrugged and took four, just in case she actually found something. She pulled the magazine, and loaded the bullets. Shoving the magazine back, she slammed her sniper rifle on the wall, and looked over at the scope, scanning the area once again.
She examined each corner and ground for any trace of suspicious activity. Finding none, she went over to the bodies. That's when she frowned at. There was an extra body, sprawled over the ground, which was much farther than the other bodies.
She placed another lense on the scope to see if she can identify who it is. But when she got a good look, she recognized him. Her eyes snapped wide open as a gasp escaped her lips. She left the gun and frantically oressed her communicator.
"Shawn. Are you there?!" She cried out.
No response.
"Shawn. This isn't funny! Respond!" She tried again, to no success.
She cursed under her breath. Her partner and friend is gone. Her hand clenched into a fist as it pounded itself on the concrete ground. "Fuck!" She cursed out.
With a sigh, she stood back up and looked back over at the sniper rifle. Maybe she could find a clue on whoever did this. So she took a look back at the scope, and examined the body. Her scope has limits to what she could see, but it was enough. She found a knife protruding out his dead friend's chest. Her lips scowled in disgust at the mention of his death. She swore to find whoever did this. So she placed another lense and zoomed in on the knife's handle.
At the sight of the knife, her eyes went wide. Her hands trembled and her breath came out as shaky. She immediately jumped away from edge of the building, dropping her gun as muttered under her breath.
"No, no, no, it can't be..."
Then she froze. She didn't know why, but a sudden rush of fear slipped into her. Her heartbeat quickened as fast as a racecar. Her feet refused to leave her position, and it took all of her strength to turn around. Twisting her body around, she gazed over behind her.
Upon seeing him, her skin suddenly turned as white as chalk. Her eyes and her mouth were frozen wide open in an expression of stunned surprise. She couldn't believe it. A mix of emotions filled her, and each one were unable to replace the shock in her face. Her body trembled at the sight as the strength in her body left almost instantly. The word slowly climbed up her throat, and she used the last of her strength to utter the name.
"Ha—"
But she wasn't even able get it out as she felt the cold, sharp feeling sinking into her abdomen. Pain sears through her abdomen worse than a branding iron, her mind conceding to the torment, unable to bring a thought to completion. Her knees buckled as they sank into the hard concrete ground. Blood rose in her mouth, spilling down her lips. She coughed once, and more blood rushed out her mouth.
Her hands flew to her mouth to stop the blood. Her eyes trembled as she saw a shadow looming over her. Words failed to get out of her as his green glowing eyes stared down at her.
Knowing she was going to die, she took this time to drink in the change over the years. He had a wild look, but a deadly and silent aura. She could no longer read him as she used to. His lean body received more muscles, giving him a strong and tough figure. Streaks of black was mixed in his usual long auburn-hair, as if it were burnt. His broad shoulders were hunched over with a green cloak draped over them. His dark red shirt was wrinkled and unruly, as well as his trousers. His boots were worn out and holes were present in the shaft. Her wandered to his waist, where a series of razor-sharp knives were strapped on his belt.
But the most shocking of all, is that a single emotion lingered in his face. Confusion. It's as if he doesn't know what was happening.
"H- Hayden..." She was able to choke out.
Said man stiffened at the name. His feet began moving, stepping forward and walking behind her. She craned her neck to see where he was going but it sent pain down her body. He knelt down behind her, shivering ss she felt his breath on the back of her neck. Then, she felt his arms wrap around her neck from behind her. His forearm held her throat while his other held the her left temple with his forearm on her forehead.
Fear overwhelmed her body and every nerve in her brain told her to get out or move. Yet, she refused to fight back. Tears stream down her cheeks, her whole face shook with fear. Her upper body and shoulders wrack with every sob that forces their way out, chest rising and falling unevenly as she gasps for breath. She wanted to live, yet her body refused to move.
"H- Hayden... p- please don't d- do this... H- Hayden..." She whimpered out.
He stayed motionless, but the grip on her neck and head never lightened. His face was expressionless as his eyes gazed out in the sky.
After receiving no response, her sobs grew even louder. "H- Hayden! Please..." She cried out.
At this point, she knew there was nothing else she could do. This was not the man she used to know. She could see her life flashing before her eyes. A single regret lingered in her head. Something she wished she said a long time ago. Her face flashed in her head, smiling that brilliant grin she loves. Heather allowed one last smile to curve up her lips.
"I- I love you... Cami—"
Her words were cut off as he forced his arms to the side, snapping her neck with a crack. Her eyes rolled the back of her head as the spine connecting her body and brain was broken. Once his arms left her neck, her body slumped down to the ground, dead. He stared at the body for a few more seconds before standing up and walking away. His steps, however slowed down until he came to a complete halt. He turned around once again and frowned at the lifeless body of the raven-haired girl. His mouth opened, and voiced out the question that bounced in his head ever since he faced her.
"Who's Hayden?"
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Fin. Yes, this is the real one. Thank you again for reading this story. I'm so glad my first fanfiction story turned out as a success. Anyways. Thank you again! Peace!