Ten minutes. That's when the wail of the ambulance broke through the silent corridor of the motel room. It had taken the enforcer about five minutes to take down Akira-not surprising him in the least, since the enforcer was Tera Reed the former Blood Packers leader by his record. His green eye lazily watching as the Inspector came in and arrest the boy before paramedics took the woman and him out. The cameras he set up were still unseen surprisingly.
The Inspector seemed to have seen his art of the angelic woman flying to heaven.
Or hell, whichever she went too didn't matter after all. She was dead now, gone forever.
The white haired inspector walked through the door with the motel manager-if only he knew what he had been getting into, then maybe he wouldn't be having a dead body to deal with. He blinked, before leaning back into his chair, relaxing. they still hadn't checked the room just yet, so it was possible that he may not need to leave.
Supposedly, until he noticed the Black haired Inspector start to wander to the hallway. A brief sigh. Looks like he had to get rid of him if he came in. Reaching into his pocket, he drew a single silver revolver, before loading in the bullets. It had taken quite some time to get the items to make this gun. Especially the bullets.
Instead of the long drawn out pain he wanted, he'd have to make it quick and fatal. Too bad, he always indeed like the blood. he wondered briefly what he could make art out of that man's body, but banished it quickly. He didn't like using men. Their bodies were to muscular, compared to the supple body of a woman.
Yes, a woman would be far greater.
His thought was gone, as he heard the footsteps sound near the door. There was no caution at all. A frown creased his lips slightly under the black mask. Well, that won't be good for him. He almost slightly pitied the poor man who knew nothing of his fate as he opened the accursed door.
He watched the gold knob turn, signalling an intruder. He lifted the gun, and as soon as the door opened to its new person, the trigger was pulled, aiming directly for the heart...Unfortunatly, the Inspector had faster reflexes then he expected, as he dodged slightly to the left.
He didn't have time for another shot. After all, the gunshot echoed throughout the room. The inspector didn't yell. Scream. Or even grunt in pain, though his face contorted in pain, as he stumbled backwards clutching at his wound. Without a sound, the Artist quickly shot the glass of the motel room, before jumping out where a car was already waiting. He opened the door, and spoke a single word.
"Drive."
The car took off through the back entrance, easily avoiding the ambulance and police veichles. Oh well, that was enough fun for today.
Where would his next pawn be?