The Rise of The Nightmare » Places

         

His side burned. That damn scientist. He'd made the fatal mistake of underestimating him. Not only had he managed to get to his gun, but he'd managed to hit him even with an injured shoulder. His pathetic excuse of a human that he had been forced to choose as his assistant had almost botched up the sutures for the wound. As if he hadn't probably done enough damage trying to remove the bloody bullet.

It's been three days. I need fresh blood. He winced at the harshness of the voice, but it was enough. The craving began to engulf his body, until he couldn't contain it any more. "FRANKLIN! Where are they?" He barked. Franklin flinched and hit a few keys on the keyboard. "Target 1 is still at the station, sir. 2 is at 3's apartment, and 4 and 5 are outside 1's house. 6 is at home alone, however, sir." Yes. Her. You've seen the way Martel looks at her. It will kill him. It will make him an easier target. He is already compromised by the attempt on that scientist kid.

He dragged himself over to the medicine cabinet and found a bottle of morphine. He filled the syringe and slid it into his arm, sighing as the relief spread through his veins. "Franklin, we're almost out of morphine. By the time I get back, I expect there to be more."

He shoved some essentials into a bag and headed out, his heart pounding. The voice was happy, making his heart beat a little faster and a smile curl up the corner of his lips. The drug had made it a little easier to walk, enough so that he could hide the pain. It was starting to wear off as he got to the house, but that wasn't a bad thing. It made his mind a little sharper.

He winced as he knelt down and produced the tools necessary to pick the lock for her front door. It took him under a minute, and he was in. He pulled on one of the very suits that they wore at crime scenes, a nice taste of irony. He pulled on a pair of neoprene gloves. He'd made the mistake of wearing latex gloves before, and his hands had been sore for weeks after.

He could hear her voice, cooing like it was talking to a baby. A cruel idea occurred to him, and he smiled as he pulled on a surgeon's mask.

She looked up as he appeared at the door, and he raised his gun. Before she could scream, he hit her in the ribs, where he had been hit. Then the stomach, and then again in the stomach. None of them were a kill shot, but she was going to die. Just in time for Martel to find her. The baby was screeching, but he tuned it out. He'd been forced to do that enough as a kid.

He found her phone, and called the number for Martel. He answered relatively promptly. "You might want to get here as fast as you can." He said, smiling beneath his mask, before disconnecting.

She reached for her gun, and he kicked it away, stepping on her wrist. "Jonathon is on his way, darling. But he's going to be too late to save you, isn't he?" He grinned, stepping on her wrist as hard as he could. He pulled the gloves from his hands and dropped them beside her. "Sleep well, Scout."

He closed the door, and stuck the card between the frame of the door and the door itself. Catch me if you can.

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