The walls were marred by blood, as a young man peered across the room, in a first-hung set of clothes from his wardrobe. The pieces of glass crunched under his shoe’s rubber sole, which was dampened by the increasing sounds of chats, and footsteps approaching the door.
“Why’s the inspector so serious about some snub hooligan?”
The middle aged man inquired, producing a voice from his busy tongue, and swollen cheeks. Somewhat by the piece of sandwich churning in his mouth, and some from the saggy fat growing from his usual eating more, and working less, life.
“Hah he isn’t a snub hooligan.”
The sub-inspector spoke as his manly eyes showed his abject disappointment. And his chiselled hand reached for the door and opened it.
The door opened to a man, whose face was unintelligibly mashed, and body turned bluish. The bones, veins and muscles couldn’t be distinguished. And his stomach was slit open missing a pair of intestines. A rope was attached to a fancy chandelier, not matching the humble residence. And he was laid down on the floor by the officers.
The walls were marred by blood all over, as if such blood couldn’t come out of a single person, or atleast shouldn’t.
The window glasses were scattered throughout the floor. And the paintings, sculptures, almirahs, drawers were all broken, and thrown.
“Uwoh!”
John formed a fist over his mouth to prevent himself from vomiting.
He rushed outside the room to forget the abhorrent smell of blood, and corpse. Having faced crime scenes, he still couldn’t continue eating. This wasn’t like the Jeremy store’s local stealings, or Hogman’s suicide.
“What in the fuck happened here?” He exclaimed, swallowing his dripping saliva, carrying a pungent taste of vomit.
Leemum took his police hat off, sympathising with his comrade. As he’d be in a similar taste had he been eating.
“He is the son of the director of House industries. Ugh, the smell. My perfume is ruined.”
“Son of that guy? Fuck it’s gonna be a shitload to handle now.”
“By the way what’s Mary doing these days?”
“Huh? When did you meet her?”
“A couple of weeks ago in a Museum. She’s very beautiful. I have never seen anyone like that.”
“If you ever try to get close to her, I am gonna kill you.”
“Oh come on. Even Mary would want to see me again.”
“You are the last guy I'd let her meet.”
“Shit, hunger is killing me. I even spat the sandwich out.”
John walked out to the corridor in his plump fashion.
“Wait, John. I’ll treat you.”
“You better keep yourself in check with Mary, you fucker.”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Leemun followed John, pulling the door behind him, keeping the repugnant smell inside the room.
“They sure talk a lot for two stupids.”
A young man in a casual, first-hung attire, appeared from the corner of the room out of nowhere.
He wore a metal mask that exhibited a prominent nose and a pair of well-defined eyes, suggesting an allure that hinted at something beyond the ordinary.
“Why’d I come here by the way?”
He swivelled his neck up in contemplation.
“Oh, I had to take the heart.”
He lifted his hand, and apparently, fabricated a cold-steel dagger out of thin air.
He gripped the dagger, and walked towards the corpse. When his eyes darted sideways, to his bottom-left, as he rolled to the other side, barely dodging a glowing spear hurled towards him.
The spear contacted the floor, and exploded. Having guessed that the attack wouldn’t be a simple spear-throw, Forty-two, vanished, reappearing at the top of a nearby building.
The fierce explosion dissipated that room like foam, and the building crumbled into nothing but broken furniture and debris.
Forty-two looked around everywhere, attempting to spot the attackers. He was sure they wouldn’t send just one to hunt him.
Another set of spears hurled towards him, nearing a dozen, yet he flashed a smirk under his cold mask.
What Idiots.
He dashed across the terrace of the building and jumped, inhumanly towards the spears. When the spears neared him, just a couple of feet from him. His body disintegrated into hazy, white mist, and scooted forwards, across the spears.
He spanned hundreds of metres in a jiffy, where a group of three were striving to spot their target, with clear unease exhibited on their faces.
They all were battle-suited with tight wears of armors equipped with slots, containing whatnot, and they were segregated yet not too far apart. Fearing to face the opponent alone.
The hazy mist, appearing only like threads of scattered smoke, integrated to form the figure again.
“Are you the best they have?” Forty-two chuckled under the mask, exhibiting a nonchalance in his posture.
“You vile demon, return our artefact.” The man shouted.
“Shouting, and defaming others, doesn’t make you the right one.”
He brandished his hand, forming a fist, tightening it.
“You guys will unfortunately die here.”
“Girls, Begin” The man commanded in a shout, invigorating the ambience which seemed to bolster his team, and suppress Forty-two.
Hah, Forty-two heaved a heavy sigh, and in an instant, he disappeared, appearing just before one of the girls.
Her pupils dilated, and her feet faltered as she strived to remain professional, attempting to maintain her posture and counter attack.
“Jenny!” The other girl exclaimed in horror, lifting her sizzling spear, akin to the one Jenny was holding.
Forty-two didn’t attack actively. His cold-metal mask, displaying striking features, appeared eerie to Jenny. She had never felt such an unnerving fear. Yet, she flung her spear towards him instinctively.
Forty-two lurched to the side, and held Jenny’s arm. It turned into mist, and the spear dropped from her hand. Yet, her face only displayed pure shock, and she felt no pain.
He caught the pitching spear, pivoted on his stance, and thrust the spear towards the man.
Jenny, having created some distance, got her arm back, she slid her hand into a small slot, pulling out a shining Katana.
Forty-two side-eyed Jenny, and noticed the other two, showing their abilities.
The man had deflected the spear with a sheer flick of his hands, having turned into a figure towering at over three metres. And the other girl, had hurled two spears, sizzling bright towards forty-two, and ran towards him, holding a pair of sickles.
“Hey! Stop”
Forty-two shouted in a commanding tone, and instinctively, all the attackers halted.
He moved his face across the directions, monitoring all of them, walking leisurely, showing nonchalance, yet his posture affirmed a passive aggression.
“You guys are really pissing me off. I’ll give you one last chance. Run away and I’ll let you off the hook.”
The man raged, “Evil like you must be eradicated!”
“We aren’t as weak, you bastard! We will see who will let who off the hook.” Sheera exclaimed, as the deflected and dodged spears, exploded, demolishing the buildings.
“Last time.” Forty-two affirmed, in his same monotonous and calm, yet aggressive tone.
“Fuck off.” Sheera replied.
“Hah”
He reached his mask, as it disappeared into thin strands of smoke, hurling to his chest, vanishing, and revealed a face of nonpareil features. His eyes carried clear tinges of his aggression.
He puffed his mouth looking upwards, and breathed out heavy smoke, funnelling and filling the air above. Then, it formed into multiple figures of humongous, slithering snakes, as they filled the air with their sounds.
The three watched in horror, petrified, having no confidence in fighting one of them.
“You guys want destruction? Let me do it better.” Forty-two let the words slither out of his grit teeth.