First Investment Bank Amsterdam, 2122

“Show me your hands.”

I said it softly. Hands that raced across the keyboard froze. Realization struck, her brilliant blue eyes glanced up at me. Fear entered her eyes when they locked mine. Ecstasy rushed through my veins, made me feel alive, made me feel I could scare the whole world. Her frozen hands trembled softly, her eyes darted between the gun in my hand, the desk and my eyes. A faint glimmer of hope in those beautiful blue eyes. Hope should be crushed. Hope made people do stupid things.

“Move!” I barked at her. “If you so much as turn your head toward that desk, I'll give you stumps to try to push bloody buttons. Or make them bloody if you prefer.”

She whimpered and would have jumped if she could, the seat restricted her movements anyway. Cautiously she shoved the chair across the rough carpet, two paces from the desk. I suppressed a laugh. She believed. Good thing she did. Her hands, long elegant fingers decorated with sparse, silver jewelry. Too bad she believed. I liked it better when they didn't, the shock would be heavier, more... tangible and more desperate. Fear, desperation and uncertainty, this triad of emotions could send me over the clouds, over the rainbow for that matter.

I smiled in myself. Despite the command, her eyes were drawn to the desk like a magnet. Still, her eyes darted between the gun in my hand and the desk, occasionally flashing towards the desk.

The gun was for show. Another threat, another impulse of fear, one to pull at my own leisure. Fear. The word itself already a feast for my ears. The effect on others a feast for my soul. A well of unending, untainted pleasure. I knew fear myself, everyone does.

The rim of my hood concealed my features as I glanced around. Today, black, gaping holes between the eyelids represented my eyes. A vertical, short slit functioned as my nose. My skin was grey, rough and patched as if burned, different hues of grey gave my head a sinister, creepy impression. My teeth looked roughly filed to points. I smiled at the clerk, revealing the reddish teeth I had carefully concealed so far. She gasped, eyes widened, I doubted for a second whether she'd faint. Another torrent of raging blood and satisfaction rushed through my body and my smile twisted to a feral snarl. Eyes diluted, my other senses seemed clouded and obscured. I loved this feeling, this trance, this ecstasy.

It was mostly elderly people who filled the bank this time of the day. Expensive, inadequate security personnel replaced by security systems, meant to hold and detain or destroy, rather than capture and detain. Countless hours had I spent, simulating, trying to find the balance between scary, intimidating and systems parameters. All to prevent being shredded by accurate lasers before I took more than 2 steps inside the bank.

I was twelve when I learned I was different. Never been popular, never bullied either. I taught them all to fear and avoid me. The ability to change shapes, any shape, put my life upside-down. The talent allowed me to alter my own image, the impression and more-importantly, the emotions my appearance evoked.

“Now,” I whispered. “You will take me to the box room.”

She stared at me. I'm not sure whether she saw me, or something else. She shook herself violently before getting up. I suppressed another smile. I couldn't be sure it was because of me.

“I hope you understand that any kind of.. interruption while we walk there, will add to your bill.”

She shivered and stared at me. I did my research, the security system would pick up on unusual behavior. The walk had to be casual, no interruptions , no detours and no threatening behavior.

Privacy, the idea that one can do whatever one needs to do, without anyone else knowing or seeing. The boxroom, carefully placed outside of the spying eyes of the surveillance camera's.

Her first steps were careful, deliberate movements. A few steps, and her steps grew stronger and more secure of herself. Good, it would be fun to peel that slimy coat of confidence of her fear. A flimsy membrane of false self-preservation. Next time she trembled, it would be so much more satisfying. I followed, a few steps behind. Her walk had gotten close to swaggering, her hips swinging from side to side. Seduction, temptation and desire. Three emotions I quenched, realized how useless, worthless and discouraging they are. Shapeshifters around me strove for perfection, physical beauty, all in order to love and be loved. Perfection and attraction, never done, never enough. Never happy with themselves, they dared tell me love and affection mattered most in life. Sometimes I wonder what maggots think love tastes like. I shook off the mesmerizing, lulling train of thought. This was not the time.

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Her behavior well controlled and normal, only her breath betrayed her state of mind. Ragged and irregular as we walked towards the boxroom. Hands trembled, unlocking the door of the box room. My long-nailed, claw-like hand on her shoulder, I led her inside, instructed her to lock to door, leaving the keys. Other visitors could wait. The hood off my head, unleashed the full monstrosity of my appearance. The clerk admired my features for the first time, a sense of pure dread, pure terror rising in her eyes. Pupils dilated, they flashed across my features, flashed as if locking my eyes would mean certain death. I barked a laugh, the pleasure of her dread filling my head with a sense of invincibility. Happiness, joy, whatever, it filled my head with self-importance, made me feel as if I decided between life and death. Made me feel as if a mere command would make her do what I want. Intimidation was such a simple, effective tool. My pocket contained a list of the lock boxes that I needed, the only purpose of this visit. I reached for it, caught a glimpse of a poorly-controlled flinch.

“Get me these!”

I dug my nails deep in her wrist. The iron-like smell of blood was just invigorating. The way she opened her lips showing her teeth, indicated hysteria lurking in the back of her mind. She fingered the dingy, flimsy scrap of paper, covered in my scribbly writing. The paper listed lock boxes of the richest, most influential clients of the bank. Pay, all of them would. I would make sure of that. She gaped, her eyes focused on the list of names and lock boxes. The gun waved in front of her face and she swallowed laboriously.

I licked the blood of her nails and my eyes lit up.

“Hurry!”

Weeks, maybe months, I dreamt about this moment. The grand finale of my schemes, of my work, hopefully my poverty. When I started this career, they promised me money. Lots of money. I never had any, the promise sounded sweet, the deal even sweeter. They knew I liked fear, Knew I thrived on it and they promised me an endless river of human emotions. never drying well, a never ending dream. It had turned out to be a never-ending nightmare. One that pulled you in, no matter how awake and wary you were. Although I liked, no loved, feeding off others’ fear, uncertainty and insecurity, I had never intended to permanently harm anyone. I loved to see the chaos, inner strife, anything that made people as confused as I felt. Once I lavished myself in their desperation and helplessness, I longed for more. I never intended to become the man I became, yet here I was. A cold-blooded killer.

Never intended to be a killer, a cold blooded destroyer. Yet, here I was.

Mere minutes later, twenty of the lock boxes I required laid in front of me. KeysI scoffed at the idea. Didn't need keys anyway. Only provided a false sense of security. A sense of safety.

I was young, could barely control the growth of beard when I learned how to open locks. Not out of bad intentions. I just never liked to be kept out of secrets. Knowing people's secrets, I could pressure people, manipulate and embarrass others on command.

The gun, put down next to the lock boxes. Her eyes flashed, the gun no longer in my hand, she thought me less dangerous. A mad giggle rose from my throat, I concealed it by coughing violently. Locking her eyes, I smiled. Disdained, I noticed she no longer really responded to my smiles. I used it too much, knew it lost effect. I made an effort not to look at the gun. Left it out of my vision, hoped she would take the bait. Relaxed in the deep, soft chairs of the boxroom.

I focused on the lock boxes, opening them in rapid fashion. None of them resistant to the changing nature of my finger. Most of the boxes contained jewelry and valuable documents. Some contained storage devices. I pocketed the storage devices, those would probably prove more valuable than anything else.

One lock box held my mind more than others, the owner, the man of the promises. Had forced me down a path I was not eager to take. Made me soil my soul and a puppet to his wishes.

The lid of the box did not go off easy. As if someone had stuck edges with gum, gave way, but did not come off. I had to pry my finger between the edges, use it as leverage. A clean, white envelope fell out as the lid came off, the addressee faced the ground. Nothing else, only the envelope and a screaming emptiness. I stared at the box, a sense of doom crept up on me, made me shiver from the base of my skull. The ground fell from under my feet, nothing to hold on to. All I could do was fall, careful preparation, all for nothing. How long I stared, I am not sure. The clerk had stopped her heavy breathing and was staring at me intently by the time I came to my senses. Well, senses. An endless rage, an unlimited need to destroy, to burn.

My trembling hands plucked the envelope from the ground. The addressee was me, my name written in a neat, curled handwriting. The envelope ripped easy, my hands tearing the paper with burning anger. My eyes flashed across the paper, seeing, but not reading. My trembling hand shook the paper with such force, I could not make out a single word. I wanted to howl with anger, with frustration.

“Not reading it, does not make it false.” A cold, almost quivering voice from my right bit at me, anger barely hidden.

“I thought you would see through me in seconds. They told me you were complacent, arrogant and scary. I only see complacency and arrogance.”

Amusement now replaced the anger in her voice, the tone almost as if mocking.

I turned my head, the clerk from the front desk gone. Instead, a tall dark-haired girl stood there. Black jeans, black leather jacket, reddish hair in a ponytail. A derogative look on her face.

“I like what you did to yourself. Veeery scary.” She laughed.

I looked around for another option. She must be a shapeshifter too. How had they known? How had she known when to be here. I never shared any plans, never shared.. well anything. I searched for a reason, something that had given me away. I found none. I had to admit, they were better than I was. I didn't move, didn't lift a finger. This girl, I thought it wryly, was of no threat to me. This girl..

Cocking of a gun brought me to reality, the barrel cold against the burning skin on my temple.

“You should have known better than to steal from the triad.”