Page 10 of The Player
In the end, I settled for an exasperated, “Whatever,” muttered under my breath as I sped down the streets, heading towards Brinton Manor. That and an unsettled feeling that’d taken up residence in my stomach, telling me this masked ball would be a night to remember and probably for all the wrong reasons.
Things had a way of turning bad whenever the soldiers were involved.
What was I letting myself in for?
I guess, only time would tell.
ChapterThree
THE TASKMASTER
Iwatched the car drive away, speeding down Coopers Close as I took another drag of my cigarette. Then I flicked it into the gutter and turned to walk back down the alleyway. I turned left when I got to the end, glancing around to check there was no one there. When I was sure it was safe to do so, I climbed onto one of the bins lined up along the fence and then I scaled the fence, jumping into the backyard of my next target. My feet were nimble, agile as I landed with the quietness of a panther.
I pulled the mask out of my inside jacket pocket. This time, I’d brought a Guy Fawkes one, more synonymous with the Anonymous group these days, but it was one of my favourites. Black and white, simple yet effective. I slipped it over my head, the sound of my breathing amplifying as I did, filling my ears as the latex sat close against my skin. Then, I took my leather gloves out and pulled them onto each hand, flexing my fingers to make sure the fit was perfect.
I stalked to the back door, taking my nail file out and using it to pick the lock. Seconds later, I heard the familiar click that meant I could turn the handle and enter his home with ease.
A musty smell hit me as I walked over the threshold. The house obviously hadn’t been cleaned in weeks, but I didn’t flinch. I kept my breaths shallow, quiet. Stealth and silence were key. I didn’t want him to know I was coming because I knew the shock and fear that followed would be worth it. Surprise attacks were always the best.
I placed each footstep down onto the wooden flooring slowly, carefully, mindful that the wrong step might make the floorboards creek and alert him to my presence. But I was lucky. I didn’t make a noise as I crept closer to the sounds of crockery clinking as he washed up his dishes in the kitchen. Passing the living room, I peered around the door. The TV was on, and there was a single, threadbare old armchair with a folding table next to it where he’d probably sat to eat his dinner, but he wasn’t there now. He was whistling without a care in the world as he washed his plates.
Three more steps, and I came to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. He was bent over the sink, oblivious to the world around him. The window he stood in front of was mirror-like, the reflections from the room more prominent because of the darkness outside. I took one more step into the room and positioned myself so that my masked face was clearly reflected in the window, and as he looked up and saw me for the first time, he gasped, dropping the plate in his soapy hands. He grabbed a knife from the draining board and spun around to face me.
“Who the fuck are you? Get out!” he shouted, brandishing the knife at me like it made a difference.
I cocked my head to the side and took another step towards him. Pointing to the knife, I said, “Now, that’s not going to work, is it? I could have that knife off you and cut your throat before you’d even realised what was happening, so I suggest you put it down.”
He didn’t respond, and his grip on the knife as he held it out to threaten me only wavered slightly as he swallowed and weakly stood his ground.
“Unless…” I took another step closer. “You want me to prove it,Mario?”
“How the fuck do you know my name, you fucking freak?” His outstretched arm flexed as he jabbed the knife pointlessly in the air.
“Oh, I know a lot about you,Mario,” I teased. “I know you usually prefer whips to knives.”
His eyes popped as the reality of what I’d said suddenly hit him.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he spluttered. “But you need to get out before I call the police.”
“Yes, do that,” I replied, grabbing a mobile phone I saw on the counter beside me and throwing it his way. But he didn’t move, just let it fall to the floor as he kept his eyes and knife focused on me. “Ring the police,” I urged him. “I’m sure they’d love to hear my stories about playtime with Mario and his whips and how much you enjoyed the wayIscreamed for you.”
“No…” He shook his head, his jaw flexing as he ground his teeth. “That isn’t true. You’re a fucking LIAR!” He was starting to lose it, his voice growing desperate as he fought memories of the demon he’d been to me back then. The demon he still was.
“I have some friends waiting back at my place that I know you’ll be dying to meet again,” I stated casually, thrusting my arm out, catching him by surprise and slapping the knife out of his grasp. He wasn’t as strong as he used to be, or rather, I was stronger now, and the knife clattered to the floor as he backed away with terror blazing in his eyes. “You always did prefer to play as a tag team, but then, I think the games you’re going to play with me now will require a little more…” I tapped my chin. “Solitary effort.”
I didn’t give him chance to reply. I was growing bored already, and I wanted this done. Not to mention, his home smelt like shit, so the less time I spent here, the better. Before he could move, I yanked the syringe out of my pocket and lunged at him, stabbing it into his neck with as much force as I could. Then I crouched down as he slithered helplessly to the floor.
“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I left the syringe in his neck as I slapped his cheek. His eyes were glazed over, his body limp and lifeless.
Leaning over him, I sniffed in disgust.
“You even smell like filth. The sooner you’re taken care of, the better.”
One more down, and only a few more to go.
But I wasn’t disappointed.
I knew the last collections would be the sweetest yet.
