"Please, not the child."
Annoyed, the figure turned away from the crying infant, in the basket and looked at the direction the voice was coming from. A women, around the age of thirty, laid on the ground, blood bubbling from her mouth. The figure watched in amusement as the gaping hole in her stomach continued to pour out blood . Upon making eye contact, the women leaned forward, and wrapped her hands around the figure's ankles, making it very difficult to move away.
"I beg you, not the child."
The figure, ignoring the pleas from the women, bent over and casually wiped the blood of the knife onto the garment of a nearby corpse. Turning around, the figure kicked the women, causing her hands to loosen around the ankles.
"Do you know what I find funny about this?" the figure asked, silently calculating what would be the best place to stab in order to finish off the infant.
The women feebly reached forward in order to grab the baby. Halfway there, she collapsed, unable to make the final motions.
"What I find funny is that I didn't ask for your opinion," the figure said. Wheeling around, the figure lunged forward with the knife, and swiftly sank the knife in her throat. The light left her eyes, and the last thing she said before falling on the ground in a lifeless heap was "Please."
The figure, turning around, walked back to the child. It was the last person alive in the cathedral, but for some reason, the figure didn't feel like killing it. The baby balled up its fist and resumed crying, louder than ever.
The figure sighed, and then after wiping the blood off of the knife again, tucked it inside the black jacket the figure always wore.. Reaching forward, the figure picked up the basket the child was in and lifted it up slowly. The figure walked across the room, and placed the basket on the lectern near the front of the room. Sighing, the figure turned and looked at the bloody corpses laying on the ground.
"Well, now it's time for the truest form of art to begin!" the figure said with a unstable maniacal laughter.
The sound of the phone ringing startled Jake Jericho from his dreamless sleep. Siting up suddenly, he glanced at the soft light illuminating from his old, but yet still functioning, iPhone 7. Letting out a sigh, he reached out to his phone only for the sound to suddenly stop. Frowning, Jake glanced at who called, wondering if it was someone of importance, like Sheriff Burklos, or perhaps a person with answers. Anything to help him with his chase for the Deceptive One.
"Unknown Caller: No message."
Sighing in frustration, Jake tossed his phone among the other clutter that occupied his nightstand. Yesterday was a huge disappointment. He had so much hope that he would finally be able to catch the Deceptive One, to be able to get back on his feet and continue his perfect reputation of being a great detective, only to find out that he had been too late. Again.
This wasn't the only time that he had been close to finding out the identity of the Deceptive One. Two weeks ago, Burklos and him received a emergency phone call from the person who ran the subways in downtown Los Angeles. Upon arrival, they were shown a subway train with seven victims, each who had suffered from the Deceptive One's unique move: Killing the victim, skinning the face, and tying them into various positions with wire.
Although seven victims was a lot of innocent people dead, this wasn't what frustrated Jake the most. It was the fact that there were camera recordings of the whole place, but yet none of them showed anything about the Deceptive One's identity. Plus, to top it off, the murders occurred a mere three hours before Burklos and him arrived.
Jake plopped back into his bed, physically drained, which was strange for he had slept eight hours last night. He just couldn't shake of the fact that today was thirty-one days, but yet he was no closer to solving the case than he was on day one, when he first heard of the serial killer..
Maybe I am a failure, Jake thought to himself. Sure, he had a perfect reputation, but all the jobs that he has been hired for were for cases that didn't have that much importance. Sure, a car stolen was devastating, but no life's were in peril. Usually, his job included analyzing a corpse to when, and how, it died.
Heck, the only time that someone's life was in danger was when a couple kids were kidnapped by this psycho who thought if he sacrificed seven kids on a full moon, he would gain immortality. (Strange thing was the person wasn't too bad of a person when Jake interviewed him, he just had this crazy messed up idea that his parents always said was true. Tracking down the parents was a bit of a problem, since they didn't have a registered address, but that is a story for another time.) Jake rescued the kids before any harm was done, but that was it.
And yet, when lives were in danger, he was incapable of solving the case. So much for being a great detective, he thought to himself.
Well, sitting there was getting him nowhere, so Jake got up, and decided to take a little break today and head to the coffee shop located two blocks down the street. Getting up, he reached for his case of tools that he usually brought with him in case of an emergency only to find that it was missing.
That's strange, he thought to himself. He usually always left his tools on the desk near the exit, but he could have easily misplaced it yesterday before going to bed.
Frowning, he started shifting through the miscellaneous papers and files that were haphazardly strewn all over his desk, ranging from some old past cases he had completed some time ago, to some interesting documents that he had always wanted to read, but yet never found the time too.
However, he still wasn't able to find his case of tools. Looking around, he noticed one of the drawers of the desk was slightly opened, even though he never recalled going in there. Perhaps that is where I put the tools, he thought to himself.
Opening it, he was confronted by his trusty leather case of tools. Sighing in relief, Jake reached forward and pocketed it inside his coat. Just when he was about to close the drawer, he noticed something white peaking out under some old clothes. Jake leaned forward, and pulled it out. Lifting it up, he looked at it in confusion.
It was a white mask, the type that always come to mind when you imagine theater, the two masks that is either always happy and sad. Made of a sleek smooth plastic, the face was frozen in an eternal sadness.
But that wasn't what got Jake's attention. Smeared on the left cheek was a bloody hand print, streaked down as if someone had reached for the mask in some sort of desperate action of defense, but lost strength the moment the hand made contact with the mask.
Turning it over so he could see the inside of the mask, Jake could see, on the forehead part of the mask, the numbers 4 7 written in blood. In between the two numbers was a symbol he couldn't really distinguish.. It was either a dot, a slash of some sort, or a random blood streak that had dripped down in between the two numbers.
Why would I have a bloody mask in my room?, He stopped to think about his recent activities, but none of them required him wearing a mask, let alone a bloody mask that had some strange number on it.. He stopped, and started using his fingernail to scratch off the dried substance, to make sure it was blood.
Sure enough, the substance peeled off the smooth plastic. Questions began to swirl in Jake's mind, and on any regular day, he would have headed to the forensic science lab to get as much information possible, but today, he just wasn't feeling up to it. For all he knows, the mask could be years old. Tossing the mask on his bed so he wouldn't forget about it later, Jake headed outside the door.
The cool air greeted Jake as he walked outside. Breathing deeply, he hurriedly headed down the street, nodding at other pedestrians as he went by. Turning the street corner, and walking another block, he soon arrived at the coffee shop. Painted a cheery yellow with glass windows that faced the busy street, it had a welcome presence that beckoned people to come in and enjoy a cup of Joe along with a pastry. A sign on the window said, "Welcome to Lemon Corner Espresso!"
Jake strolled in, and decided to sit by one of the glass windows. That way, he could watch people go by while sipping his coffee. Thinking about it, it has been a long time since he had ever stopped to relax. Ever since taking up the case with the Deceptive One, his life had been consumed. Last time he even felt this relaxed was when Rebecca was still aliv--
A wave of emotion hit Jake, and he quickly turned his mind to the waitress that walked up to him. Anything but Rebecca, he scolded himself.
"Hello sir! Would you like the regular today?" the waitress asked, looking at her notepad in her hand.
"Regular? Uh, do I have a regular?" Jake asked, confused. He had visited this shop before, but only once or twice. And surely, he didn't come here enough for people to recognize him and know what his order was, right?
"Of course! You come here once every two weeks, or so, and your order is always the same. If I'm right, you even came here last night," the waitress remarked.
"I... did?" Jake asked, utterly confused. All he remembered was coming home after a disappointing day and crashing in bed. At the same time, you don't remember why you had a bloody mask in your drawer, his conscious seemingly whispered in his ear. Jake decided to ignore it. Maybe she was confusing him for someone else, he thought.
"Could be wrong, but I believed you did." She paused to think about it for a few seconds. "Could be someone else, but I swore you sat in the seat you are currently sitting in, and was talking about how busy you were last night.... Never mind, I could be mixing you with someone else. Anyways, would you like your regular?"
"Yeah, sure," Jake said, still confused. People made mistakes, he reassured himself, and this was surely one of them. Plus, it would be interesting what this "regular" was.
Minutes passed by, and Jake took the time to clear his mind of all the worries that bothered him. Who knows, he thought, maybe, just maybe, the Deceptive One would stop his killing streak, and life could resume normally. He knew it was foolish to get his hopes up, but he just couldn't help it.
"Here you go!" Jake looked up to see the waitress place down a cup of hot coffee, along with some pastries. "Hazelnut cappuccino with double shots of espresso, along with a raspberry scone and an old fashion doughnut," she said, looking at her notepad for a reference. "That will be $14.98 when you're done, sir," she said before turning and walking away.
Jake reached forward, and began to sip his coffee. Strangely he recognized the taste, but to him, all coffee's tasted the same. Minutes passed as he sipped his coffee and pondered about his situation.
"Well, isn't it Jack Jericho," a voice said behind him. Jake turned to see a middle-aged man wearing a navy-blue tuxedo, and carrying a briefcase, standing near the table.
"Um, it's Jake, not Jack. And, have we met before?" Jake asked. He didn't recognize the man, but considering all the crazy things that has happened this morning, he wasn't too sure anymore.
The man sighed, as if bothered by the question, and then sat on the chair directly opposite of Jake, reaching forward to snatch the scone of the plate. Jake watched with a strange sense of déjà vu, as if this happened on a daily routine. What is wrong with me?
"You can just call me..." he paused to think about it for a moment. "DID." He stopped to analyze Jake's face. Seeing no response, he cracked a grin as if he'd just shared a private joke, and Jake didn't get it.
"You really are oblivious, aren't you. The world goes by, the cards are played, and yet you remain oblivious. To everything." He stopped briefly to take a bite out of the scone. The man chewed slowly, staring at Jake as if expecting some sort of response. Unsure what the man was getting at, and sort of annoyed that the man was eating his scone, Jake continued to sip his coffee.
"I wonder how you must feel, knowing that you've been nothing, but a pawn. Knowing that this entire time, you've been played like a fool. Knowing that no matter how hard you try, you will always be the downfall to everyone around you. Knowing that your worst enemy will always be yourself."
"What the heck are you talking about? Is this about the Deceptive One? Who are you?" Jake asked, leaning forward in his chair. A sense of unease crept down Jake's spine.
"It doesn't matter. Everything will be found out in due time. But, by then, it will be too late. Much too late. The answers are out there. You just need to find them, Mr. Jake Jericho." the man reached for a napkin, and casually brushed off the crumbs on his face. Standing up, he bunched up the napkin and tossed it at a trash can nearby. He then proceeded to head to the door.
Before exiting, he stopped, and glanced at Jack one last time.
"Perhaps, the question you should be wondering is, Who are you?" The man stared at Jake for several long seconds before exiting.
Jake sat there for several minutes, unsure what just happened and what it means for him. Was this person in collaboration with the Deceptive One? What did his hidden messages mean?
Jake sighed, and started reaching for the doughnut on his plate. Just before he was about to grab it, his phone starting ringing, vibrating in his pant pocket. Pulling it out, he was confronted again with "Unknown Caller." Frowning, he answered it.
"About time, Jake" a familiar voice said.
"Burklos, what is it this time," Jake said, standing up from his seat.
"Doesn't matter, just go to the building located in 18th street."
"In case you didn't know, there are more than twenty buildings in 18th street."
"Yeah, I know. I think it is called a cathedral. Anyways, the whole thing is in flames. You need to hurry before the evidence is destroyed. The Deceptive One stuck again."
"Twice in a row. He usua--"
"Doesn't matter. Just hurry up.. Where are you?"
"I'm at the espresso place near 7th street."
"Great! Grab me a doughnut. But hurry up."
"What do you want me to do, hurry up, or get you a doughnut?"
"Both."
"What do you--"
The phone beeped, and then hung up. Prior to it being turning off, Jake could hear someone shouting something that sounded like "There's a kid in there!" Sighing, Jake looked at the doughnut sitting on the plate.
"Looks like both you and I have a busy day ahead," he said to it. Thankfully, it didn't respond back.
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