Turning the street corner, the man hurriedly walked into the narrow little-known alleyway. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that no one was following him, or noticed his departure into the shadowy alleyway. Upon seeing no one, the man quickened his pace until he was completely shrouded by the long comforting shadows that the buildings on both sides of the alleyway provided.
Sighing in relief, he slowed his pace to a casual walk, nervously fingering his briefcase that he always kept with him. Out of the whole plan, this was the part that he hated the most. The part that made him feel insecure about the whole thing. A wild card, that if played wrong, could be devastating and mess up everything.
Halfway down the alleyway, the man paused, before turning right and facing a dirty pale brick wall. Opening his briefcase a crack, he pulled out a long slender silver key. He clicked the briefcase closed before stepping forward and observing the wall. Even he, the creator of this unknown hideout, found it hard at times to spot the keyhole.
This time, however, he located it with relative ease, hidden in between two worn out bricks. Clicking the key in place and turning it slowly, the man stepped back as a hidden trapdoor flipped open. Crafted by a professional, the trapdoor blended perfectly with the old cobblestone road of the alleyway. Taking the key out of the keyhole, the man hopped down into the dark basement before closing the trapdoor with a slam.
Dusting off his navy-blue tuxedo and flipping on an old light bulb, the man placed his briefcase on an old dusty table located near the trapdoor. Undoing the latch of his briefcase, he rifled through some paperwork before finding what he was looking for. Smiling, he pulled out a slim plastic black mask, it's face permanently frozen in eternal mock happiness, a bloody 4 7 streaked on the forehead of the mask. The man ran the tip of his finger on the smooth plastic, his fingernail chipping off any dried blood that happened to be on the mask.
"Looks like you're going to have another busy night," the man said to the mask. The mask grinned back, the black plastic seemingly glowing from the light shined by the old light bulb.
As if on cue, a loud slamming noise echoed throughout the basement, causing the desk to slightly shift. The man, startled from his thoughts, pulled the mask out completely before slamming his briefcase closed. Turning around, he headed down the long dark hallway that branched off from the main room. Even from where he was, he could hear this screeching noise, followed by an occasional unstable laughter.
The noises got louder and louder as the man continued down the hallway. He was use to the noises, so it barely bothered him anymore. I'll have to be sure to document that S.47 was yet again going through a psychological breakdown, the man noted to himself.
Arriving at the door, the man patiently waited until the noises died down slightly before opening it. It took a couple seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, but even then, he couldn't fully see everything inside. He didn't need to, though. He crafted this room especially for S.47, and knew where everything was.
The man stepped forward, and closed the door behind him. He could see the figure sitting on a chair near the corner, violently convulsing. He watched in amusement as the figure fell of the chair, quivering on the ground, locked in a hallucination, (or, that's what the man thought it was. Even to this day, he was still unsure.) Minutes passed as the figure screeched, as if being tortured past what it was capable of handling.
After what seemed like an eternity, the figure stopped and slowly got up, shivering slightly as it did so. The figure, upon getting up, glanced at the man, before staring at the mask in his hand.
"How much more of the art until it is complete?" the figure asked, the voice sounding like a child lost in some dark forbidden forest, seeking some sort of reassurance from anyone.
The man flashed a grin before placing the dark smiling mask into the figure's hand.
"Only five more. A piece of cake. So, let's get it done within the next two days, starting with the man who seeks you out the most. So, why don't you give him a little surprise?"
***********
"Can you go any slower?" Jake asked annoyed. Seconds mattered, but yet this taxi driver seemed contended on driving at least five to ten miles below the speed limit.
After the phone call with Burklos, Jake had quickly paid for the meal. He then went out on the street, just for the meal. He then went out on the street, just in time for a taxi to pass by. Had he had know how slow this driver was, he probably would have walked to the cathedral. It would have been no doubt quicker, and obviously less expensive.
The driver yawned, oblivious to Jake's frustration.
"Step on the gas pedal!" Jake said, practically ready to hop out the window. "I'll pay you double!"
That seemed to have gotten the driver's attention. The driver lurched forward, only for it come across an intersection with a red light.
"You have to be kidding me!!!" Jake said, before letting out a stream of curses that if typed out, would instantly cause any computer to short-circuit and probably explode.
The driver shrugged, before leaning back and started sipping from a Pepsi can that smelled suspiciously of vodka.
Jake, infuriated, pulled out his wallet and started going through his money. He finally pulled out a wad of twenties and threw it at the driver. The driver's eyes widened.
"When I say step on the gas, I mean it!" the words had barely left Jake's mouth before the taxi raced forward, nearly colliding into a car, ignoring the red light completely.
Jake leaned back, satisfied, as the speedometer of the taxi reached an astonishing 95 mph. Cars swerved, honking angrily, and Jake swore he heard the sound of metal colliding. He decided to worry about it later.
It felt like mere seconds before Jake could see, and smell, the burning building. The taxi slid to a stop, leaving skid marks on the road.
Jake hopped out, tossing some cash on the seat (enough to pay for a good lawyer, because judging from what Jake heard as they were driving, the driver will be needing one relatively soon). The taxi left as fast as it arrived, leaving only dust where it was a few moments ago.
"Phew, you made it." Jake turned around to see Burklos walking up to him, breathing heavily. "I was getting worried that you couldn't arrive. I heard there was a few accidents down the intersection of 15th and 18th. Oh, and by the way, did you get the doughnut?"
"Must have missed the accident, lucky me!" Jack said, sweating silently. In the distance, Jake could hear the sound of sirens wailing. "Oh yeah, as a matter of fact, I do have a doughnut." Jake took out the doughnut and handed it to Burklos. Burklos unwrapped the doughnut and gave it a grieving look before taking a huge bite.
Turning around, Jake glanced at the cathedral. Once a magnificent building, with beautiful stained glass windows that reflected the evening sun, it was now a collapsing burning pile of rubble.
Making sure Burklos was distracted, Jake quickly dispersed himself in the crowd. Pushing himself through, Jake soon found himself at the yellow security tape surrounding the building. Looking both ways, Jake dunked underneath it and heading through the charred remains of the door.
The moment Jake walked in, he was blinded by thick, black smoke. Coughing, Jake bent over, his eyes watering. Using his hand to fan the smoke from his face, Jake bent down and crept forward. The smell of burning flesh overwhelmed Jake, causing him to stumble forward. Jake tried to ignore the bile rising from his throat as he continued.
After a few couple hundred yards, the air cleared enough so Jake could stand up and look at his surroundings. Tying a cloth he had in his pocket around his mouth so he can breath easier, Jake got up and looked around.
He was standing in the middle of the church, with long charred benches on both sides of him. Turning to his left, he could see two humanoid figures, standing among the flames. Taking a step forward, Jake could see that the figures were missing their faces. The heat from the flames has caused the flesh to bubble, and slowly drip down, revealing the glistening white of the skull. The eye sockets were dripping streams of molten white goo, giving an impression that they were crying. Tied with wire in a standing position, the figure's hands were pressed palm together in a praying position, their faces looking at the ceiling.
Sickened, Jake slowly backed up to see what the faces were staring at. Blinking away the tears caused by the smoke, Jake could see something hanging from the roof. He squinted, trying to make out the shape among the growing smoke.
After a few moments, Jake realized with horror that it was the faces of the people, hanging from the room by wire. The Deceptive One must have had a gross sense of humor, Jake thought. Having the skinned people praying to their own faces above. Jake wanted to vomit.
Turning to his right, Jake could see the same thing happened to two other innocent people. Killed for just going to church, Jake thought angrily. What is the Deceptive One's purpose?
Deciding that he has already wasted too much time, he pulled out his phone and started taking pictures of the corpses and the buildings.It sickened him to do it, but he needed to if he wanted to find any hints to finish this case. So far four victims, he thought to himself.
Stepping forward, Jake soon arrived at the front part of the church. At first, Jake didn't see anything, so he was about to turn around. That's when he heard it. A sound of a baby crying softly.
Jake turned around quickly, trying to pinpoint the noise. It seemed to come straight ahead of him. Lunging forward blindly, Jake smashed against the church's lectern, almost falling over. Regaining his balance, he took in his surroundings.
In front of him, behind the lectern, was another victim, a women, who was posed as if giving a speech. Both arms were spread out, as if embracing the crowd after finishing. A gaping hole in her stomach has fostered into a bubbly oozing infection, in which the skinned face was tied onto, frozen in horror. The skinned head suffered like all of the other corpses, except the eyes were just gaping holes, staring into the abyss.
On the lectern was a closed large woven basket, which was covered with a thick cloth. Jake could hear crying coming from it. Grabbing the basket, Jake turned around and started heading towards the door quickly. Tripping over a smoldering piece of wood, Jake burst through the doors, gasping the fresh air.
"What were you doing in there?!?" Jake turned to see Burklos, along with a firefighter. The firefighter nodded at Jake before taking the basket and rushing away with it.
"I was investigating the crime scene," Jake said, ducking underneath the security tape once again so he could join Burklos "Only five victims this time."
"I don't care how many victims!" Burklos said angrily, glaring at Jake. "You didn't have authorization to enter the building. You could have died!"
"Yeah, and so would the child." Jake argued.
Burklos sighed, taking off his cap and running his finger through his hair. "Jake, I hate to say this to you, but the police department hired this detective from D.C. He will be coming within the next two days."
"What!? Jake exclaimed, "But I am getting close. I feel it!! Just give me a week. Everything is happening so fast, I just need some time to absorb it all!"
Burklos stopped, before shaking his head. "Jake, give it a rest. You have been working non-stop for a month. Take a break. Plus, it is getting dangerous. I have a family too, you know, and I don't want to put myself, or my family, in danger if I don't have too."
Jake looked at Burklos, speechless. "But--"
"No buts. It has been nice working with you, Mr. Jericho, but you need to know when to stop." Burklos gave Jake one last look before walking away. Jake felt like melting in the cement. Defeated.
Shaking, Jake turned to walk away, when suddenly his phone vibrated within his pocket. Reaching, Jake pulled out his phone.
Unknown Caller532Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaL7Y8iGnYy
"Again?" Jake frowned before answering. "Hello?"532Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZaHZCholND
No response
"Who are you?" Jake asked, feeling somewhat frustrated.
A slight chuckle.
"I said, who are you?" Jake said again.
"Oh, but isn't that the question that you'd die to know the answer for?" the voice responded in a icy cold tone. Why do I know that voice, Jake wondered to himself.
Jake felt a shiver run down his spine. "The Deceptive One..." Jake whispered, more to himself than to anyone else.
There was silence for a little bit, before a little chuckle. "I guess you can call me that. I prefer to call myself the Sculpturer." The voice chuckled a bit, as if it was some sort of joke.
"But... who are you?" Jake stammered, unable to think properly. The Deceptive One is literary calling me!!! His mind felt like rubber.
The voice chuckled again. "I think the better question is, who are you?"
Click.532Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1x2Ou11SbC
Jake looked in dismay as the phone hung up. He couldn't believe it. The Deceptive One called him for what? To taunt him? Renewed energy surged through Jake. He would finish this case, no matter what.
Turning around, he walked down the street, pondering where he had heard that voice before. It wasn't that strange man in the cafe, but he swore he knew exactly who the voice was, but yet he couldn't place it after the events of today...
ns 15.158.61.21da2
