Whoah man. I got a second draft for the robber bit.
He had been following the woman for a week, now.
She was working at the local K-mart, often overtime. And after that, taking the same route; the same shortcut, through the derelict areas of the city. He had been watching her since she caught his eyes since the day he went out for groceries. Black, middle-aged, and not too attractive, with a daughter whom he had heard about from the grapevine. He had seen her once. She was most definitely not like her mother. Beautiful, in fact.
His grip tightened. The thirst was back, clawing at the back of his mind. He had to be careful. He had already grown careless once or twice, and the police had already gotten on his tail. He had gotten away by looking unassuming and average, and he had been released after a round of questioning... but his name and face was already on file.
But he didn't care. The itch was getting too much to bear. He had already gotten his fill of prostitutes and homeless druggies. Now was time for something more... exciting. Someone with a family. Someone who had another depending on her. Someone who had somebody waiting for her back home. But not too exciting. He needed to be discrete. So someone that no one would look for. Poor, black, single.
Someone whom he could steal the keys to her house from her cooling corpse after he'd had his fun, and then open the door, to find her child at night, all alone.
He slowly peeked past a corner, keeping his feet clear from debris, avoiding any noise that could announce his presence. His clothes blended with the shadows, always at a distance, tracking her footsteps echoing in the darkness as she walked on, oblivious to who was stalking her. The moon was already hidden by clouds, making it impossible to discern a human shape, nevermind one in dark clothes.
She hadn't looked back once, likely tired from a long day at work.
Idiot. Weak. Oblivious. Prey.
She was already halfway through the derelict area. The furthest possible distance from help, and he had made sure the area was clear of homeless or vagrants. Nobody to interfere, nor hear her scream in panick, or later, pain. Cops rarely entered this area. Now she was walking through the abandoned warehouses. Good. No sound went past them. He slowly took a step, legs tensing for a short sprint.
A hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him about. He whirled. The darkness and the sheer lack of people meant that this person meant nothing good. His mouth released a choked gasp, as something struck him in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. His hands went over his abdomen, knees week, mouth gaping as if trying to gulp down the air denied him. His opponent was still there, fist extended.
A blow to the back of the head, slamming into him. He saw stars and in a haze of pain he turned around, eyes half-closed from the throbbing at the back of his skull. Two more figures had appeared, apparently barring his path to the woman even as he had been struck. But how? He was perceptive. They could not have found him by accident. The trash and architecture meant he would hear them. But that meant that... they were waiting for him. This was an ambush.....
He was grabbed, and he was flung into a dark alleyway, striking the ground and dislodging long-abandoned cans of beer and cigarette packs. Rats scurried away, frightened by this new interloper. He laid there, staring at the stars, groaning as he realized that several bones must have been broken.
Four figures stood above him, towering over his prone body. One of them raised something. He recognised it, from his hoodlum days. A baseball bat, with nails embedded within it.
The bat swung down.
Mike Angelo, murderer, serial killer, and suspected to be behind the disappearance for several women, died in an alley beside a defunct warehouse. Like his victims. Forgotten, abandoned, alone, and in the cold. His body would be found 3 days later, when a drunken hobo stumbled upon it.
Abigail Davis continued walking back to her home, humming a tune to herself, even as she imagined the hugs her daughter will give her when she got back.
He had been following the woman for a week, now.
She was working at the local K-mart, often overtime. And after that, taking the same route; the same shortcut, through the derelict areas of the city. He had been watching her since she caught his eyes since the day he went out for groceries. Black, middle-aged, and not too attractive, with a daughter whom he had heard about from the grapevine. He had seen her once. She was most definitely not like her mother. Beautiful, in fact.
His grip tightened. The thirst was back, clawing at the back of his mind. He had to be careful. He had already grown careless once or twice, and the police had already gotten on his tail. He had gotten away by looking unassuming and average, and he had been released after a round of questioning... but his name and face was already on file.
But he didn't care. The itch was getting too much to bear. He had already gotten his fill of prostitutes and homeless druggies. Now was time for something more... exciting. Someone with a family. Someone who had another depending on her. Someone who had somebody waiting for her back home. But not too exciting. He needed to be discrete. So someone that no one would look for. Poor, black, single.
Someone whom he could steal the keys to her house from her cooling corpse after he'd had his fun, and then open the door, to find her child at night, all alone.
He slowly peeked past a corner, keeping his feet clear from debris, avoiding any noise that could announce his presence. His clothes blended with the shadows, always at a distance, tracking her footsteps echoing in the darkness as she walked on, oblivious to who was stalking her. The moon was already hidden by clouds, making it impossible to discern a human shape, nevermind one in dark clothes.
She hadn't looked back once, likely tired from a long day at work.
Idiot. Weak. Oblivious. Prey.
She was already halfway through the derelict area. The furthest possible distance from help, and he had made sure the area was clear of homeless or vagrants. Nobody to interfere, nor hear her scream in panick, or later, pain. Cops rarely entered this area. Now she was walking through the abandoned warehouses. Good. No sound went past them. He slowly took a step, legs tensing for a short sprint.
A hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him about. He whirled. The darkness and the sheer lack of people meant that this person meant nothing good. His mouth released a choked gasp, as something struck him in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. His hands went over his abdomen, knees week, mouth gaping as if trying to gulp down the air denied him. His opponent was still there, fist extended.
A blow to the back of the head, slamming into him. He saw stars and in a haze of pain he turned around, eyes half-closed from the throbbing at the back of his skull. Two more figures had appeared, apparently barring his path to the woman even as he had been struck. But how? He was perceptive. They could not have found him by accident. The trash and architecture meant he would hear them. But that meant that... they were waiting for him. This was an ambush.....
He was grabbed, and he was flung into a dark alleyway, striking the ground and dislodging long-abandoned cans of beer and cigarette packs. Rats scurried away, frightened by this new interloper. He laid there, staring at the stars, groaning as he realized that several bones must have been broken.
Four figures stood above him, towering over his prone body. One of them raised something. He recognised it, from his hoodlum days. A baseball bat, with nails embedded within it.
The bat swung down.
Mike Angelo, murderer, serial killer, and suspected to be behind the disappearance for several women, died in an alley beside a defunct warehouse. Like his victims. Forgotten, abandoned, alone, and in the cold. His body would be found 3 days later, when a drunken hobo stumbled upon it.
Abigail Davis continued walking back to her home, humming a tune to herself, even as she imagined the hugs her daughter will give her when she got back.