Clean Killings II
Light in the Shadows
The killings had by now escalated.
Rats were no longer the only targets.
The prey had grown from rats to the dockside gulls to the occasional dog.
The beast still kept to the shadows as it attacked things with little to no warning. The prey had been perhaps insignificant to most — mere animals that roamed the streets and docks of Rhy'Din. They were all in the same conditions as the first killings. Perfectly, flawlessly untouched and sound of body, these animals. All except the removal of their eyes.
Malcolm had seen enough.
He'd eventually decided to keep an eye on this blue-thing from a safe distance and ended up following like a hell-bent tracker. It was the dog's death that had him turn around.
He watched with stoic eyes as the blue-thing stayed in the shadows until the last possible moment. He watched as the dog was barely given a chance to even yelp. Malcolm forced himself to watch as the great Doberman/Labrador stray was brought down with what looked like only a swat across the shoulder. He couldn't watch as the beast entered its death throes and had its eyes plucked right out.
The screaming howl was enough to have Malcolm Atsedes running.
———————
Malcolm ran until he found himself at the entrance of a building. He stood still a moment to catch his breath, then walked briskly inside. He was still panicked on the inside but the former gladiator knew enough to keep his cool if he wanted to get word of this thing out.
Ada Huchinson was your average news-anchor-type lady, about in her mid-fifties. She sat behind her desk on her tea break. Really, it had been a slow, dismally slow day. She wore her usual almost-khaki dress shirt and grayish conference skirt with her hair topped in a bun. Conservative dresser, sure. But she knew a damn good story when it came. It came as soon as Malcolm Atsedes walked in that door.
"Might I help yeh, son?"
Malcolm raked his fingers through his hair and nodded.
"Uh, yeah, um. Listen, I'm Malcolm Atsedes and uh...there's some predator-animal-freak-thing on the streets!"
Now Ada stood up and put on her "authority" face — anyone who knew her knew The Look when they got it. Lucky for him, Malcolm wasn't stupid and knew when to shut up.
"Now lissen, mistuh...?"
"Atsedes, Ma'am."
"Righ'. Atsedes. Why don'cha sit down an' tell me what?cha saw, hm' This is Rhy'Din after all, don'cha know?"
"Uh, sure. Right. Yeah. Rhy'Din."
Malcolm sank into the chair he found in front of Ada Huchinson's desk. Overall, he fared decently under her pepper-spray of questions.
"Now, what is it that'cha saw, hm?"
"Uh, well it was — It was kinda smallish. And blue! I swear, it's painted or somethin'."
"What'd it look like then, aside from the blue?"
"It was kinda' weird. Had huge ears, this long, kinda' narrow face. It had teeth but they wasn't white or yella' or nothin'."
"Teeth' Go on."
"Well, Ma'am, they were — They were like yer windows."
"Transparent?"
"Yeah, you c'n see right through 'em."
"Any distinguishin' features?"
"Yeah. The eyes. Ohh, those eyes. Creepy as hell, I say! Almost looked glowin' in the dark and they changed colours like, in a snap."
"What was this creature doin' when you saw it?"
"It was killin' things. I ain't got a clue as t'how but it was killin' rats — the big 'uns — catchin' birds and killin' 'em and it got this dog. Aw, that poor dog!"
"All right, Misteh Atsedes, all right. Anything peculiar there?"
"Uh, yeah. None of 'em ain't got a mark 'cept the eyes bein' took out."
At this point, Ada gave a skeptical, clinically detached look.
"But that certainly isn't fatal, don'cha know?"
"Yeh, I know, Ma'am but they's all dead. Look all in th' alleyways n' things. The damn critter keeps 'isself in th' dark-like places but you'll find all them animals what?s been killed."
"You sure they're dead?"
"Dead as doornails, Ma'am. Dead as doornails."
That was all Ada Huchinson needed to hear. She'd been at this post for a couple of years now and had heard some strange, even gruesome things. This was a mystery though; a real mystery. Many questions with few to no answers. Upon dismissing Malcolm Atsedes, she started work on her print. This might be a decent scoop yet. Not "The Big Scoop" that all reporters crave, but a decent one.
And that suited her just fine.
The killings had by now escalated.
Rats were no longer the only targets.
The prey had grown from rats to the dockside gulls to the occasional dog.
The beast still kept to the shadows as it attacked things with little to no warning. The prey had been perhaps insignificant to most — mere animals that roamed the streets and docks of Rhy'Din. They were all in the same conditions as the first killings. Perfectly, flawlessly untouched and sound of body, these animals. All except the removal of their eyes.
Malcolm had seen enough.
He'd eventually decided to keep an eye on this blue-thing from a safe distance and ended up following like a hell-bent tracker. It was the dog's death that had him turn around.
He watched with stoic eyes as the blue-thing stayed in the shadows until the last possible moment. He watched as the dog was barely given a chance to even yelp. Malcolm forced himself to watch as the great Doberman/Labrador stray was brought down with what looked like only a swat across the shoulder. He couldn't watch as the beast entered its death throes and had its eyes plucked right out.
The screaming howl was enough to have Malcolm Atsedes running.
———————
Malcolm ran until he found himself at the entrance of a building. He stood still a moment to catch his breath, then walked briskly inside. He was still panicked on the inside but the former gladiator knew enough to keep his cool if he wanted to get word of this thing out.
Ada Huchinson was your average news-anchor-type lady, about in her mid-fifties. She sat behind her desk on her tea break. Really, it had been a slow, dismally slow day. She wore her usual almost-khaki dress shirt and grayish conference skirt with her hair topped in a bun. Conservative dresser, sure. But she knew a damn good story when it came. It came as soon as Malcolm Atsedes walked in that door.
"Might I help yeh, son?"
Malcolm raked his fingers through his hair and nodded.
"Uh, yeah, um. Listen, I'm Malcolm Atsedes and uh...there's some predator-animal-freak-thing on the streets!"
Now Ada stood up and put on her "authority" face — anyone who knew her knew The Look when they got it. Lucky for him, Malcolm wasn't stupid and knew when to shut up.
"Now lissen, mistuh...?"
"Atsedes, Ma'am."
"Righ'. Atsedes. Why don'cha sit down an' tell me what?cha saw, hm' This is Rhy'Din after all, don'cha know?"
"Uh, sure. Right. Yeah. Rhy'Din."
Malcolm sank into the chair he found in front of Ada Huchinson's desk. Overall, he fared decently under her pepper-spray of questions.
"Now, what is it that'cha saw, hm?"
"Uh, well it was — It was kinda smallish. And blue! I swear, it's painted or somethin'."
"What'd it look like then, aside from the blue?"
"It was kinda' weird. Had huge ears, this long, kinda' narrow face. It had teeth but they wasn't white or yella' or nothin'."
"Teeth' Go on."
"Well, Ma'am, they were — They were like yer windows."
"Transparent?"
"Yeah, you c'n see right through 'em."
"Any distinguishin' features?"
"Yeah. The eyes. Ohh, those eyes. Creepy as hell, I say! Almost looked glowin' in the dark and they changed colours like, in a snap."
"What was this creature doin' when you saw it?"
"It was killin' things. I ain't got a clue as t'how but it was killin' rats — the big 'uns — catchin' birds and killin' 'em and it got this dog. Aw, that poor dog!"
"All right, Misteh Atsedes, all right. Anything peculiar there?"
"Uh, yeah. None of 'em ain't got a mark 'cept the eyes bein' took out."
At this point, Ada gave a skeptical, clinically detached look.
"But that certainly isn't fatal, don'cha know?"
"Yeh, I know, Ma'am but they's all dead. Look all in th' alleyways n' things. The damn critter keeps 'isself in th' dark-like places but you'll find all them animals what?s been killed."
"You sure they're dead?"
"Dead as doornails, Ma'am. Dead as doornails."
That was all Ada Huchinson needed to hear. She'd been at this post for a couple of years now and had heard some strange, even gruesome things. This was a mystery though; a real mystery. Many questions with few to no answers. Upon dismissing Malcolm Atsedes, she started work on her print. This might be a decent scoop yet. Not "The Big Scoop" that all reporters crave, but a decent one.
And that suited her just fine.