by Katy Rose
Guess we will find out. For now, I am enjoying taking out the trash. I feel like a superhero. Maybe like Deadpool. He doesn’t get enough fucking credit if you ask me. All the other superheroes don’t feel real enough. I mean how are you going to look down the barrel of a gun and not say fuck?
A little more blue and I think the eyes are done. Do mine look so emotionless and dead? No wonder people always assume I’m high or have resting bitch face. I do, and I usually am, but that is beside the point. I do have other attributes I suppose. I am funny, I think. I have a decent size eight figure with decent breasts. They aren’t super model-worthy, but I am definitely not embarrassed to walk around naked. I don’t see the big deal in dating or men. I don’t particularly have a preference for men or women. I fall somewhere in between. Love is love, and I seem not to have much. Maybe it is buried? Would I even want to have it turned on? No one would be safe with me. I am a monster, a scorpion or poisonous snake. I might be attractive, but I am deadly.
I think I might dye my hair. I think lavender would look good. It is pretty and subtle. Not a drastic change like black or dark green. It would be different. Hmmm. I also need to go and get the sports schedule for George Carmichael. I think he has basketball practice in the mornings. I know he has a part-time job at his father's office downtown. Maybe I will take Kaleb down there and see if we can’t get some answers from our old pal. He is the last of the lacrosse douche bags. It could be the perfect way to lay the evidence out to get caught.
Class ends and I talk Professor Mellum into reading my paper and letting me know what she really thinks. I grab my bag and head out the door toward the commons area. I need a coffee and somewhere quiet to get the schedules and check up on President Walker. Grabbing my mocha and a Danish, I head upstairs to the library. Facing the commons, I open my laptop and bypass the firewall to get into the security cameras undetected. I see President Walker pacing his office while his wife is on the phone at home. Their house is as cold and unfeeling as the Brownstone used to be. The only emotion is her angry voice as she swathes at him for having to work late again. His schedule is clear though, oh President Walker what are you hiding.
I see George does have practices in the morning and after last week’s loss against Syracuse, I guess they must be running two a days. It won’t matter though; they are not the same caliber. Best time to get a meeting with Georgie boy would be at his father’s downtown firm or possibly after tutoring on Thursdays. It really is hysterical to me that we are investigating both George and his father for the same-sex circles on different scales. Hm. Speaking of. Where is the elusive Mr. Carmichael?
Hacking comes naturally. It is a sequence of numbers, find the right sequence, and it clicks open. Security at C&N Financial shows Mr. Carmichael on the phone. Clicking the volume feed, I put in my earbuds, look around and turn it up.
“I understand that Preston, but Diego is dead, the Elliots are missing, and the others are concerned.” He stares out the large window behind his desk as he listens to the other end of the call. A few yeses and mhmmms are thrown around. “We can meet later this week. How is Thursday? I heard you have a few new gadgets. I would like to test them out.”
My stomach gets queasy, thinking about Dessa and my little Natalia. Who would ever hurt a child willingly? I feel my hackles go up as I get angry. Gadgets? That is what they call their victims? Books slamming down on the table has me jumping out of my skin. My eyes snap to those of my twin — damn asshole.
“You are a dick,” I inform him as I get my breathing under control.
“Flatterer.” Kaleb drops down across from me smirk in place.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. This can’t be a coincidence.
Looking around, he leans in closely “I go to school here.” Flicking me in the head, he laughs.
“Seriously? What are the odds?” pulling answers from Kaleb are sometimes like pulling teeth.
“I saw your bat signal. Ok, no bullshit I was looking for you. I am thinking about taking George out on the town tonight and playing some games. You want to come or no?” Kaleb watches me when he asks.
“Games are fun. What kind of game are you thinking?” I ask thinking about all the work left to do on my dissertation.
“Chicken sounds fun. Did you ever mail those notes you made up?” Kaleb pulls out his phone and proceeds to text George.
“Yeah. Every guy from the videos got them. I think you have eliminated all of them besides George, though haven’t you?”
“No, George and that guy Brendan are both left.” He states matter of factly.
“Brendan? He wasn’t involved too much, was he?” I ask. I couldn’t remember his face clearly so he couldn’t be too heavily involved.
“No, but he was the go-between for Professor Elliot,” Kaleb answers me quietly.
“What exactly do you mean the go-between?” I raise a brow. I am not liking where this is going.
“For Mr. Carmichael. He was the errand boy between the two of them. That is how there is no paper trail. It is up to you. How do you want to handle him?” Kaleb asks me for my opinion. I guess he does in his own way a lot. We are a team after all so it makes sense that he would want my input sometimes.
“I think we can make a note to scare him and extort him. He doesn't need to die; we don't know that he knew what was in their messages.” I finally answer him. It took me a while to decide not to kill him.
On the way home from the campus, I swing by the beauty supply store and pick up the lavender hair dye. I will hopefully look more like myself, to myself. If not in five weeks, I can wash it out and start again. It takes over an hour and a half, but it turns out great. Subtle but different. I have it blow-dried and brushed by the time Kaleb comes looking for me. I am downstairs in my art studio. The plastic is still up, so I take full advantage of it and do some spray paint art. Graffiti looks really good on old doors and sheet metal.
“Hey, did you get that extortion letter done? I can drop it by his dorm or leave it on his car window without being noticed.” Kaleb says as a way of a greeting.
“Yeah, it is on the printer. Use gloves.” I answer distractedly as I continue to paint the message on the sheet metal. “Live your Truth” is splattered in an avant-garde kind of way surrounded by random splatter and a runny heart off to the side. Simple and bold statement pieces are huge right now. If I throw one in my show, it will sell well.
“Already have them on. Hey, nice hair Barney. Were you feeling blue and missed the mark?” He chuckles as he takes in my hair.
“Hardy har, smartass. I was trying to match your balls. Are they a deeper shade?” I snicker at his struck look. Fucker. All men are the same, I swear.
“Hm. I don’t know; would you like me to whip them out for comparison?” He reaches for his zipper as I sit back and fold my arms.
“Sure. Are you going to show your junk to your sister?” folding my hands under my chin I raise my eyebrows daring him.
“I already have.” He smirks and starts unzipping his pants.
I quickly make gagging sounds and turn around. “On second thought, whoever the last girl was, her odor is still on you. Hard pass bro. Maybe after you bleach it?”
“Your loss.” He shrugs and zips up his pants before smiling at me and picking up the blackmail letter. “It suits you. Lavender is lovely. It is supposed to bring about peace and purification and happiness.”
“My idea of peace and happiness is different than most others.” I think aloud.
“So? I didn’t know happiness had a checklist. I thought it was an abstract thought or feeling.” On the word feeling, he gives a violent shudder and makes a sick face.
Chuckling I shrug and go back to my art. “Call if you need anything.”
“You know I won’t, but let’s pretend I will.” He turns and vanishes out the door without another word.
A few hours later, I am up in my room half asleep when I hear the front door open and the alarm set. Heavy footsteps walk slowly
to the kitchen before the tap is turned on. The footsteps climb the stairs and I count them as the echo. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen before the sound of his door closing is the only sound. I flip on my sound machine and lay back. Within minutes of knowing Kaleb is home and safe, I fall asleep. I guess some things don’t change when you become a killer.
I wake to the sound of my own whimper. Tears have soaked down my face and pillow. I feel disgusting like I have hands touching me. Naturally, I run down the hall and jump in the guest shower. I haven’t been able to use the one in my room since we disposed of Drake. I scrub and scrub until the water runs cold, and then I scrub again. I get out when I finally feel a little less disgusting. I towel dry and look at myself in the mirror with only a towel wrapped around me.
The hair is an improvement, but why does it feel like every time I gain a few inches of self-worth and happiness my mind comes in and rips me back a mile? Fuck. I just want to be normal. I want not to be this monster, this freak anymore. I grab for the nearest thing, which happens to be a vase of fake flowers. I can’t stop myself and before I know it the vase is slamming into the mirror and both shatters. Glass and fake lilies litter the floor. Even meeting their untimely demise, they are still lovely.
Kaleb comes pounding on the door, throwing it open. He looks at my face and then the floor. I blink hard trying not to see the pity in his gaze. When I look back it isn’t pity that I see but cold steel. He has shut down his humanity and went into his safe zone where he can protect me, protect all the girls like me. He reaches out and wraps me in a tight hug before carrying me back to my room.
“Get dressed. Wear a jacket. We have a game to set up. The more we get done this morning, the more we can enjoy it later.” He looks down at my legs and feet checking for cuts before closing my door and going down the hall to sweep up my mess. He doesn’t judge me; he never has.
Back in my room, I grab a pair of tight black skinny jeans and a loose-fitting t-shirt. Slipping my feet into my favorite Nikes, I head for the door before remembering a jacket. Spinning back around, I skip the varsity jacket and grab a Black Sabbath zip-up hoodie. Might as well be comfortable. My hair gets gelled back into a tight braid down my back so no hair can come loose and be left. I skip makeup and opt for a natural look. Heading downstairs, I see Kaleb is dressed similarly.
“This reminds me of primary school when we had to wear matching uniforms. Remember those?” I laugh.
“We are wearing a uniform for vengeance. We will come back and change before we collect Georgie boy. Can’t be out of character.” Kaleb jokes as he grabs the keys to the BMW. “I will drive.” That ass would drive my car. Saluting him with the bird, I stomp my way out the door to the car and get settled in the passenger seat.
“Be careful with your finger. It might get ripped off!” Kaleb grabs my hand, squeezing the fingers before throwing the car in drive and squealing out.
This will take most of the day. Getting all the pieces in line for our projects takes time, but this time there is some physical effort. The rush of adrenaline I get from having a trap set is unlike anything I could ever explain. Now is the time in hunting we get bait ready, in this case, I am the bait. I need the perfect outfit for tonight.
The junction of railroad tracks is called a switch. It is usually one mainline and a sideline the train can enter in case of an emergency. Lucky for us several of the conductors are on payroll to Volpe Railways. The quickest way to move your goods, or so the slogan says. An extra thousand bucks and he will say he hit a deer or not stop at all. It isn’t any of his business as to what is going down anyway. Besides, a barrel to the skull tends to make the most disagreeable people see reason.
We drove around for most of the morning into the afternoon. Finding a secluded switch for our game and leaving the kill bag down by the tracks in a small bin that was used for gravel. It was packed and ready, so we headed home to get ready for that night. Kora wanted to change into a leather jacket and some boots. I wanted to wear a suit. As a host, it is important to look nice when you host people anyway, especially when it could possibly be their last day on this earth.
Kora sent a text to George earlier asking if he wanted to hang out since she was bored. He was quick to respond a yes, and he would meet us at our brownstone, she asked him to meet us closer to the switch at a tavern outside the city. He was quick to agree to that as well. It is strange, how desperate do you have to be to not hear from someone for weeks and then ask how high to jump?
At Ten after nine I watch Kora enter the tavern. Labels is simply a run of the mill pub and eatery. Most guys who come here are blue-collar and a little rough, but they are good people. We have come here for years to escape the crowds. It is perfect for being a face in the crowd. Thirty minutes later, I enter Label’s and locate Kora, who is sitting with George. He looks a little sluggish. I think Kora likes using the RHB because it gives her power to use it against those that have used it on her, that is my own theory though.
“Hey, guys what’s up?” I act nonchalant as I flip a chair around and straddle it at the head of their booth. Looking over George, I see a slight sheen to his forehead and dilated pupils. He smiles at me and starts giggling. Well, that isn’t annoying.
“I was talking to George about playing truth or dare. He seems agreeable. You want to ride around with us, Kaleb?” Kora asks raising an eyebrow.
“Sure, can you walk George?” I ask him but keep eyes on Kora. What did she give him? He isn’t acting like RHB.
“He popped an X when we got in here and downed a few drinks. He should be nice and relaxed.” Kora nods toward George who is nodding along to whatever Kora says.
“Oh. Nice George. Didn’t bring enough to share with the class?” chuckling I get up and wait on Kora to walk and George to stagger out before me. Waving to a few regulars, I make my way out to the BMW my sister loves so much. Kora jumps in the front seat, so I assist George into the back, he accidentally hits his head against the side of the car.
“Careful,” I tut at him like a child who touches a too warm stove. He grumbles at me before hysterically laughing. Lord or whoever is above help me not to jump the gun and kill him too soon. Driving to the switch is fairly quick and completely uneventful. George stared out the window, making a constant stream of commentary. Joy. I was worried he was misjudged, but nope. Rich douche with an over-inflated ego who enjoys the sound of his own voice rambling on about fuck all. Let’s get this shit over with. I jump out the second the ignition is stopped. I can’t deal with this. I can feel my temper simmering.
“Dare. You think I’m afraid of you, but I’m not. You’re a little rich girl with daddy issues. You are all the same. Do your worst.” George calls out as he follows Kora out of the car like a man on a mission. Crossing my arms, I lean against the signal post. My fingers brush against the gun holster I am wearing under my suit jacket. Part of me is begging for George to give me a reason to put two bullets in his head. I restrain the urge and let Kora have her fun. It could be entertaining.
It is ten fifteen when we pull up. The train is scheduled to come by at ten thirty-five. That isn't much time, but it should be enough to get some new information. Kora laughs in an over-exaggerated way. “Okay, George I dare you to lay down on the tracks.”
He looks at her and then down to the tracks. “No way, are you crazy?”
“Fine, you big baby. I will do it first.” She goads him as she matches over to the center of the switch. Laying down, she rolls over and lays her head on one palm. “It isn't that bad. You are a chicken.”
“I am not. Watch. I can do it too.” George gives an indignant snort. Marching over to the tracks, he lays down exactly where she was — throwing his arms wide he grunts at her. That wasn't a smart move. Drawing her foot back, Kora puts twelve years of soccer muscles to work. Her foot makes a sickening crunch into the side of his face. Blood splurging from his mouth and nose a shocked expression crosses his face before his eyes roll into the back of his head, and he is knocked ou
t before his head hits the ground.
Grabbing the Kill bag, I grab the restraints and smelling salts. We tie up George to the tracks stretching him, so his arms are over the track rails. Using the smelling salts, I rouse George. He looks up, bewildered and unsure of why his head hurts. He looks around with squinted eyes until he tried to move his arms and realizes he is tied down.
“What the fuck is this? What is going on?” George begins to get loud. I lean down and try to quiet him. When telling him to be quiet doesn't work, I pull my gun and hit him in the mouth twice. He spits out the blood that began pooling in his mouth. Coughing, he glares up at me.
“Now, now George boy, you are the one who picked dare. No one told you to. So, dare it is. You know, I don’t feel like playing. I do feel like playing chicken, though.” I smirk as his eyes get larger while he figures out my meaning. Kora comes up with a golfing umbrella tucked under her arm.
Kora squats down, so she is level with George's face. His voice remains low and calm despite her words. “Chicken is a fun game. Do you want to play George? I guess it doesn’t really matter whether you want to or not. Like it didn’t matter whether I wanted to have sex with Drake. Free will is a luxury people take for granted. It can be taken at any time. Just. Like. Now.”
“You. You…were raped?” George actually looks appalled. Good. He should be. His friends were sick fucks.
“Yeah, I was. If Kaleb hadn’t come in it who knows how bad it could have gotten. You knew about the games, didn’t you? You knew what they were doing and never went to anyone about it did you? Who does that, George? Who sees pictures of unconscious girls and chooses to do nothing? You are as bad as they are. For your discretions, you have to be punished. Such a shame. You are only guilty by association.” Kora actually does sound sympathetic, for about half a minute. “Here is the deal, George. If you tell me what I want to know, quickly I will cut you loose before the train comes, if not I will watch as the train rips your arms from your body. Understand?”