untitled asofar

Alex opened his eyes, just coming back to consciousness. Maybe it was just the sleep clouding his vision, but this didn’t look like his bedroom. It was dark and cold. He could hear water dripping. The air was ridden with a very coppery smell that he couldn’t quite identify. It did smell like something h recognized, though. He felt something tickling his chin. He reached up to it. It was a piece of paper. He opened his eyes and saw that he was in what looked like a basement. There was an assortment of chains on one wall. On the table against were many knives, stained brown. Frantically, he lifted the piece of paper to his face, reading it.

Dear Sir,
You have been chosen. Congratulations. Not for any special talent you may possess. No, you were chosen because of what you did to me personally. Think back…Think about all the people you’ve insulted, trodden upon, and just generally looked down at. Yes, I am one of those people. But, I am not the norm of the lowly creatures that you can’t stand to give the slightest courtesy to. After years of taunting and teasing and torture at the hands of those like you, I did the unthinkable. I struck back. Struck back against those like you. Those that think you are better than us pathetic, loathsome wretches. And, I liked it. I guess I can tell you a little more, you won’t be going anywhere. Do you remember that club down the street from your house? The one with all the gang members and drug dealers? And do you remember what happened there? You may not because of the anesthesia. It has that effect sometimes. Well, I was walking by, minding my own business, when they thought it would be funny to push me around. So, after my humiliation, I headed home. I didn’t stay too long, of course. Just long enough to prepare. Then…I’m assuming that you can fill in the blanks. Well, you have been chosen. You weren’t as bad as they were. You were merely convenient. I was in the mood, and you had angered me so. Remember now? That little freak from three houses down? Guess where you are now. You sought fit to judge me. Now, we will see how you are judged…

Severely,
Azrael


Now in the grip of utmost terror, Alex started to get up to run away. But found he couldn’t move. Looking down, fearing to see, he found that his legs stopped at the knee. Now he knew where the smell was coming from. And blackness took him again.



Dani woke up with his alarm screeching some god-awful popular song at him. It certainly kept him from going back to sleep, for fear of nightmares. He hit the snooze button, then crawled around on the bedside table, looking for the remote. Feeling the rubber buttons on the cold plastic, he reaches for the all-too-familiar Play button. The music blasted from the 200 watts on the opposite wall. “Death of Me” by Calabrese he thought, his mind immediately recognizing the telltale blood-curdling shriek in the intro. It was a good song, and he smiled. Fighting the urge to go back to sleep, he forced himself to remember that he had to be at the hospital at 7:00. There had been many more bizarre bodies found, and they needed all the staff to help identify the injuries, and comfort the ones found alive. Of course those poor bastards were no help, completely insane, just muttering “Azrael, Azrael” over and over. It was quite unsettling, hearing the name of the angel of death screamed at you all day, while surrounded my corpses and lunatics. He would be meeting Alex there, so he wouldn’t be alone in the morgue. It was always better to have a partner in that sort of thing.
After taking a quick shower, and getting on his uniform, he hopped in the car and started for work. When he walked in, he winked at the young girl at the front desk before she buzzed him in to the terrible things that waited just through the doors to the mortuary and intensive care wing. Upon passing the threshold, he was hit with a wall of the smell of carnage and a myriad of screaming, muttering psychos. Any normal person would be terrified by what he saw there. But, this is what he had been trained for. There were smears on the wall, from yesterday’s group, not yet cleaned. Blood and waste was everywhere, aides working tirelessly to keep the area livable, though why they think these (you couldn’t even call them people anymore) would even want to be alive, he had no idea. He walked into the freezing dark, yet thankfully quiet of the morgue. He switched on the light and sees that he is alone. “Maybe Alex isn’t here yet.” It would be just like him to wuss-out, and leave him to study the bodies.
“Well, I better get to work.”
Pulling down the sheet to just the collarbone, he can already tell the cause of death. There were several lacerations around the neck that could have been wire. The face was screwed up in an expression mixing pain and terror in a blend that could make the most hardened strong man have trouble closing his eyes at night. The eyes were surrounded by thick black circles that showed this person hadn’t slept for a long time. He didn’t look to have eaten either. As he brought it down even further his stomach lurched. It turns out he wouldn’t even have to make an incision for the autopsy. Upon looking at the torso, it seemed that the ribs and sternum had been removed, then crudely sewn back on with what looked like yarn. These were not accidents, or random acts of violence. They were dealing with a real sicko. This wasn’t a normal serial killer, this guy must really know what he’s doing. He would have to talk to one of the survivors a little more seriously. Getting his mind back to the task at hand, he took out his scalpel, and began to cut the crude stitching. He kept hearing a quiet scratching noise. Each would cause him to jump slightly. That was easy in a place like this. With the final cut, he pulled up the torso, and couldn’t hold his stomach. He ran out to find the head of the ward.

“Doctor! Doctor!” Dani came running into the office, covered with coagulated blood.
“What’s wrong? Shouldn’t you be finishing the research on those bodies? We’re trying to get an accurate mental profile of this guy.” He had a way of talking too much.
“Sir, you have to see this. We were all wrong.”
Back in the morgue, Dani and the head were completely befuddled.
“There was a rat surgically implanted in his ribcage?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then where is the rat now?”
“I don’t know, sir.” Now very ashamed and confused.
“If you are going to drag me out of my office for anymore of your stories, at least make them believable, or so help me…”
“I’m sorry, sir.”


Once his shift was over, Dani checked out, and headed for his car. He would call Alex to see why he had ditched him. He would be worried, but everyone in the town was used to this sort of thing. There had been disappearances and unexplained deaths for a long time. He knew he would feel if something was wrong.
Turning the key, the car is, yet again, being stubborn. After a few more tries, he slams back in the seat and kicks the floor.
“This day has been frigging great.”
Looking out the window, it didn’t seem like a normal night. Being parked out back had advantages, but now he longed for the fluorescent lights of the front doors. The only light back here was from that moon. The moon is always seen as a comforting presence. Not in this town. There always seemed a shadow, casting a sinister, laughing face on that glowing hell-sphere. Its pale light cast on the trees gave them life. The shadows on the ground cast not any happy images, but demons and nightmares danced across the cold concrete, wishing, perhaps, to come out of his imagination and bring all he feared to him. Then, looking out again, he sees another shadow. Not those of the clawed hands reaching ever closer, or faces on moons. It was a shadow of a figure, a figure walking near the trees. Dani stared at the trees, looking for this mystery man, but to no avail. All he had to go by was the bobbing silhouette, cast long by the low moon in the east. Then, or so he thought, the head turned. And, maybe just still stirred from the day at work, he swore he felt eye-contact, though he didn’t even know what direction to look. Then, first very slowly, but picking up speed, the shadow was getting longer. Not because the moon was falling, but because the blocker of its light drew nearer. All of a sudden, trying his car again seemed a very good idea. He stuck in the key, turning it. Rev after rev, getting louder each time, the car tried its hardest to start. One more turn, thought Dani, desperately, now able to see a glint of light coming from what would be hip level on the figure. Snap! The key broke off. No sweating and near tears, Dani grabbed the tiny stub of the key, turning with all his might, tearing his fingers. And it started. Pulling off the brake, and slamming on the gas, he started to drive like he’d seen in “Gone in 60 Seconds.” As he flew past, he saw, not the large, terrifying man he’d expected, but a skinny tired-looking man, maybe mid-twenty’s. The thing that burned in his mind was not even the large knife he carried, but the eyes. The eyes that he would see from that moment on whenever he closed his eyes. Burning ice-blue, piercing and filled with not only an unmistakable rage, but a determination, a resolve. By the time he came back to grips with himself, he realized that that must have been him, the killer. And he pulled into the driveway.
Laying in bed, Dani stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep for fear of waking up dead. That face had stuck with him. Every time he nodded off, he was back in the car, except it wouldn’t start. He was stuck there, shivering in terror, waiting too afraid to get out of the car and run. And then, as the door flew open, and he saw those eyes again, he woke up.
His cousin, staying down the street, was shaking him.
“I came over to see if you were home yet, and you were muttering and screaming. I had to see if you were alright.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I had a rough day at work.”
“Anything new about him yet?”
“Not too much. We found a note on one of the bodies. It seems to have been written by the killer. He’s a real nut-job, this one.”
“What’d it say?”
“It was talking to the person, saying how he had personally insulted the killer in some way or another. He, like bumped into him on purpose and didn’t apologize.”
“That’s all?!”
“Like I said, a real psycho. What was scary was, that it wasn’t written like a normal killer. It was written very well. Not only is he a psycho, he’s a smart one. The tone of the note, didn’t even seem angry or crazy, just as if he was doing a necessary service.”
“Did you check for skin samples or anything?”
“Of course.”
“Well…?”
“Nothing, absolutely nothing. No prints, skin, hair. This guy is a pro.”
“Do you think they’ll catch him?”
“I hope so…” His mind wandering back to the things he had seen in the past few months. “I really hope so…”
“Hey, I’ve got to go back to my house. Are you going to be alright?”
“Yeah, I think someone in my line of work is entitled to a little nightmare every once and a while.”
“Alright. Later.”

With a nod, he left the room. Dani wondered if he would ever see his cousin again. And where was Alex? Why hadn’t he mentioned what happened in the parking lot? Where had the rat gone? Was he going crazy?



“Now, a Fox News Special Bulletin. We go to the chief of police.”
“We’ve got him.”
At those words, the half-sleeping Jonny flew out of bed and into the living room, where he had left the TV on, as he so often did these days. He had been following the killer for a long time, studying his work. He was a genius of the flesh. Of the human canvas. Now, he watched, nervous that his hero had been captured so soon, so new. Before he could meet him and join with him. He had already been practicing. Doing some of his own. Trying to reach out to this killer. Show him that he’s not alone in striking back.
Watching the screen, he saw a fat, greasy man being dragged out of his house by police. He was screaming, denying everything. That lard! This couldn’t be him. No shame, no pride…no hygiene! This could not be the genius that he had been worshipping. It was time to take matters into his own hands. He grabbed his toolbox and headed out, piecing together what information he could about where to find the real deal. The real killer.


Watching the news, Dani was getting more and more excited by the second. They had found him! Then, his heart fell. They played, once more, the video of them capturing the “killer”. That was not him. They had the wrong guy! Shutting off his TV, he grabbed his keys to head down to the police station. They were about to make a terrible mistake.
Pulling up in front of the station, he took the front stairs two-by-two to get to the chief.
“You have the wrong guy!”
“What?” mumbled he halfway through a donut.
“You have the wrong guy” he rasped, yet to catch his breath.
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“Now, I’ve seen the real killer! That is not him!” Now yelling, pointing at the large pathetic wretch, cringing in his cell.
“I don’t have time for this. We received an anonymous tip, saying that the killer lived at this address, and it came with a description.”
“I could have done the same thing!!! I could have written the same about anyone in the city! Do you have any proof?”
“Ok kid, get the hell out of here!”
Shocked at the insistence, almost desperation in the man’s voice, Dani backed down. He decided on a different tactic. It would require some more time. He’d have to wait until another officer took over the front.


Minutes later, jonny was at the door. He was sure this was the place. Soon he would meet his mentor. Each second he trembled with excitement. Before knocking, he took it all in. Looking around to the dying lawn, the dark, dirty windows, the peeling paint. It was paradise. With the moon covered by clouds, it caused a mist to show in the pale light. The mist made the place seem almost ethereal. This was truly a magic place. Hell on earth. KNOCK KNOCK. The door swung open. Inviting himself, jonny walked in. He felt a right, he was coming to join the guy, right? He looked around and his breath caught. It was just a normal house…No tools of torture, no splatters of blood. A little messy, but nothing interesting. Maybe he was in the wrong place. Just then, he heard a creak. Spinning, filled with the fear of breaking and entering, he saw a man in the doorway. Not the fat one from the news. Just a small, skinny man, with messy hair and heavy bags under his eyes. His eyes…ice blue and filled with purpose. Deadly purpose.
“Dear God, It’s you!”
But he didn’t speak, just stepped forward.
“You don’t know me, but I worship you!”
Cocking his head to the side, as if amused by this strange, babbling creature.
“I’ve been studying you, you’re my idol. I’ve been modeling myself after you. You might have heard of the kills that weren’t yours. I’ve been practicing before I met you.”
At that, the skinny man would here no more. He flew forward, and punched jonny in the face. Crimson flew, leaving what would be stains on the upholstery.
“You craven, depraved bastard!”
Tears flew to jonny’s eyes.
“You’re sick, I would never do what you did. They are attributing those kills to me! Of course I’ve heard! The rats, the rape, it had no heart, no soul, no mercy. Those people were innocent! They had done nothing! You just wanted a fucking excuse! Pushing you? Laughing at you? What the hell is that? I will show you true art.”
There was a flash across Jonny’s hamstring, and he fell. He stared up from the floor in disbelief.
“I worshipped you…”
“Worshipped me? Ha! I’m the bad guy in this story, you slime!”
“I’m…so much…like you…”
There was another flash and Jonny went black.
“I don’t like myself very much.”
And he set to work.

Coming back from the police station, now with his new information coursing through his mind, he headed down a series of back roads. The captured had quickly scribbled an address on a grubby piece of paper, and told him it was the real killer, that he’d been framed for knowing who the killer is. Running now, possessed with the need to not only set the poor man free, but now his own natural curiosity burned. To meet a man capable of such things? He shuddered as he ran down alley after alley, under the street lights, flying past the poor, sad people and places that were now merely obstacles. Skidding to a stop, he looked on to a small house, with chipped paint, dead grass, and filthy all over.
“This must be the place.”
He was now getting the feeling. Yes, that one. That apprehension building up inside of you. The fear that boils to a breaking pointing a flash of turning tail and wide eyes. He stepped forward. His feet were weighed with terror. But, he pushed on, willing himself to fear not. Fear not the shadows that took on their own life in such a damned place. Each squeak of a mouse was amplified by the comparative silence. Each creak from within said that he was not alone. And each step he took told him that there was no turning back. He felt the ice cold of the door knob. With a turn that took a year, he pushed forward into the darkness of the inside. This is hell, thought he.
“Welcome.” Echoed a very deep, mature, yet bored-sounding voice.
Spinning again, his eyes fell upon a sight he would find harder to forget than the car. The same man was crouched next to another man, if you could still call it a man. There was a pool of scarlet spreading in a warped circle. The poor man’s clothes looked familiar.
“Oh no! You killed him!”
For laying in the puddle was the head of the hospital’s intensive care ward.
“He wasn’t worth keeping alive.”
“Who the hell are you to judge?!”
He merely got a questioning look.
“Who named you the Angel of Death? Who told you that you could just kill anyone because of how you judged them? That right is reserved for one, not any sick, demented psycho with a God complex !”
“Let me tell you something. Here, (He gestured around to his horrid haven of murder and depravity) I am God.” And with crushing finality, he moved forward, Dani frozen with fear.


“We have found the real killer!”
The ecstatic newsman sounded out of the TV into Dani’s empty living room.
“There was a serious mistake made in our evidence pointing to the killer. We have released the one falsely accused and have the true killer in custody as we speak. Now to the chief of police again.”
“We came to this address following a man who had just left the station. When we got there, he was standing over the body of the head of one of our hospital wards. Here’s the bastard, now.” He pointed to three men, Dani with an officer on each side. Dani was covered crimson and screaming.
“Azrael! Azrael!
“Truly chilling. It will be good to be able to sleep soundly once more in our fair city.” The newsman looked to the teleprompter. “And in other news…”

And somewhere, watching a television in another house in another town, Azrael laughed.