The dirty work that needs to be done - Masterminds #1, Chapter 6
The murders around the city had also sparked Jack's curiosity. As the Mastermind of Death, the least he could do was take care of these wandering souls... TW: violence
Jack could smell death in the air. He was near a rather affluent commercial neighbourhood which had dark and deep alleys between each building…
Alleys where people were being killed regularly.
He’d heard about the mysterious murders happening around the city recently, but he knew this wasn’t related to it.
The feeling was almost… too familiar.
As the Mastermind of Death, he’d developed a kind of… familiarity regarding certain deaths. Deaths by specific methods or specific people shared a similar scent. It was hard to explain but he’d ventured out after he’d heard about the strange murders and checked the bodies, as well as their wandering souls.
They’d had a really distinct scent: that of unfathomable fear.
On the other hand, these alleys smelt more like… your ordinary murder. Except he could sense that the murderer wasn’t an ordinary human in the first place. And that they’d murdered before.
In fact, he’d already had to deal with lost souls that were at the mercy of their killings quite a few times before.
Back at it, uh?
He couldn’t suppress a smirk.
His footsteps were silent as he moved closer to one of the alleys where the scent of death was the strongest. Which meant that the victim had just been killed, barely a few minutes ago. If he was early enough, he’d get a glimpse of…
He noticed a moving shadow.
The murderer was still there.
Suddenly, he heard a high-pitched sound, then felt pain in his left shoulder. He winced as he grasped the hilt of the dagger that had just pierced his skin and pulled it out.
He looked down at his own blood slowly dripping out of the wound.
The shadow coming from the alley grew larger as the killer walked towards him.
“Oh, Jack, that was you?”
He threw the dagger on the asphalt floor.
“As if you hadn’t known before you threw that knife of yours at me. Why d’you always mess around with me, Prince Charming?”
At last, the killer was standing close enough for him to have a proper look at her face.
The dim moonlight shone over her chestnut brown hair, turning it almost into silver, and casting a shadow over her notorious emerald eyes.
“Come on, you know you’ll be fine in less than five minutes. Also, stop calling me ‘Prince Charming’. Why do you go around giving nicknames to everyone?”
Heila leaned against the hilt of her sword which she had stabbed to the ground.
Jack couldn’t help but stare at the fresh blood dripping off the metal end…
Yes, she was right, for the Mastermind of Death, nothing could hurt him, really. But the sight in front of him still gave him shivers, even if he’d seen it a hundred times before.
“Nicknames are fun. What’s the point of living if you can’t add a little more fun to it? And if you were more aware of the things happening around you, you’d know why I call you that.”
“Oh? I thought it was because of that time I pretended to seduce a serial rapist so I could kill him off in a dark alley like this one?”
“Keep thinking, Prince Charming.”
It was true that he’d start calling her that after that incident… but that incident was also how he’d found out about that side of her job. Ever since Jake had taught him he didn’t have to kill to satisfy his power’s hunger, he’d been on the lookout for people who had recently died… and so he could take in their souls… Once they’d gone through him, it was up to their fate whether they’d go to the world of the dead… or disappear into the depths of darkness.
Every week, Heila was sent a list of the most dangerous criminals in the area, whether they were human or not, and every week, she had to execute them.
In all, she did The Oracles’ dirty job. Like an obedient hound. It was probably a side deal they made with the police…
Especially since he’d learnt that she was pretty much unbeatable in martial arts and weaponry back when she was training to be Writer.
But she didn’t want anyone to know about that side of her. Except, of course, Jake’s wife, Judy, who was her boss anyway.
Ever since he’d caught her red-handed in that dark alley, they’d decided to make a pact. Mostly his idea. It’d turned out to be something like this…
“I need dead souls to survive and you need to kill to keep your job. So how about we work together?”
“Work together? You want to tag along every time I sneak out into the night to murder people? Don’t you have school early in the morning?”
“It won’t make a difference from what I’m already doing now to look for lost souls.”
“What about Nya? I know you two are very close… You won’t be able to hide this from her. And as I said before, she cannot find out—”
“I swear I won’t say a word to her.” He’d winked. “This is our little secret.”
“I still don’t trust you.”
“That’s too bad. Anyway, what I’ve seen can’t be unseen. It’s not like you can make me forget…”
But as soon as the words had come out of his mouth, he remembered that she was still a Writer. His eye had caught the notebook peeking out of her pocket…
She could’ve, in fact, made him forget.
“A’right, a’right, so you don’t trust me, you say? Then I’m gonna tell you a secret of my own… a secret I’ve kept since the night of that annual ball…”
“If this has something to do with Nya, I will make sure to personally torture you to death.”
He’d laughed at that reaction… Overprotective much?
“Not at all. Actually, it’s a secret I’ve been keeping from Nya all this time. It’s… that I’ve seen your aura. On the rooftop, when you came to fetch us, I didn’t have my sunglasses on. And I bet that’s why The Oracles’ are giving you these… jobs.”
“You knew…”
“So? What’s it gonna be? Are we a team or not? Let me be the right-hand man of The Oracles’... King of Justice on these streets!”
Of course, she’d had no choice but to accept.
The way Jack would be alerted of her rounds was the particular scent of her killings. After the second or third consecutive kill, he’d know it’d be her and he’d join her to feast.
Tonight was no different.
“Anyway, this week’s been busy so I’m going ahead,” Heila said as she sheathed her sword.
He’d always wondered why she didn’t choose an easier weapon to carry around but she’d never given him a straight answer.
She’d told him before that Writers could choose a particular weapon of their choice to keep with them at all times, written in several pages so they could always summon it at any time. Once the weapon was chosen, the Writer had to give it a name, a name that could absolutely not be shared with anyone, especially not other Writers, to prevent others from summoning it.
Jake’s wife had a gun as her chosen one: that he knew.
“Sure, I’ll take care of this one and be right behind.”
D. K. Waye