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      CommentAuthorDakoru
    • CommentTimeApr 1st 2007
     
    INTRODUCTION
    “Cut cut cut, cut cut cut, cutting everywhere…” A man sat rocking back and forth over the body before him. Blood covered his face and hands, and he was slightly giggling.
    “My my, Jackie, you have lots and lots of blood to spill still!” He raised the knife and cut her throat again. No blood spilled out this time, and he frowned slightly. He bent down, cupping her face in his hands. The blood that ran from the corners of her mouth made her face cold to the touch, although the cold hands of death did not help.
    Her head was raised, and the blood ran more feverishly from her, now that her mouth was upturned. The assailant smiled, his eyes twitching open and closed, and he gave her a deep kiss. He stood up, wiping the back of his blood covered hand across his forehead. He groaned deeply.
    “Ugh, you are cold, you are gross. You make me sick. You don’t deserve me, so I’m not going to let you. Go away.” The man shook his head violently, as if he tried to get rid of something inside his head. He stopped, turned, yelled at the top of his voice, and then turned back to the corpse. A small giggle escaped from the darkness within his black jacket’s hood. A playing card floated from a stranger who had been there a moment before. The seven of spades, covered in crimson blood.
    An old woman walking sluggishly stopped and picked up a small amount of fecal matter that trailed behind a brilliantly white poodle. The small poodle licked at a small puddle of liquid running from the center of the street while her master was occupied with her droppings. The woman felt a tug on the leash in her hand, and followed the trail all the way to her poodle’s collar. There was a loud bark, a blood-curdling scream, and the sound of wet footsteps. Number One had been found.
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      CommentAuthorDakoru
    • CommentTimeApr 1st 2007 edited
     
    Chapter One: New Discoveries
    A storm raged violently, with torrents of rain tearing at the white house on Walker Lane. The shingles would have blown away, had they not been nailed down properly the week before. Trees all over the neighborhood had been uprooted, causing headaches and many a day’s of yard cleaning. Jake had been lucky. He had somehow found a miraculous way to secure his whole house before the storm had hit.
    ‘This one’s a doozy! Stay indoors! Water everywhere!’ the weathercaster’s voice rung in his head as he looked out of his window. He turned away from the excitement outside to look within his home.
    A small bed with a person lying upon it, breathing deeply sat in the middle of the room, with nightstands on each side. Victorian style lamps sat upon each one, while the left side of the bed had a black alarm/radio. He looked around the room more, noticing that his walk-in closet needed to be cleaned. A few ties, a black blazer, a salmon-white shirt, and a few black designed socks lie peeking out of his closet; his wife’s sat perfectly closed, keeping it’s organized and taunting cleanliness hidden from his view.
    The clocked beep lightly: 2:00. It was two in the morning, and he could not sleep.
    “Dang, two” he mumbled to himself. He walked lightly, his white and red striped boxers slightly swishing as he went. He grabbed a white t-shirt, put it on, and lightly opened the door, looking at his wife as he did so. She moved, rolling to her left expecting to put her arm around her husband, but instead found a pillow. She squeezed, and then rolled back over to her right, falling fast asleep once again.
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      CommentAuthorDakoru
    • CommentTimeApr 1st 2007
     
    A small click indicated the doors closing. As he walked down the hall, he glanced at the pictures hanging on the left wall. One, him stern faced wearing a dark beret, with the American Flag in the back. He was a lot younger then, back when he was a Infantryman in the Army. He had been honorably discharged after taking a bullet to the left thigh during a peace-keeping mission in western Russia. A 10 year old boy, he had to think long and hard about pulling the trigger. In the end, the kid fired first, and his commander took it upon himself to take down the attacker. He remembered the gunfire, the pain, and then looking at the young kids limp body, before he was blown up. They never could identify the kid, there was nothing left. They had a habit of attacking, and then either getting cut down or shot and blown up, usually the latter. Jake couldn’t remember how many times he had gotten into firefights in markets with young kids who would shoot once or twice, and then just pull a string and blow themselves up. It hurt a lot, to see youngsters pushed into such an act of self-serving and selfish action.
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      CommentAuthorDakoru
    • CommentTimeApr 1st 2007
     
    The other pictures, of his marriage, his son, sunset dinners, nieces, nephews, and friends, meant nothing to him now. He used to love just wandering in the second-story of his white shingled house and looking upon the faces of his closest things. That all changed. He had grown distant, acquired an addiction to work, and rarely, if ever, talked with them or his wife. There was also a recently released secret of an affair with a secretary when he worked with the regular police force that his wife refused to let go of. He got to the top of the staircase, with dark wood panels on each step, and had the sudden urge to throw himself down them. He turned around, walked back to the bedroom and opened the door slowly. Slowly, the dim light from the light flooded into the room, on to the bed in streams. His wife, Jackie, rolled over, away from the light. He smiled. His shaded figure loomed over her face, now blocking the hallway’s light. As he looked upon her beautifully configured body, her slightly open lips, is urge grew strong. He glided across the room, silently as his tube socks muffled his footsteps. Leaning over her, he grazed her cheek with his lips; his face hovering over to her ear.
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      CommentAuthorDakoru
    • CommentTimeApr 1st 2007 edited
     
    “I love you. God I’m so sorry things turned out this way. If I could only turn back around and look upon the way things were. I never meant to hurt you the way I did.” He kissed her slightly open lips, and her eyes fluttered open.
    “What are you doing?” She raised her head and looked him in the eyes as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
    “Nothing, sorry I woke you.” He stammered, pushing himself from the bed, rubbing his head. She shook her head and let her body fall back onto the bed, letting out a sigh.
    “You could care less. Why don’t you sleep downstairs, jerk.”
    She rolled over, turning her back on him, as he let one tear roll down his cheek.
    “Okay, goodnight.” He stood, waiting for a response, before reaching over her and taking his pillow and proceeding to the door.
    “Do you-”, he started
    “No, goodnight.” She cut him off, pulling the white bedcovers over her shoulder.
    “’Night…”
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      CommentAuthorDakoru
    • CommentTimeApr 1st 2007
     
    He proceeded to the illuminated doorway, and closed the door with a slight click behind him. He leaned back on the door, dropped his pillow and covered his face as he let a sob escape his person. He went to the bathroom at the end of the upstairs hall and blew his nose. As the water ran under his hands, he looked into his reflection.
    “You’re worthless.” A handful of water splashed against the mirror, as another torrent of sobs escaped him. When he regained his composure, he rubbed water on his face, turning off the faucet and grabbing a green towel to wipe his face. He crossed his son’s bedroom door and decided to glance in. As he approached the crib, Jaden, their son, started to fidget in his sleep. Jake reached into the crib, stroking his sons cheek, and he calmed. A single tear landed on his sons pajamas, and Jake rubbed it away to keep from waking Jaden. Jake reached up and winded up the blue and pink mobile, and sweet, innocent, and childish melodies echoed around the room, bouncing off of the walls to be consumed by Jaden’s sleeping ears. As he heard the door click, he picked up the pillow he had left outside of his son’s room, and headed downstairs.
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      CommentAuthorDakoru
    • CommentTimeApr 1st 2007 edited
     
    The dripping and hissing of the coffee machine indicated the time. Three. He had to be to work in an hour, and had gone another night without sleep. He slowly made his way downstairs, the soft swish of his socks against the carpet stair-steps met his ears as he reached the bottom step. He let go of the railing and walked up to the brown-leather couch and flipped the television on.
    “-there are no determined reasons why the stock fell, but most investors should be sweating, that’s for sure. Back to you Jessica.” The television silently blared. He blocked out the business report on the news report and went into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. The mahogany floorboards creaked under his footsteps as he crossed the large kitchen. A black marble island with a built-in oven and stainless-steel sink sat in the middle of the large cooking area. Extremely bright and shining pots hung above the island from a suspended pot-rack. The numerous and rare bottles of aging wine sat above the cherry colored wood cabinets with polished brass knobs.
    Jake reached out across the polished and clean marble counter to the stainless-steel coffee maker. He opened the cabinet above the coffee maker and pulled out a ceramic cup with an F.B.I. insignia on the side of it in golden-reflective letters.
    “-the situation doesn’t seem to be serious, but the F.B.I. Is on the scene, as well as local law enforcement. We also have reports of city grief counselors handling an elderly woman, but we aren’t sure of her relation to the situation. We’ll keep you posted, back to you.“ As he poured himself a cup of coffee, he saw his cell-phone vibrating and flashing. He reached towards the counter, where it sat charging, and flipped it open.
    “Agent Morris, go.”
    “Watching the news?”, the husky, years-of-smoking voice rasped into through the phone.
    “I have it on, why sir?”, Jake asked, frowning. He walked to his television and stood above his chair.
    “Click up the volume and take a long hard look. We either have a copycat or the guy’s back, the guy's back...” Jake sank into the chair, disbelieving.
    “Oh god…”
  1.  
    Well, that first bit is rather disturbing! I think this one can stay so far, but I may have to institute a practice of putting a warning label at the top for violence.

    I love secret agents / detectives!

    Anemone
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      CommentAuthorTrenchcoat
    • CommentTimeApr 2nd 2007
     
    Thank you. As a slightly shady character myself, it is always good to get blackmail tips. Seeing cases like this one from the agent's point of view is always helpful.

    - The Deadliest Trenchcoat
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      CommentAuthorDakoru
    • CommentTimeApr 5th 2007
     
    Lol....

    Oh no..
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      CommentAuthorSpareChange
    • CommentTimeApr 19th 2007 edited
     
    hm
    hmm
    hm m mmm
    I will keep myself from speculating to much I guess. Gets to be quite time consuming.
    However, if you fail to expend a short period of time relating further facts and evidences I will be forces to consider the speculation outlet.
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      CommentAuthorDakoru
    • CommentTimeApr 19th 2007
     
    Oh I'm not done yet, I have alot, I just need to edit it before I post it because I like being on Anemone's good side =-)))