"How
beautiful you are... my sweet princess..." Said the murderer, gently and
carefully caressing the nun's golden hair. His claws were pure black now, as in
washed previously before daring to touch the precious hair of this lady. Her expression: upset, dreaming of something
unknown to the vile shadow standing at her left side. She? On a simple but
rusty bed, comfortable at least, white sheets underneath her untouchable body
in the same clothes. Giselle belonged to a religious organization, Mordoll
belonged to nothing. He envied the girl when he laid her eyes on him as a
target for the foolishness of this program. They both knew the truth behind
"the game", the city as well. And he knew that, in this wooden
cottage situated in the slums, no other participants would ever find her, not
even the game itself. "You're safe here, my darling..." Spoke the
assassin with noble and romantic words, despite his treacherous and cynical
accent. "No matter how much you desire to end my hateful life, I still
cannot harm you for I do not wish death on you." And his smile went wider.
"... It would ruin my plans, dear Princess Giselle..." He then began
laughing in silence, like the madman he was, finally making an aggravated sound
to his voice in laughter, looking up at the rotting roof where the lamp,
surrounded by merciless mosquitos, the true vampires from hell, resided.
"I shall leave you now, my resting dame... I have... certain matters to
attend to." He told, referring to the remaining participants before
laughing gently again, turning his back to the bed and even stopping for a
second to admire his filthy blackened claws, his diamonds of darkness. His
smile seemed natural during this, maybe occasionally joyful as in frequent
jokes of mockery. Nevertheless, he walked towards the wooden door and, since it
was already open, pulled the handle to himself, turning his head around just to
watch the sleeping beauty on the poor bed. "Farewell..."
This had happened three games before. Back then, he
wasn’t a full blackened, shadowed creature; he still had human form. And his
name wasn’t Mordoll…
A few minutes later, the shadow was seen atop a small grocery store whose owner probably passed away recently since it seemed closed weeks ago. There was a sign like a white carpet at the front of the gate, saying "For Sale" on big red letters. And above all this, the mystery man stood, surveying his surroundings for a single moment of peace. The memory from before was gone, as if it really meant a long break from those involved in this preposterous situation. It would only give Mordoll enough time to reach his destination, and he knew it, desiring it from the very bottom of his heart. And this beautiful, never-ending evening sheltered the shadowy creature even more to comply with his own personal mission, quite connected with the whole game itself.
The breeze. He noticed it when some garbage, some papers and empty plastic bags, danced through the streets down there. The city was deserted and dirty enough to assimilate the crude's heart (if he actually had one). Leaned on that part of the building, both arms resting on the top of his knees, the smiling buffoon admired the vacuity of his surroundings, enjoying the purity of it like an act of some deity; the presence of the tainted angels, or so he liked to think.
“You remember it, don't you?” He whispered as if talking to someone, probably on his utmost memories. Then a flashback occurred, ironically slow where the winds of one's mind began to twist the reality and prepare the scene to be remembered just intact. And there he was, at the back of a dead end street, between the darkness where his luminous eyes were the only possible thing that could be seen. He was watching, silently observing the two people having a very interesting conversation that concerned him a lot. One of them was Giselle, of course, holding down her sheathed weapon. In front of her was standing a priest with dark clothes and short green hair. He was a mature man probably on his 40's, still handsome and attractive, but totally devoted to God. He said:
“The reasonable
thing to do would be to find a way to get us all out of here before the mission
starts, tearing us apart, one after another.”
And she
replied:
“I
know... but I'm still afraid of... some... of the other participants.
Especially him.”
“There is
no need to be frightened. We can still save him, too.”
“But…”
Then the
father took her hands with his and looked rightfully at her, concluding the
conversation with:
“I
promise you... we will all get out of here safely... God will show us the
light.”
“And He did.... Didn't He…?” The shadow mumbled, still standing atop of the grocery store, looking at his bare and dark claws. His smile remained treacherous as usual, the cynical. “He showed you the light of heaven... Hahahahahaha...” He laughed while his shoulders trembled as if having fun of the memory, contemplating his claw for some strange reason.
Finally looking up at the shattered sky, Mordoll stood up and stared at the horizon, at the rest of the city ahead of him, probably calculating the distance between this grocery store and the place where he was supposed to go.
“Don't
worry” he said. “I love that other bitch... She fights well... and we will
definitely meet again... probably for the last time.” He implied referring to Grace,
laughing one more time, as loud as he could. And then... He vanished once again.