Realistic or Modern A Call to Kill.

[Funkybub]

19th February 1983, 01:34AM,


The rain dropped quickly from the sky. The only thing lighting up the long path was several scattered street lights. Drenched and tired, two young teenage girls walked through. Despite the weather, they remained happy and cheer, joking back and forth.


“He’s gorgeous Carli.” Jessica said. Jessica had luscious blonde hair, tied up in several small pony tails. Her ruby green shimmered in the nightlight.


“He’s a footballer player Jess, they’re all gormless. I want a rugby player.” She joked back, brushing her thin ginger backward. The two had been to a small house party for the evening, sneaking out against their parent’s wishes. But they had a great time so they didn’t really care.


They would soon come to regret that.


Arriving at a cross roads, the rain continued to pour down, wetting them even more. Leaning against the traffic light, their make up slowly began to smudge down their face. It was all quiet. The roads were empty and so was the streets.


All until a silver van pulled up alongside from them, rolling down the window with some force. The girls didn’t get a chance to react at all. Before they could even let out a yell of help, a long silver machete was pulled upon them. Before either could run, they were grabbed from behind. Bound, gagged and blindfolded, they were violently thrown into the back of the van. The man didn’t even say anything to them. Once they were driving away, the bald driver turned to his passenger, a greasy haired young man.


“The young ones are always the best.” He said in his thick, Russian accent, lipping his lips as he spoke. Driving through the backstreets of London, the gang were heading towards their small back street den.


These teenage girls were only 14 and it seemed a life as a toy to the Russians


March 8th 1983, 07:30AM, The Greenfields Council Block, Tower 3, Floor 23, Room 230, Peckham


The morning news played, emitting noise from a tiny silver television nestled among the large amount of radios, small computer devices and telephones. 3 people were sat watching the news; a tall stocky man with thick curly brown hair and thick spectacles, another man with a large bushy beard and a head with not a single strand of her and a young brunette woman with thick framed glasses. Across the walls was movie posters, making it seem like a normal apartment except with top secret surveillance equipment.


On the television, a woman was sodding with a photo of the young Charlotte Alexander, also known to her friends as Carli. “Please, please, give us back our daughter. She’s only 14!” She begged while the camera filmed, side by side of the Metropolitan police. The cameras returned back to the screen. “Charlotte Alexander and Jessica Wirral are the 13th and 14th teenage girls to go missing in the last two months.” The report continued.


The curly haired man turned around. “And you saw her at the drug den last night?” He asked, in his thick Irish accent.


“Yeah. They were offering girls and drugs. All Russian cock-suckers.” He replied, eyes glued to the television screen. “All you needed was a password and £25 and you could have whichever girl you wanted.”


The trio mutter and shook their heads. “And this is where the rest of the girls are going? One of the missing girls is fucking 12” The curly haired man continued, clearly disgusted by it. “Fucking commies.”


They all paused. “We might as well test if the experiment will be a success. Lily, go ahead and make the calls.” He ordered the woman.


Nodding, the woman collected various telephones and inputted their numbers. Sending straight to the answering machine. And then she played the three very distinct chords, placing all of those conditioned to fall into their brief trance.


“Hey, it’s Amy, I saw your advert in the local corner shop, Sid’s in fact. I need a babysitter tonight. The address is, erm, 32b Square Road. Just come straight in, but remember, to dress for the occasion, it might get a bit messy. I’ll see you tonight. Thanks!” and then the three chords replayed, removing those from their trance and back to normal.


“We’ll see tomorrow morning then.” Lilly said, smiling at the rest of the trio.

 

[GhastlySquash]

March 8th, 1983





"I already told you Herbert, she's fine, it's just a phase." Marian was doing three things at once. She had just finished boiling the eggs and now she was trying to get some toast on the table. It was a quick breakfast, with some coffee powder and milk for Georgina.


However, as it turned out, their sweetheart had overslept, somehow failing to set her alarm. Marian herself had fell a little on the sleepy side herself, not waking up until she heard her husband scolding young Georgina. It was really hard to tell when Herbert scolded their daughter. He usually kept the same, scholarly tone of voice and simply raised it an octave higher.


And now, the two were in the worst of spirits and the toast was burnt.


"You know she's not a little girl anymore." Herbert sighed.


"I thought 10 was still considered little." Marian replied matter of factly.


"When I was 10, my father had me working and going to school." He held up the newspaper, reading the paper with a frown. "Good Lord, the girls are still missing."


"I know." Marian had heard it all over the news. She'd hoped by leaving the telly off, Herbert wouldn't bring it up, but of course the papers had it on the front page. "Must you say things like that with Georgina eating?"


"Not if it concerns her." Herbert protested, looking at Georgina who was still half asleep in her uniform, trying to paint some odd oil painting on her toast. "Georgina, you haven't seen any suspicious figures at your school?"


"No, just that weird groundskeeper at the high school." She droned. "Everyone at my school thinks he's part of some gang." It was surprising that at ten, Georgina was already behaving like some teenager. It just didn't sit right for her age. Perhaps the local high school students were getting to them. That had always been a worry of her and George.


"What?" Herbert nearly spat his coffee. "The high school is hiring some thug for our students?"


"That doesn't seem right." Marian agreed. "Dear, I think Georgina is just imagining it. Her school does have very strict employment guidelines."


"I suppose so." Herbert relaxed. "But all the same, stay away from him, Georgina, I don't want you near someone like that."


After breakfast and dishes, Herbert had finally gotten his suitcase and coat. "Alright darling, I'm off. Pumpkin, don't forget to give Mummy a kiss goodbye."


"Yes Dad..." Georgina bent down and gave Marian a quick peck on the cheek. "Bye Mummy...love you..." And with that, the two of them were off in Herbert's car.


-----------------------------


After that, it was watching the telly and doing chores at the house. For the time at least. Herbert had promised her a job soon, but that the office was still considering some graduates first. Still, what would graduates want with a desk job like that? Marian sincerely hoped she could work for something else.


As she was folding clothes, she noticed the rather odd green alligator mask sitting in the corner. Her friends had asked before if it was from Georgina's Noah the Ark play, and Marian had simply suggested it might have been. The truth was, however, that Herbert had found her asleep on the couch with the thing in her hand.


The fact that she couldn't recall anything from that weekend trip had always left Herbert with questions to jog her memory and her repeated phrase. "I'm sorry, but nothing's come to mind."


Even now, looking at the mask made her feel naked. She hated not knowing what was going on, but she decided that whatever it was could wait for now.


That was when she heard the phone ring. Heading downstairs to get it, she was surprised to hear it go into answering. Suddenly, three chords caused Marian to freeze in place, her mind going blank.


Sue Snaggletooth wasn't Marian. She could do seven things at once if she wanted to. She could just about whack George or whatever his name was with that frying pan for talking about affairs that didn't concern him.


As for Georgina, that little brat needed a good spanking as it went. Hearing the phone brought a sigh of relief. Of ecstasy almost. She'd been waiting years for a call like this. To add some excitement to her life.

“Hey, it’s Amy, I saw your advert in the local corner shop, Sid’s in fact. I need a babysitter tonight. The address is, erm, 32b Square Road. Just come straight in, but remember, to dress for the occasion, it might get a bit messy. I’ll see you tonight. Thanks!”

"Ooo, dressing for an occasion, I better bring the windbreaker and a nice axe from the shed for my work. If only George or whatever his name is didn't lock his .38 in the cabinet, I might actually have a little more fun." She giggled at the thought. "Either way, Miss Amy, consider it done, love."


Three beeps later and Marian found herself still hovering over the phone.


"Odd?" She decided to replay the message, but it only seemed to be about some silly advert she'd never placed in. Deleting the message, and assuming it was just the wrong number, Marian continued with her chores.


(Should we skip to night right after or what?)

 

[Funkybub]

March 8th 2:01PM, St Mary Roman Catholic High School


School kids were flowing into the school as the school bell rang indicating lunch time was. Teachers stood on the doors, watching as the students walked, correcting their uniforms and what nots.


“It’s disgusting what happened to those girls.” Said the head teacher, an elderly bald man. “I bet it was the immigrants. All of them are scum. I hope that Garrent does something about it or she’s going to lose a lot of support from me!” He muttered to another male teacher.


Standing in an empty hallway, Adam stood there, mopping up. Playing in his ear was the new New Order tape ‘Blue Monday’. He had totally zoned out until he felt a tap.


Pulling his headphones out, he sighed. “John, what are you doing mate?” John was a large British African with thick dreadlocks.


“I’m taking your afternoon shift, some middle class man has filed a complaint about you so I’m gonna cover you brother.”


Nodding in thanks, Adam shook his hand. “Cheers mate.” He thanked John. Returning his stuff to the cleaning closest, he began his walk through the city, heading towards his small flat.


The weather was mild. It was sunny for a spring day but there was a sense of eeriness in the air. People were oddly protective of themselves today. But like always, Adam zoned out as he walked along the street as he had his Walkman in. The tape playing was ‘Thriller by Michael Jackson’ and the titular song was playing through his headphones, small little plastic headphones which went over his head.


It took him only 20 minutes to reach to the small room he called home. Placing the key into the keyhole, he twisted and walked into the two roomed flat he called home. It was situated above a corner shop. His bedroom was oddly conflicting. On the side of his room with the small vinyl player and a television set, the walls were scattered in concert and movie posters from the previous years. And the other side was a blank wall, covered in photographs, news clippings in both German and English regarding the ‘terror’ attack he was involved in. Strings attached photos to clippings and vice versa. To the average person, this was complete gibberish but to Adam, this was the one thing keeping him alive.


Flicking on the television, Adam opened the small box of crackers and began nibbling on some while watching the news. Standing outside Downing Street was Prime Minister Garrent. She was giving a speech regarding the missing girls.


“Today, I consulted with the Home Office and the Metropolitan Police. It pains me to see what is happening on the streets of our great country, right in the…”


Adam got bored. It didn’t interest him. Instead, he was now watching Top of the Pops, with Kim Wilde performing.


That was when he noticed his answer machine flashing. Standing up, he wandered over and pressed the button down. The chords rang through the room, sending Adam into his trance.


He got his orders and he knew what that meant. And then the chords rang through again, releasing him from the trance.


Replaying the message, he shrugged it off as a miscall. But tonight would be the night that the experiment would be a success.


As the sun began to set, Lilly set out another call. This time, it was purely just the chords which would set the Midnight Walkers into their fit of rage. Along with the order. “Wait for your friends and then have some fun. Redial this number once you finish.”

 

[GhastlySquash]

March 8th 6:04 PM


"How was school, Pumpkin?" Marian smiled, laying down the shepherd's pie at the table along with a carton of orange juice. "Did you learn anything?"


"Yeah, just math and stuff." Georgina answered quietly, playing with her fork. "Hey Daddy, can I go to the pictures tonight?"


"With who and whose parent?" Herbert asked, pouring himself another cup of coffee. He'd probably be out tonight for a late meeting, but Herbert always tried to make it home for dinner. It was always sweet of him to consider them, but Marian worried what it did for his co-workers. If they thought ill of him for leaving work just to eat a dinner at 6.


"Just me and Becca." Georgina took a bite, but seemed to squirm at the taste. There was a time where she use to gobble Marian's cooking, even though she knew she was far from perfect. "Mum, I'm not hungry, can I go?"


"Now Georgina, I don't want you to go without a chaperone." Herbert ordered sternly. "Not with these kidnappings on the papers, some of those girls are close to your age." He took another bite of the pie. He too seemed to squirm, but he ate with a methodical, almost machine-like purpose.


"You know, I could chaperone Georgina..." Marian suggested. "I know how busy you are-"


"No Marian, it's not the matter of the chaperone, it's the matter that Georgina here didn't think again." He turned to his daughter, his gaze stern. "You cannot just run off willy nilly and expect any of us to not mind."


"Not mind? Mummy said she could watch me." Georgina protested.


"Mummy is only reacting after the fact." Herbert sighed. "You should know better to ask first rather then expect others to fix your problems."


Georgina turned a deep red, crossing her arms and standing up. "I'm going to my room."


"Not until you finish your dinner."


But Georgina had already run upstairs, and both parents knew that she was planning on eating a bag of crisps for supper. For a second, it was just the two of them, with the tick of the clock and buzz of the appliances to mark any presence at all. Marian preferred to keep the telly off during meals so that the family could focus, but of course, the meal had been wasted again as usual.


"Don't worry about it darling, it's a fine pie. I feel I'll take some with me for late supper if that's alright." Herbert smiled reassuringly.


"Of course." Marian managed a weak smile of her own.


--------------------


March 8, 8:43 PM


Georgina had locked herself in her room, probably with her music and books or whatever it was she did in her room. Marian decided to watch some telly for the time being, browsing through the news and commercial ads for various crisps. That was when the phone rang again.


"Oh dear, I hope Herbert didn't forget his-" Three cords and Marian found herself in a trance.


"Finally!" Sue nearly screamed the words before heading upstairs to Georgina's room. Trying her best to maintain a calm voice, she knocked on the door. "I'm going out to get more groceries, you want anything?"


As usual, Georgina was quiet, but the sound of music in her room told about as much as was expected. Heading to her own room, she pulled out the familiar crocodile mask. "Hello old friend."


-------------------------------------


It didn't take long to gather what was needed. Slipping in a dark black windbreaker and turtleneck, Sue slipped into some of Herbert's old work pants that he used for the garden. After scavenging in the shed, she was able to pull out a small screwdriver and a pair of shears, which she fitted into a small black backpack.


After that, she had to pay a cab, giving a destination that was a couple blocks from where she was actually heading. The driver didn't talk much, which left Sue with a satisfied smile. She was too busy counting the cars and funny people that came out at night.


Nothing like the boring suburban twats that waddled in the street like little penguins, trying to act all civilized and hiding their borderline anxiety. They must have all banded together in fear of the outside, but in truth, all of her neighbors resented each other.


Sue didn't blame them as she paid her fee to the cab, walking out into a street that could only be described as a wasteland.


She remembered a time, or rather Marian's memory, remembered a time when there use to be a corner shop and family owned restaurant at every corner. Now, the signs remained, but the families were gone. Nothing but literal holes in the wall remained, populated by kids dressed as punks and those seeking shelter.


On the brick walls, spray paint for various political rights groups screamed their opinion, some demanding peace, while others bloodshed.


And of course, a nice mural had adorned the wall of what looked like an old two story department store. It was a zoo, with all kinds of animals running about. From lions and tigers, to rabbits and apes, to roosters and farm animals. Even the crocodile, Sue's favorite, was there.


"It's too bad Marian's too petrified to visit a zoo. Poor sod couldn't even handle a simple trip to the woods."


Now was the waiting game. Sue began counting the vagrants in the street, then she moved on to cars and then pigeons.


She never felt more alive than now. The talk of dinner and daily struggles bored her. Now was the time to do something worthwhile. Here, she could be the kind of predator she wanted to be without feeling imposed on.

 

[Bazmund]

An owl was what he was. Watchful, and wise, and ancient. He was the one to whom the people of the world paid their homage in books and words. He was the one who roosted in the roof of the library, to keep watch over that great domain of knowledge. He, of them all, would be the most vigilant. He would keep the guard. They were safe whilst he looked on.


Because aside from the patron animal of knowledge and wisdom...


Owls are beautiful murderers.


Dissonant serenity descended on him as he looked down at the axe in his hand.


So clumsy. So blunt. So brutal.


So fitting.





He felt rage build in his veins, fiery and passionate. He was a good man. He was a good man. He and his kind, the Communists, they fought for the people! They fought for justice!


And these monsters were no Communists!





He would take their heads and set them alight! He would tears through the walls of their establishment just as his forefathers had done, in Russia, in Spain, and would eventually do in all the nations of the world! His was the war, and his was the fight! His was the cloak and dagger, deep in the night! Now, by his effort, and now, with his breath, he would bring the bastard imposters to swift and bloody deaths!


He was shaking.





The night air was cold.


He could practically hear them screaming already.


And intermingled with their screams were the screams of their captives, from all the torture and abuse and-


He would free them. Gunther knew the Police. He knew how they worked. He would bring them swiftly. They would earn their keep at last.


And when Gunther had done his part, unconsciously, to save the lives that needed saving...


Well.


Then Hansel would execute the condemned.


And the owl would watch.


Forever.

 

[Funkybub]

8:21PM


"Son, we're worried about you." Muttered Adam's father from across the dining table. His thick mustache still had some of the pastry they had for dinner stuck to it. "All you talk about is Germany and what happened there. How there is a conspiracy. You've scared of your grandmother for coming for tea because of it. Whitney's children are scared. You need to see someone!" His father said, leaving an awkward silence on the table as Adam looked around the room, clearly not paying attention to him or the rest of the family.


Instead, Adam placed his knife and fork down on the plate, turning to his mother who was sat awkwardly beside her father and smiled. "Well, thank you for the bangers and mash Mother. I do love our Tuesday night meals as a family. I'll see you all on Sunday for Sunday Lunch." He told his mother, smiling as he sensed the anger raising in his father. Pushing under the chair, Adam left the house, picking up his coat and heading into the street.


8:45PM


Arriving home, another message on his answering machine had arrived. Chucking the coat onto the bed, he wandered over and pressed the button down. The three chimes rang through the small room and sent him into the trance.


Peter was in control now. He remembered his orders. Even if the orders weren't clear, he knew what his job was. That what the training was. Go to the local and kill every single Russian in sight, leaving not a single one breathing. Despite being a very neat and tidy room, there was one area covered in a dusty sheet. Pulling the sheet back, Peter knelt beside it. It was his rabbit mask. Placing his fist on the inside, a large smile crept onto his face. "Let's have some fun tonight." He exclaimed quietly. Beside the mask was a small wooden hammer.


Walking over to the corner of the room, he picked up a green parka he bought while in West Germany. It was a military green and was wore by the West German Army, on the two shoulders it had the West German flag stitched in. Placing that on, he placed the hammer and mask into his pocket before leaving the safety and solitude of his apartment.


Roaming through the streets, he placed the hood over his head, avoiding any unneeded eye-contact, since that was more or less a death sentence in the area he lived. After 34 minutes of walking, Peter reached the sex den, hammer in hand and mask over head. Off course, he was hiding in the shadows across the road. That was where he saw Hansel and Sue.


"Hello Friends." He welcomed his two friends. Something caught his eyes, nestled under a car with the Midnight Walker logo drawn on with chalk. To any regular person, this just looked like a moon with a large zigzag going through it. But to them, it was a sign of their operator. Picking up the file, he ripped it open and scanned the single piece of paper.


"Hansel, they keep the girls on the bottom floor. Pay them a visit, it's where the clients get to choose which girls they use for the night. Sue, go for the second floor. I'll go for the ground floor, don't let one of them leave at all. Good luck friends."

 

[GhastlySquash]

8:45 PM





Sue nodded. "I suppose after this, it'd be good to visit a pub for some fine refreshments?"


The alleyway led to a dimly lit warehouse. Sue could make out a guy smoking his cigar at the gate. Her hood still up she called out to the man. "Hey love, you got a light?"


Before the man could reach for his gun, she jammed the pair of shears through his jugular, squishing it with all her might until the only words coming out of his mouth was a garbled mess of tongue and blood. Reaching for his pocket, she grabbed the pistol. After that, she moved the body to the corner, positioning him with a bottle to make it appear he was a dead drunk.


Sue then pulled off the shears. Oh this was fun indeed. She couldn't wait to kill more of them. The nature shows always said the first wildebeest caught signaled for the herd to scatter.


"Scatter scatter, little birds..." Sue chuckled. "Croco-crocodile is coming." She began to hum a tune as she waited for the rest of her friends to catch up.

 

[Funkybub]

Walking past the man whose jugular had been shredded by Sue, Peter stared and knelt beside him. Dirty fucking Russian. The doors of the warehouse were unlocked and he walked in, walking to the pace of the rest of the crew, all in step and time with Sue's whistling.


Heading inside, his job was the first floor. The song 'Africa' by Toto was blasted through the warehouse. Pointing at first to the lift and then to the stairs, he gave the others their destination before he returned to listening. At first, this was the only noise but behind one door, he could hear panting and the screams of pure pain.


It was a child.


Gripping ahold of the hammer, Peter raised his foot and slammed it into the door, causing it to fling open. A large obese man with great ginger hair turned, shocked but he still held the young girl down on the bed. She was still clothed, thankfully.


Before the man could even react or call for help, Peter grabbed ahold of him and dragged him to the floor with a thud. The man let out a whimper before Peter turned to the girl. He let out a whisper. "Close your eyes and don't open them until the police come"


The man on the floor started to try to fire back but it was at first met with a punch to the nose, breaking it instantly.


"It's my first time! Please let me live!" he pleaded in his thick Russian accent.


But before he could even let out another plea, Peter raised his hammer and struck him, and again and again and again. Peter lost count when the Russian's head had more or less exploded.


"Live by the hammer, die by the hammer." He muttered, wiping the blood of the hammer before leaving for the main room of the warehouse.

 

[Bazmund]

Underneath the mask, his face was without emotion. What use was a smile when the condemned couldn't see it?


But it hardly mattered. The Owl was enough.


He stalked in last, his head twitching around to observe the scene, the owl mask moving sharply and predatorially.


A man screaming in Russian rushed him from the side but received the top of the axe to his throat for the trouble, and went down choking.


Hansel raised it once, brought it down once, and kept walking.


It was not long before he found the basement.


As many as thirty children, of moderately varying ages, vastly varying states of dress, and almost identical states of bruising and abuse, were all cuffed to fixtures around the basement wall.


Hansel smiled until they saw him, and began to react.


Some backed away in fear, some froze, and some... Some just sat in silence and waited.


He gave a snarl of rage.


"Who the fuck are you?" The Brit in charge of the basement growled. "I don't got an owl on the guest list, m-"


Hansel threw the axe at him, sending him flying backwards over himself as it lodged firmly in his collarbone, shattering it thoroughly.


Before he could get up, his neck was broken by a savage kick to the side of his head.


Hansel turned to the children, and gestured towards himself.


"Good guy."

 

[GhastlySquash]

Sue was grinning. She enjoyed watching her friends work as much as doing the work herself. Grabbing the gun, she began to tiptoe towards the second floor.


Two men and a woman by the looks of it stood by the gate. All holding bats. It was a shame their boss didn't trust them with firearms. Pulling out her new handgun she fired two shots. One bullet went through shaggy's eye and piereced baldy's ugly forehead. As for the pretty young jewel, she was running towards Sue by the time the second shot rang out.


And, to even her surprise, the bat blocked the bullet. It didn't matter though, as Sue grabbed the bat, wrenching it from her arms before hitting her on the stomach. Just as she was about to get up, Sue turned her over and drove the bat, bullet and all down the would-be hitman's throat.


After that, she just continued down the rooms. Most of the patrons had scattered, probably trying to run. One of them, however, had stayed behind.


"Please, I could get you a good sign at the Church, God can forgive you for this!" The man pleaded. The young boy beside him couldn't be older than Sue's daughter.


Sue tilted her head back, seemingly convinced by the man's statement.


"Oh bless you." The man bent down, trying to kiss her boots. That was the mistake. With one kick, Sue kicked the man's chin up before emptying her clip down his jimmies.


Turning to the kid, she lifted her mask only as far up so that he could see she was smiling.


"You're...a nice mum?"


Sue nodded. Be as she might enjoy some hunting, she couldn't let any hatchlings or youngin's get hurt in the process. She was a mother herself after all!

 

[Bazmund]

The phone was easy to find. They took calls from clients down here after all.


He picked it up and dialed the emergency number.


"Hello, please state your e-"


"Paedophile sex den. Children throughout building, but mostly locked in basement. They are safe. Building will be clear when you arrive. Trace this number." He growled down the line, thickening his German accent to mask his identity somewhat.


"Who is this?" The dispatcher asked - but he had already left the line hanging.


The children backed away in fear, mindless and scared, before he opened one of the doors to the holding pens - more like a meat locker without the refrigeration unit - and gestured for them to get inside.


They obeyed.


He gave the oldest girl - about 14 and horribly bruised - the key.


"Lock door. Police coming. You are safe now."


"Thank you, sir."


"You do not have to call me, or anyone else, sir. You are my equal." He said, not dropping the German accent, or his monotone.


"Thank you."


As the others filed into the room, she hugged him briefly, before joining them and locking the door.


Just in time as well.


Because just then, six clients entered the cellar, carrying machetes and switchblades.


Underneath the mask, Hansel smiled.


At least three of them he recognised as te manservants of previous members of parliament.


"What the fuck?!"


"Du bist die beute und ich bin die jäger." He growled in German, before letting loose upon them.


It was a good day.

 

[Funkybub]

Finding the final Russian in the ground floor of the warehouse, Peter dropped his hammer to the floor. The Russian was screaming in broken English. Holding the man down with his feet, the man squirmed and tried to manever himself away, but Peter's foot held him down. This was his final resting place.


Raising his feet, Peter began to kick him, kicking him in the kidney. With each hit, the man let out a scream of pain but Peter wasn't letting him get out this easy. After several kicks, Peter introduced some punches into the mix. Flipping the man over so he could look directly into the eyes of the communist below him. Peter smiled as he continued to punch him, the leather of his gloves hitting the skin of the man with some force.


But then, something caught his eyes. A backdoor, leading onto a street. There was blood flowing from the man's nose as he was violently dragged from the main floor to the street. A single street light basked the two of them in light. Sirens were heard coming in the distance and the music from the sex den escaped via the door.


Forcing open the bloodied Russian's mouth, Peter dragged him down to the curb, before forcing him to bite down hard by pushing his head on the curb. The man was sobbing but the curb removed most of the noise from the sobs. Instead, Peter walked closer to him, placing his boot onto the top of the man's head. And slowly raised it.


Before bringing it directly down on the man's head.


Crunch.


Instant but extremely painfully as the teeth and jaw became busted, causing extreme truma to the brain before the neck was snapped. All in an instant.


Remember his orders, Peter just smiled, removing his mask but kept a hold of it. 'Leave and replay the message on the answering machine' was the order. So that's what Peter did, walking into the darkness of the night.

 

[GhastlySquash]

Sue was chasing her last man outside in the streets. The man didn't get far, what with a broken leg twisted at a 90 degree angle. The man made it about as far as two steps before falling over.


"Oh dear, tripped on a rock, love?" Sue grabbed the man, pinning him against the wall. That was when she saw it. The guy had short hair, so she assumed he had to be a guy. But the lack of an adam's apple and the lame makeup said otherwise.


The girl, however, was smiling at her. "You hide behind mask. Because you are afraid!"


Afraid? Sue shook her head, holding the girl's throat with a gloved hand as she lifted up her mask, revealing her face. "Why love? What ever do you mean? I'm just another friendly face on the streets. The same face you see going to the supermarket. To the store. I'm everywhere. The mask is my real face."


She slipped it back on, before pulling out a switchblade. With one clean stroke, she cut the welp's throat and left her body in the trash heap. "After all, in this day and age. Who really is the innocent one here."


With that, she dropped the blade and headed down the alley. She'd need to wash the shears when she got home, and probably do a load of laundry while she was at it. If George or whatever his name discovered she was out tonight, he would have a fit.

 

[Bazmund]

More than six. Exactly twelve.


They had filtered in so nicely for him, though. So orderly, considering their fates.


Well.


By orderly he meant screaming and wielding knives, but they had done it all one by one - and now they all lay on the floor with various parts of their heads and faces and chests hacked wide open.


The final one attempted a charge, and Hansel span into it, sending him flying to the side, his head flying slightly further as it separated from his body, the spine cut by his axe blade and the flesh torn off by everything else.


He stood, and dropped the axe, before removing his mask and turning to face the freezer door where the children were left.


That girl was still there, looking in a mixture of awe and horror at him.


He nodded in respect, and mouthed 'my equal' at her, before saluting in the way of the true communist party, and leaving via the stairs.


If he were Gunther instead of Hansel, some part of him would be feeling like he would see her again.


Of course, he was going to be Gunther again very soon anyway - and then he would indeed see her again.


But he looked different enough with his hair groomed and beard freshly shaven that she would never recognise the smartly dressed and wisely worded Communist Detective from his bloody and only mildly injured murderer persona.


Well.


Probably.

 

[Funkybub]

9th March 1983. 7:00AM, Square Road


Cameras gathered beside the long line of police tape standing outside the warehouse. Police officers lined the street, not allowing a single camera to see inside. Down the street, two large tents were placed over the three bodies killed in the street, with a detective infront of it, A female report with short red hair stood with a microphone outside.


"Good morning, my name is Susan Hoffman and this is BBC Morning News. Last night, police were alerted to this warehouse in South London. Once there, they found roughly 30 missing girls, aged between 6 and 14. The warehouse itself was a drug and sex den." The woman said. "All known occupants were found dead in what appears to be a hellish revenge attack. Police have not confirmed anything but it's been leaked that most, if not all, of the people within the warehouse were off Russian origin. Another police source claims that several witnesses saw the attackers wearing animal masks, but again, this is unconfirmed." The woman finished off. "We will be staying with this story as it developed. It's believed Prime Minister Garrent will be giving a speech regarding the events at noon today to Parliament."


March 9th 1983, 07:02AM, The Greenfields Council Block, Tower 3, Floor 23, Room 230, Peckham


Some of the TV sets around the room showed the news about the attack. The others were playing the speech President Reagan had made the same day, calling the USSR an 'evil empire'. The curly haired man sat at a radio, headphones on. The radio was emitting a strange sound, a tune almost. It was Jack and Jill, being played on a synthesizer. Before a young male voice took over.


'3 8 34 7 2 3 9 55 B ZS 99 WS 33 88' was spoken as well as more numbers for a good few minutes, followed by the same tune of Jack and Jill.


Turning to the rest. "That was France, confirmed success with their operation. We'll activate the agents in Canada, Spain and Norway tonight. America can wait for a few weeks. All agents in the United Kingdom have been deactivated as of 00:15 Greenwich Mean Time." He spoke to the rest of the team

 

[GhastlySquash]

Marian found herself curled into a ball, her naked body wrapped in a towel as she lied on the tile floor. The shower was still dripping, from what she could only imagine was a shower.


When did she take a shower?


Standing up, she decided to give herself a look in the mirror. She was fine. Not a scratch. Why would there be any need for scratches? Still, she decided to creep downstairs. The dishes had been washed, and a bag of crisps laid on the table. Had Herbert bought some?


When had he come home.


She decided to change into her nightgown and headed towards the bedroom. Herbert was fast asleep, although the open lamp suggested he'd been waiting for her. He usually did when she was out for periods of time.


"What? But I couldn't have been out for more than a few..."


Either way, Marian quietly crawled back into the bed, slipping under the covers. And that was when she saw it. That mask, grinning at her from across the bedroom. Looking at it sent a deep chill down her spine.


"It's nothing. Nothing at all." Marian whispered to herself, pulling the sheets above her nose. "Just a spell. Just a spell."


And soon, she found herself drifting back to sleep.

 

[Funkybub]

Waking up the next morning, Adam rubbed his eyes and sat up in his bed. He had no collection of what happened last night. But he put that down to alcohol, that's what happened most night. Climbing from the bed, Adam opened up a can of beans and placed them into the pan on the hob and placed the bread into the toaster.


But then there was a knock at his door. Shrugging his shoulders, Adam walked and looked through the peephole. No one was there. Except there was a box laying on the floor. Slowly, Adam opened the door, unleaching a creak through the apartment complex. Picking up the cardboard box, he noticed it wasn't heavy and seemed to be almost hollow.


Placing the box on his small coffee table, he used an orange stanley knife to rip open the box. Inside was a single Polaroid photograph attached to a file. Under the file was a VCR tape. Picking up the file, he scanned over it.


It was the photograph from West Germany, of him at the border.


How did they get that?


Breathing frantically, he dropped the photo and file and picked up the VCR tape. Rushing to his television set, he slid in the tape and pressed play.


The tape was short. The camera was placed at waist height in a crystal white room. There was a number of hospital beds with people in them, but due to the angle and the height, no one could be clearly identified. People in white lab coats wandered past the camera, talking about a number of different science related things.


All of them stood still as the noise of a door slid open off camera. All the scentists stood beside the beds, their faces still unseeable. The man walked down, ticking off a noteboard.


"Peter," He said, ticking off. "Sue." Ticking off again. "Hansel." another tick. "Jackson." another tick. "Jarod." and then the static started, showing the end of the tape.

 

[Bazmund]

Gunther was awake and sharp already, as he always was. A borderline insomniac with an obsessive need to close cases will always be among the first on the scene.


He heard the voice of that damn reporter, and growled.


"Hallo." He said in the German accent he had become known for. "No comments, you must go."


"Inspector the people have a right to kno-"


"Ja, they do, but you distort the truth. They deserve clarity, not propaganda. Get out." He growled back at her, interrupting, befitting gesturing to the other officers on scene to escort the media away.


"So what are you makin' of this, Holmes?" His partner asked him when they were gone, handing him a cup of sinfully strong coffee.


"Approximately three assailants. Same point of entry. Not much cctv on site but they were definitely wearing the animal masks."


"Indeed."


"Ja."


She glanced at him, her dark brown eyes betraying very little as usual.


Sometimes he wondered why she kept her guard up around him.


Most times he was distracted by a crime scene - or by her lips.


She had very nice lips. Don't look at me like that, it's a perfectly reasonable thing to get distracted by.


"Have you spoken to the children yet?"


"No." He said simply. "Most would be unintelligible with shock. We do not need to stress them to finish this anyway."


"Actually, Gunther, some of the older ones have been making it painfully clear that they want to help. Can you give them five minutes each?"


He raised his eyebrow at her.


"What?"


"It is not like you to ask me for a favour, my friend." He remarked.


"I'll buy you a whisky later. Can you?"


"Yes. But you can buy me a beer instead. I am German, not Scottish. Feel free to have whisky yourself however."


"Right. Thanks anyway. They're down at the station. Three girls I think. One is really beaten up so I had the medic take a look at her, but she'll be ok. Ironically she's also the one most eager to help."


"It is not strange for the victim of the worst crimes to want justice."


"Gunther." She said seriously. "Has justice not been done?"


"No." He looked back at her, equally serious.


She narrowed her eyes.


He smiled.


"We both know it would have been better if it were public."

 

[GhastlySquash]

"Where is this world going?" Herbert shook his head at the television set. "Masked maniacs running around slaughtering criminals. It's the dark ages all over again."


Georgina simply spent her time gawking at the television, watching the scene with utter fascination. Marian quickly shut the television off. "I don't think we need to see this. We should be thankful that none of us have to deal with such lunacy."


"Yes well, I was about to ask you where you went last night."


"Last night?" Marian scratched her head. "I was home, wasn't I? I suppose I went to buy groceries but-"


"You suppose?" Herbert raised a brow. "Marian, I'm worried about you. Having blackouts is not a healthy habit."


"It was just a spell is all." Marian reassured him. "I don't need to see a doctor. It would be a waste of money."


"I don't think it's a waste of money." Herbert said stiffly. "I think your health takes precedence, Marian. I'm worried that something might be wrong with your brain. Please, just do me a favor and visit Doctor Terrence?"


--------------------


Herbert had dropped her off at the hospital. Nervously tucking at her coat, she couldn't help but feel that people were looking at her. Why, she had no idea. Still, it was a pain to reach the office.


Terrence himself gave her an easy smile. "I understand that you've been having amnesia. Have you suffered any concussions recently?"


"No." Marian answered. "Doctor, I think this was just a spell. People forget a million things everyday, is it really that strange?"


"Well, I say let's not leave anything to chance." He smiled. "We'll run some tests and hopefully we should know if this is just a spell."

 

[Funkybub]

Back at the ‘HQ’, the reports were being finalized by the Midnight Walker’s Handlers.


“Gunther will receive his package when he arrives home at 6PM. He’s a perfectionist and he has his routine, he never breaks it so that’ll be fine.” Said the chubby curly hair handler.


“But Morian is a concern. Her package is being dropped off at 1PM. But she’s out right now.”


“Out where?” Asked Lily.


“She entered into the St Christopher’s Hospital. Reported concussion. Currently running tests on her.” Continued the man with the thick framed glasses.


“Send some guys down there, rough up the doctor. Make sure he’s silenced about the tests.” He ordered.


The Handlers all nodded and the order was made.


Arriving at work, Adam instantly saw the large amount of police officers outside the school. Their truncheons in hand. Shrugging his shoulders, Adam passed by them and got to work. His main task of the day was to sweep the halls and dining halls.


Same Shit Different Day.


But something felt odd. He knew he was hungover. But he didn’t feel it. He felt tired but not the normal boozy type of tired. This was a tired he had never felt before.


12:00PM


Televisions around the nations turned on as the BBC news at 12 started. After several screens of logos, the same old graying man who appeared every lunch time appeared. “Good afternoon, I’m Stephen Green and this is the BBC news at 12PM."


“Our main story today involves the murder of roughly 21 suspected human traffickers on an attack on a believed sex den in South London. Majority of these have been confirmed to be of Russian decent. Within the warehouse, roughly 30 young girls between the ages of 8 and 15 have been found. Prime Minister Garrent is preparing a statement and will address the country at 1PM.”


The report cut to the reporter outside the warehouse. She gave her report before the cameras returned to the studio.


“In other news. President Reagan last night gave a speech regarding the Soviet Union. Within the speech, he referenced to the Union as ‘the evil empire’ and ‘the focus of evil in the modern world’. This comes at a time of intense pressure between America and The Soviet Union, after 13 ICBMs were paraded through Moscow and sent to unknown locations throughout the Union. More on this story, we go to Sonya Patel in Washington DC.”

 

[Bazmund]

"Look. I want to go home." Gunther growled at the reporter following him doggedly. He was a piece of slime from BBC 3, and he had been wondering why the lead investigator on the case hadn't been asked a few more questions than he had been about it.


"Come on, Kraut. Talk, will ya?"


Gunther sighed, and rounded on his pursuer.


"Do not call me this."


"What ya gonna do, hit me-"


Gunther hit him.


The reporter went down, arms flailing and voice catching in his throat in a strangled yelp.


"What the fu-"


"Also, I am a communist and I drank for joy on the day Margaret Thatcher was killed. I believe wholeheartedly that good can come only from the glorious socialist revolution of the world in its entirety, with the People at the helm, and slime like the millionaires who leave the poor to the decay of poverty on the chopping block." He said, deadpan.


"Wh-"


Gunther picked him up roughly by his jacket, and plonked him down in front of him, dusting him off and smiling broadly at the reporter.


"What did you s-"


"Me? I said nothing, friend. You were following me home for some reason, when you began to cry loudly, and fell down and hit the back of your head on the floor there." He pointed to the faint spot of blood where the reporter had hit himself.


"I- what?"


"I think perhaps that you have had too much... Whatever it is you've been having." Gunther smiled, and winked at him.


"You- sir, I must protest-"


"No no, it's ok. I may be a police man, but I am understanding also. I'll let you go this once. Just try and hide the needle marks on your arm a little better next time, ja?"


The reporter blanched, glanced down at his arm - indeed, with a mark from a needle, a week or so old - and began to splutter indignantly.


"I just hope you didn't buy it from the Russians, heh?"


The reporter shook his head in disbelief, glanced at his perforated arm, and gripped the back of his head in pain as he turned to walk away without looking back.


When Gunther got home, his partner was already there.


"You're late. Package for you." She said, pressing a beer into his hand at the door, and gesturing to a Manila envelope on his dresser.


Ah yes. Contact from the Templars- or whatever they called themselves nowadays- without a doubt.


But he had not been expecting it yet.


He reached for it, and opened it, pulling the contents out as he sipped from the dark and powerful imported beer, the lifeblood of his homeland.


Well. During the beer festivals at least.


His eyes widened slightly in surprise.


"What is it?"


"Details on the cold case."


"Which cold case?"


"You know which one."


She sighed.


"I thought we had agreed to drop that, and never go back to it."


"And I thought we both knew that promise would never last."


She gave a sharp growl, before downing her liquor and going to his side to get a closer look.


And then her eyes widened too.


But in horror.


"They... They did what?"


"Ja. I know." He said coldly, closing the file quickly, and placing it down on the dresser.


"What are you doing? We need to look at that, Gunther."


"In the morning. You are already drunk."


"I am n-"


He gave her a look.


"Fine." She grumbled. "What do you want to drink when you're done with that? And when are we going to get laid?"

 

[GhastlySquash]

Marian had left Doctor Terrence, who promised to tell her by tomorrow if there was anything to be made from it. Still, she was worried.


She took a taxi to a nearby fish and chips stop she knew well of. Before, she and Charlie would always eat fish and chips together. None of her other brothers ever cared enough to take the favored child anywhere. Only Charlie, sweet innocent Charlie.


The televisions in the shop were still covering that gruesome story. It frightened Marian that such people existed.


People like me...Marian paused, shocked at how easily that thought came into her head. She shook her head, it couldn't possibly be true. She was just worried is all. Charlie would have known what to do, but he'd gone missing for so long now that she wondered if he'd ever come back.


Taking a cab home, she found a strange envelope waiting for her. Picking it up, she checked to see her name. "Maybe it's the pounds from some catalog?"


Opening the wrap, she dropped it in surprise. It was an address, somewhere in Costa Rica. Prying further, she saw the name listed under it.


"Charlie..."