The night was vapid, lifeless now that the last traces of alpenglow had abated; cars eked by, taking no notice of the strange man debouching from the shadowy edge of the bridge. His fingers were long, thin and nimble, and his body shook from the effort of lifting himself out of danger.
From the darkness cast by the bridges soaring support cables, someone lurked, watching the man closely. The entity remained motionless, only diverging from the still, irenic atmosphere when it's quarry stepped into the road.
Henry Morgan's body was flush with his bike, but in a moment of poor judgement, he had leaned down, forgetting to check the street. It wasn't until the bright lights of an oncoming truck illuminated his shocked expression that the figure acted. A strong arm curled roughly around his middle, dragging him out of the way, before letting go abruptly. He stumbled, sliding to the ground, descent aided by a piece of fencing that dug viscously into his back. Henry's breath was coming in short gasps, adrenaline playing a drum beat in his chest. But his eyes were focused on the dark figure. Whoever it was, they were strong, military by their stiff stance, and most likely female. They were tall, and well built, but something about them suggested a more feminine nature. This was confirmed moments later.
"Jesus Christ, Henry. Didn't anyone tell you that you should look both ways before you cross the street?" A young women's voice pierced the chilly air, sardonic, bored, and disturbingly calm. After a moment, she continued, her voice saturated with annoyance, much to Doctor Morgan's confused astonishment. "Clearly, being alive for two centuries hasn't taught you much."
Henry froze, a mixture of disbelief, hope, and primal fear welling up inside his chest. Another one? Was this a trick? Or was she some how connected to the man on the phone, the one who claimed to have the same condition as him? His mind was racing, trying to think of who it could be. She didn't sound like anyone he knew, and he had a fairly excellent memory for things such as these. However, it would have to be a hell of a coincidence if he met two people like himself within days of each other, after two hundred years of being utterly alone.
However, before Henry could speak, even to ask her name, the women had begun to move away. Panic saturated his movements, and quicker than he would've believed possible, he had scrambled to his feet. In a couple exaggerated strides, he was close enough to grab the women's sleeve.
"Please, wait. I just want-" Before he could continue, Henry was shoved up against the fence, held there by the female figures powerful hands. Narrowed eyes glared at him from a face hidden almost entirely by black cloth.
"The name is Chase, and I really can't have you following me right now, so um..", she blinked apologetically at him, before continuing, with a twinge of regret, "sorry about this,". The good doctor wrinkled his brow, clearly confused.
"Sorry about wh-" his question was cut off by a sudden, agonizing pain in his abdomen, and the sensation of dimming lights. When he looked down, there was a gaping wound in his stomach, crimson blood quickly staining his clothes, thick droplets splattering onto the pavement beneath him. Even though he already knew it was a lost cause, he instinctively tried to stop the bleeding, hands stained red as the living giving liquid slipped through his fingers. He only received a quiet muttered apology before the knife was thrust into his body again, this time higher up. His limbs seemed to double in wait, hands falling to his side. He swayed slightly, pitching forward, and Chase allowed him to cling to her body, arms curling around his shoulders, pulling him close, like a mother holding her child. He was trying to speak, but his mouth wasn't working, and he was tired. The women was murmuring quietly, holding him close as he spluttered and choked, in her ear, head hooked over her shoulder, even as she drove the knife further into his body.
"Shh, Henry, don't struggle, it will only hurt more. Hush, it's almost over." He stopped struggling, the world growing dark around him, even the pain was slipping away. Slipping, slipping, gone.
Chase felt the man go still in her arms, and waited a few moments for his pulse to stop. A second later, she was alone, shirt stained with quickly coagulating blood. Turning away, she looked around, before disappearing back into the shadows.