Soulless
The car stopped in front of what looked to be an abandoned house. To the untrained eye, it would look like nobody's been there for years, but for him it was different. The man that stepped out of the car was not so much a man as a kid; as he couldn't be more than 18 years old.
He could see dust where it was heavier than other places. How the railing on the stairs had little to no dust on, along with most of the porch. And how plants that had overgrown the pot were healthy and clean of bugs. The rocking chair by the front door had a fresh clean blanket on it.
With each step towards the house the gravel under his shoes would make a soft crunch; each step more daunting than the last. As he got closer and closer to the porch, he could smell food being cooked inside. The strong aroma of garlic and chive wafted through the air, trying to entice him to come in.
As he made his way onto the steps, he ran his hand over the railing feeling the freshly sanded wood glide under his fingers. As he stepped on the old wood of the porch, it moaned with the newly added weight. With each stepped he took toward the door the wood would let out a high-pitched creak until he finally came to the door.
Turning the handle, he found the door was unlocked as if somebody was already waiting for him. Slowly he walked inside the house while looking all around him; observing all that was near him.
Along the right side of the wall was an old bookcase. Some if not most of the books were dusty one way or another. He brought his hand up and slowly ran his fingers over the dusty spines of the books; feeling each book's dust level until he reached the end, where one book was clean.
On the spine it read 'Moby Dick'. He pulled the book out and saw how clean it was. The back of the still had its price tag on it which meant it was bought recently. Flipping through the pages he saw that they were all in mint perfect condition. The only thing that stood out from the book was the bookmark just a few pages from the end.
Above the shelf was another item of interest. A picture of his target.
The picture was four people hanging a fountain in what looked to be Beacon's courtyard. The picture was taken a while ago as his target looked much younger and around the same age as well. All four kids had smiles on their faces as they stood or sat on the fountains edge looking at the camera.
With the book still in his hands, he made his way forward towards the kitchen where the smell of fresh food was coming from. He made his way over to the stove where a pot of noodles were being boiled, and with the noodles he could see garlic and chives in the water. And hung above the stove by a string was garlic, onion, and one other plant he couldn't recognize.
He reached up to touch the unknown substance when he heard the floor give off a soft creek behind him. "It's mint you know. I had to get it transported all the way from Vale." A slightly raspy voice called out. "Go ahead, take some if you want."
He turned his head slightly to acknowledge the person behind him. "I might just do that." His voice was slightly rugged, as if he just woke up. He then fully turned his body around, to look at the man he was talking to.
He was around his late fifties, the wrinkles around his eyes had begun to sag and his hair was mostly gray. He had on a dirty white shirt and jeans along with some work boots on. His hands were covered with dirt, more than likely from digging in the earth.
They both just stood there, looking at each other, waiting for the other one to make the first move. The man who owned the house started to the left, towards the sink. He turned the water on, and felt the cold refreshing water run over his hot hands.
"You can have some." The owner gestured towards the pot of boiling noodles. " There's plenty for both of us." The intruder looked over the pot, but he already had his mind made up.
"I don't like eating before the hard part of my job." He said while walking over the dinner table with the book still in his hands. He took a seat and looked at the person in the room. "That is, my job doesn't have to be hard. It can smooth and easy." The owner stopped washing his hands.
The owner put his hands on the edge of the sink and looked at the intruder. He saw the book in his hands and he had a sad smile on his lips. He pushed himself off the sink and walked over the table. Pulling out a chair, he sat across from the intruder and held out his hand. "May I finish it? I'm almost done and I hate to leave a good book unfinished." He nodded and handed him the book.
Time ticked by as the owner read the rest of his book. The whole time it happened the intruder stayed in complete silence through the whole of it. Finally, the time came when he read the last of the words and he knew what was to come.
"So… this is it then?" He asked. The intruder leaned forward on the table with fingers intertwined. "It doesn't have to be. You can come with me peacefully and you won't be harmed. But if you want to do it the hard way; I can skin the barcode off your dead body. Either way I still get a paycheck." The intruder leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. "It's your choice."
The older man took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. "How old are you kid? You look a little young to be scavenging." Looking back up at his "guest" the features' he could make out was the teens eyes. Both of his eyes had a blue outer iris and red inner iris, as to mark them different from society. The same curse he shared.
"I'm 18." He said while keeping his eyes on the man in front of him. "You're stalling." The younger of the two pointed out. But the older man just ignored him and kept on. "Then why are you here? Shouldn't you be Beacon or Atlas or something. Your job, it's not something someone your age should be doing." The older man took a deep breath and let out a long and very tired sigh.
"I remember when I went to Beacon. It was… indescribable. And it made me feel special." He smiled, reliving the memory in his head was giving him joy he sorely needed. Turing his head the older man began to stare at the window next to him. "It made me feel special because I was… well like you; a proto. They let our kind into the school. I was the first of many that were allowed in and I can never forget about it if I tried." He turned his attention back to the person in front of him. "Tell me. Why aren't you at Beacon?"
The teen just looked him dead in the eyes. " I don't think I'll fit." He leaned forward putting his arms on the table. "You need to make a decision. Come peacefully or else." His voice remained calm and stoic.
"Just answer me one more question." When the owner one didn't hear anything he took it as an "ok". "How many of us have you killed?"
The intruder didn't say anything. His eyes softest the slightest and he took a deep breath just looked down at his hands. "Too many." The younger man's voice was quiet and the faintest sound of sadness was evident. That was the only time the man heard any sort emotion in his voice. After his answer there was a pregnant silence that filled the space between them.
"Then why do you do it?" The older one asked. The teen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He ran a hand through his hair and sat up straight in the chair. Opening his eyes back up, he looked right back at his target.
"Because someone has too."
Those words. Those four words, rang through the air. It weighed the air down where it almost felt hard to breath.
"Make a choice. Live or die." The young man was the first to break the silence. The older man closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"Add me to that list then." His eyes opened back up and his gaze hardened to the person in front of him. Neither one of two men moved a muscle; both waiting to see who makes the first move. The teen tensed his muscles ready to strike.
The older man grabbed the teen's head with lighting speed and slammed it down on the table; almost breaking it in half. He lifted his head up to slam it again, but the teen put both of his hands on the table and pushed back against the man's superhuman strength. Grunting, the teen used his own strength to push back against the man's hands. The owner pushed down harder, but made no progress. Pushing back against the older man, the teen was able to break away.
Once was back up, he had just enough time to see a fist slam into the side of his head. The punch was so powerful it almost threw him into the wall, where he was a bit dazed. The older man took advantage of this and used one hand to grab his jacket and the other to grab his head.
He pulled the boy back and slammed him into the wall, head first. He pulled him back and did it again and again and again. The wall with each hit cracked and pieces of dry wall broke off revealing the wooden beams underneath that in turn began to crack.
As he pulled him back to slam him into the wall again; the teen kneed him in the stomach, causing the owner to lose his breath and let go of the teen. He took the opportunity and grabbed the older man and ran him into the already weakened wall, causing it to break and both of them fall on the grass outside.
The teen rolled in the grass, groaning in pain from his head and body. He rolled over to his hands and knees. Reaching up, he touched the side of his head where it had been slammed into the wall and flinched in pain. Feeling something warm and wet, he brought his hand down and saw his blood run down his fingers.
He didn't have time to react to the noise when a foot kicked him in the gut. The force of the blow sent him flying a few away before he hit the trunk of a tree with his back. He fell back to the ground hard, and heavy footsteps quickly came his way.
A pair of rough hands quickly flipped him over on his back. The older man stood over him with blood covering his face and anger in his eyes. The same rough hands quickly wrapped around his neck and tightened; constricting his air.
"You couldn't just leave me alone, could you!? No! You had to find me!" With each angry word from the man, his grip tightened.
The teens was desperately reaching for anything around him he could use. His fingers grazed over something rough and jagged; with no time to think, he grabbed the object and bashed the older man's head with the rock.
The older man released his grip around his neck as his hands shot up to the side of his head. With no time to waste the teen swung again, this time breaking the bones inside the man's hands.
This time the older man screamed, as the pain from his hands took over his senses. The teen swung again, this time hitting the man in the back of his head, making him stumble to the ground.
With the tables turned, the teen quickly got on top of the older man and held him down by the neck. The older man screamed as he was struck with rock again. With his hands broken, the older man could do nothing, except scream in pain and agony with each hit.
The teen mercilessly struck the man over and over again with the rock. With one final swing, the older man's screams were silenced with a sickening crunch as the rock caved in the man's skull.
Blood, brain matter, and skull fragments sprayed out onto the teen's face. His hands were cover in blood while the hand that held the rock had brain and skull on it.
He leaned back and let out a sigh. Rolling off the now deceased man and onto the ground, breathing heavily. A buzzing in his pocket got his attention and he quickly reached down to grab it. Without looking down at his scroll he swiped it and brought it up to his ear.
"Is it done?" A strong female authority figure asked. He looked over to the body and saw the body twitching with the rock still embedded in its head.
"Yes." He answered while getting up off the ground.
"Good, bring back the barcode." With a soft click the other line went silent. Putting the scroll back in his pocket, he used his foot to move the body to where the barcode was located behind the ear. Reaching in his back pocket he pulled out a knife.
Sitting back down into the driver's seat of the car, he brought up a plastic bag that held a piece of skin with a barcode on it.
Glass shattering turned his attention to the house in front of him. Flames were pouring out of the windows and the fire began to weaken the wood, causing it to crumble on the porch.
Putting the car into reverse, the teen began to drive away, the last thing he saw of the house was the overhang breaking down onto the porch. He drove away knowing that nobody would find the body, as it would be turned to ash by the time anyone got there.
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Hi... I know it's been a long time. I don't have excuses to give you but I hope you guys enjoyed this.
I have to give an super special awesome thank you shout out to JJD who basically helped me improve this story by a thousand percent. Without him this would not be here cor you all to read. So thanks dude.
And if anyone is interested, I am looking for a beta reader for this story so hit me up.
Ok thats all I have to say, so I'll you guys next time. This is z0mbi3 signing off.
