A/N: Day 1: Knight.
Suspect detected at Shakopee, Minnesota, 1st Avenue E, 344 Luna. Offense, murder of eight females; six teens and two adults. Be careful, Blondie. Suspect is known to mercilessly hit and kill, over.
Green eyes narrowed behind the darkness of his aviators, ignoring the static buzzing that accompanied his best friend's voice in his right ear, his lips drawn to a thin line as he suppressed a low growl directed at his target, who stood casually before him. This muscular man- if anyone should even call him that- was a threat; and not just to the public either, this was someone the other had to protect his loved ones- and his nation- from.
A soft whimper was heard from the dark corner of the living room, where two brunettes huddled, shaking in the fear which were clearly portrayed in their tear-filled eyes. He glanced over his shoulder shortly, noting the acceptable distance he had placed between them and the killer.
The taller, older woman had her arms securely locked around her teenage daughter, and watched the scene unfolding before her in horror.
Who knew the day would come where the man she was once married to would return; not for reconciliation or a reunion, but for her blood to spill across the tribal rug of her house. She no longer recognised the love of her life; his usually playful green eyes shining with a terrifying gleam, his lips twisted with a smirk as menacing as the blood stained knife in his hand.
She had begun to sweat when her son, the younger replica of her husband, came crashing in, and threw himself between her and his long-lost father. She could barely hear her own voice calling out to the young man, what with her heart thudding loudly in her ears.
She needed to do something. To break them up. But, she was rooted to the ground, tears streaming down her cheeks in pure shock, and he knew it was up to him to keep his family safe. It always has been.
His attention snapped back to the suspect, who swayed in place as he twirled the shank between his rough, calloused fingers. The exact same object that had been the cause of several bloody, torn up bodies, the photos tucked away in a folder with a case label, which had been sprawled on his office desk for the past few months.
There was no way to ignore the similarity he had with this murderer; their blonde hair askew- the younger's, however, from running his fingers through them when he waited for an opportune moment to barge in whilst the other was probably from the madness swimming in his head-, their bottle green eyes, staring at one another with tenacity; they looked like exact copies, from the size of their noses to the curve of their jawbone.
A slight movement from the older man made him flinch before he returned to his defensive position, his features tensed.
"Back off," the green-eyed blonde hissed, one of his hands poised behind his back, the other fisted in fury. When the man smirked defiantly, it took all his willpower not to smack the smile off the wrinkled face. "Dad."
"My, my, such displeasure. Don't you miss your father though, Kendall?" Mr Knight sneered, opening his arms for a friendly embrace, the blade facing downwards. His grin faltered slightly when his son made no move towards him, frozen in his stance. With his eyebrows furrowed, the much older lookalike straightened, a forced smile gracing his features to mask his distaste. "It's been, what, 20 years now? You've grown up well, being without a dad for majority of your sorry life. Must be hard for you, being teased for such an uncontrollable circumstance."
This time, Kendall was the one smirking, completely unaffected by his biological father's words. He tilted his head sideways, his fringe covering one side of his spectacles before he replied nonchalantly, "I don't need a father figure who upped and left when I was seven with nothing but debts and despair. It must be hard for you, seeing us happy without you. Hard enough for you to kill all those innocent women."
The look across the male's face looked as though he had been slapped. His jaw dropped, eyes wide with disbelief, and the knife slipped from his grasp. As it hit the ground with a clang, the surprise on his face was erased, promptly replaced by anger and disapproval.
Kendall guessed that when Jordan Knight- his good-for-nothing father- decided to come 'home', he had expected to see three cowering figures, succumbing to their fear of his bloodlust and sturdy weapon, as all of his previous victims had done.
The older Knight didn't think that his son, who used to be so tiny and scrawny, a downright coward, had grown up and now towered over him with a slender frame, focused and headstrong as they stood face to face. He didn't know that neglect and pain of being left behind that used to drown Kendall had been replaced by the urge to shove the young man's unhappiness in the face of this monstrosity called his father.
"Why did you bother returning?" the blonde boy snarled, his fingers brushing against the cold metal pressing against his lower back. If his father tried anything- anything at all-, Kendall knew what to do. He had been well-trained on situations as such. "Do you know how Katie nearly got sold off just to repay your damned gambling debts? How mum had to juggle three jobs to make sure we're fed, schooled and have a roof over our heads? Do you?"
Mr Knight opened his mouth to speak, dumbfounded, but his dearest son wasn't quite done just yet. Each word was laced with venom, the sarcasm increasing and more excruciating for the receiver to hear. "Where have you been all this time? Sleeping with whores? Gambling again? Did you sell your soul to the devil? Not that it would be worth much." Kendall ran his fingers through his hair, a sinister smile etched to his lips, his face now almost similar to the crazed look his father had a few moments ago. He took off the aviators and tossed them aside, glaring at the man he was supposed to idolise with a look that could kill. "The Devil would be an idiot to pay you handsomely for a soul as debased as yours."
"Why you little -!" Mr Knight roared before lunging for the tall, slim boy, his eyes twitching with rage. He managed to grab his knife from the ground before barrelling towards Kendall, whose eyes followed the older man's every movement.
Kendall easily moved out of the way, dodging the blade that was swung his way. He removed the metal piece from the back of his pants, his hold firm as he pointed the barrel at his attacker, flipping the safety off his semiautomatic pistol. The blonde straightened his posture, both his hands now holding onto the grip tightly, forefingers resting against the trigger with infinitesimal pressure.
His eyes had hardened, studying his target cautiously as the old man stumbled and whirled around to face him. A look of surprise crossed Mr Knight's face. He stretched his arms in front of him, and, for once since he barged into the other Knights' humble abode, Jordan Knight was trembling, his wide eyes focused on the pistol pointed at his head.
"You can't shoot me, I'm your father!" his gruff voice reasoned, his eyes cast from side to side as he tried find a way to escape the sticky situation.
"Really?" Kendall retorted, his attention not wavering, hands steady as he shifted his weapon sideways unnoticeably. And fired. The bullet grazed the side of his father's face, leaving a reddening patch, before embedding itself into the wall. All Mr Knight could do was stare straight with his jaw hanging open. The blonde smirked, aiming his pistol between his father's eyes again. "Wanna try that again?"
Kendall had expected his father to give in, now that the old man was cornered and helpless. When his larger replica lowered his shank, the young blonde felt relieved. He was about to grab a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, for a moment forgetting his training and the warning his superiors had told him about keeping your target in sight, and lowered his gaze.
Knowing his son was distracted, the other dashed forward, blade high in the air as he yelled out a battle cry. Time seemed to slow down as Kendall's bottle green eyes finally snapped upwards, catching a flash of dirty yellow before his sister's voice rang through his ears.
"Kendall, watch out!"
His reflexes worked quicker than his brain did, his clammy hands immediately returning to their position on his pistol. It didn't even occur to him the clunk of his handcuffs falling to the ground. His fingers, which were shakily resting along the curve of the silver trigger, applied just enough pressure to release three consecutive shots blindly.
By the time the young man caught on to what was happening, his father had dropped to the floor. Jordan Knight turned onto his back, breathing heavily as his body jerked from the forces that pierced through his chest. Kendall could only stand and watch as the life left the man's eyes, the glint in them replaced with dullness.
Three circular holes made the shirt the older Knight was wearing stained red.
Kendall looked down at the blood pooling at his feet and brought his hands down, the shivering fingers still wrapped around the base of his semiautomatic tightly, his breaths coming out in short gasps. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, just like it always has every time he shoots a gun, like a few short seconds of euphoria.
Then it dawned on him.
It's over.
After years' worth of nonstop physical training with the police, and the honour of being recommended to the FBI for excellent service- having been part of a huge undercover project that, in the end, cracked one of the most complicated and longest-running cases-, Kendall finally proved to himself the worth of earning his badge, of being an undercover agent to his country.
They were all free now. He's done it.
His green eyes soothed out as he looked at the corpse of his biological parent. He deserved it, for all the lives of the innocent young women he has taken, for ruining our lives, Kendall reassured himself, finally turning away to make his way to his family's side.
Whilst walking, the blonde pressed the small button attached to his ear, the wire coiling into the back of his collared shirt. A short buzzing came through before it cleared slightly, allowing Kendall to give his command.
"Adonis, suspect acquired, deceased. Send medical, over."
A/N : Well ... I tried guys. I tried D:
Third POV is no longer my forte & neither is action-based genre. But!
This was made for a weekly oneshot challenge that can be found under BTR Plot Adoption Forum! So, if you're a Rusher writer, make sure to follow them & keep up with the challenges bc they're doing all they can (with our undying support & effort!) to keep the BTR side of ff alive. They're pretty active so far & winterchild11's pretty much setting the challenges. There'll be interesting ones coming up, I know it!
Plus, you can get tips & ideas from them for your fics. Or, if like me & you experience writer's block a lot, there are also tips on how to get over them too.. Or just pick up someone's plot & twist it with your imagination! They're all really friendly, honestly. But I'm too much of an awkward potato to talk there. :p
So join us. JOIN US... JOIN. US. :D
Anyway, I find this not really up to my expectations. I had someone betaread this & she literally forced me into uploading bc it's "EXCITING" & "GREAT"... I don't know man. You guys be the judge.
Like I said in Electrike, I'm still trying to get back on track & even that is ridiculously hard. Truth be told, I'm neglecting a lot of things to keep myself calm (inclusive of stupid schoolwork. HAH.) but hey, who ever said recovery is easy? :')
Anyway, hope you enjoyed what this fanfic has provided! Read, review & FOLLOW BTR PLOT ADOPTION FORUM!
Bai *waves*