It was a coincidence. A stupid coincidence. It had to be. There was no way they caught up to him.
Those were his thoughts as he stared at the body, his face smoothed into impassiveness almost instinctively. Time drifted and he just stared, committing the corpse, because it was no longer the person he knew, to memory. He memorized the position of the body, the exact location, size, and shape of the wound, the blood splatter, the way his limp, sandy hair splayed against the cold concrete. The way his lifeless, blue eyes gazed ahead sightlessly. The stiffness of his frozen joints. The blue pallor of his skin, affected by the cold temperature. The way the moon peered through the alley perfectly, lighting his features, almost as if it was waiting for him to finish his gruesome task before moving on.
No matter what he wanted to think, it couldn't be a coincidence. They had found him, somehow tracked him down, and they were starting their games again. They still wanted to break him, prove themselves his superior. And they were doing it by getting to his friends first.
He clenched his fists tightly. The first time, they had only targeted him. They had focused everything on him, not bothering themselves with anyone else, and he had escaped, if only for a little while. Now…now they were targeting people he cared about. People he loved. Innocent bystanders. He couldn't run from that. No, he would make them pay. They would regret the day they met him. He would make sure of it. For Jeff's sake. And Shirley's. And their families.
They would never hurt anyone ever again.
He forced him to breathe and knelt down slowly. It was utterly stupid, completely pointless, and it would undoubtedly come back to bite him in the near future. Didn't everything he do always have these repercussions and didn't he almost always deem it too inconsequential to care?
A sad half-smile broke onto his face and he reached out a hand, gently closing his friend's eyes, and somewhere, buried inside he knew it would change everything. A gut feeling, enforced by his own common sense told him that this one action could ruin everything.
But he didn't care.
The consequences didn't matter, and maybe in the future he would kick himself for being so reckless, but right now he really didn't care.
In fact, he hoped someone caught him. He hoped he had a chance to tell his story. An idea flitted in his mind, like a puzzle, with only the outline finished, where he had to fit in all the pieces as they came. There was still a broad range of possibilities, but it was something to work with. Maybe, just maybe, he could make a difference before it all caught up. Before they found him. Before they killed him, he may just be able to make everything right again.
That thought put a vague smile on his face, and he tipped his hat to the body, murmuring, "My apologies, but I have some things to attend to. You were a good man and you will be missed." He closed his eyes briefly in prayer, then snapped them open again, but this time they were brimming with determination. "And those who have done this to you will pay. Trust me, I will have my vengeance. My way."
And he grabbed the fire escape, glancing back briefly to spare his friend a glance, then hauled himself up and vaulting onto the stairs with only a protesting groan of metal that silenced itself quickly. He turned and was gone, as the moon reached its peak, watching them all with a faint light, and casting a glow among the crime scene.
It was a few hours later when the body was found and a startled scream shattered the rare peace. That is the beginning of our story.