Disclaimer:
t(-_-t) FCKYEAH! Wished I own this.
Author's Note: Formerly entitled Se7en.
AU/OOC
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Shoot to Kill
He was my I'm just like him.A psychopath.A murderer.A raging serial killer looking for revenge.
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Chapter 3
1:45 a.m.
Colonello adjusted his sniper scope again. Once sure he was well-hidden from the resident's view, he aimed at the room where the suspect's back was turned to him.
Fortunately for Colonello, the suspect's current attention was out of this world. The sniper then trained his aiming red dot at the suspect's lower abdomen. To hurt, but not to kill, thought Colonello. Unless, of course, necessary.
Colonello knew that the suspect was a rich man in his thirties. Well-known. Famous, almost like president-famous. Rich, as if the suspect was just flowing with waterfalls of endless money. Colonello, expected this insane psycho to be an exact opposite, possibly a lone beggar in the streets, unknown by anyone, not a penny to his name. But, this guy seemed to have everything in his life...why did he do all of those things to his victims? All those severed mutilation victims. The burnt ones. The drowned ones. The hanged ones. The throat-slashed ones.
Why? Why did he commit all those heinous crimes? Crimes in which no one with the right mind would suspect him to be on the very top of the suspects list? Despite all of his fame, glory and money, the evidence protests. The last murder a few days ago was the final straw.
Picturing so vividly in his mind, Colonello remembered how he felt the day he received this mission. The day he was thoroughly overcome with grief over a loss of someone he cared about. The day when he felt so depressed, so terrified about what was to come...The day when he finally admitted that his daughter's life had passed. To Colonello, a passionate father with a recent passing of his only child, it was hard to admit so. Imagine someone that you love - your father, your mother or even one of your siblings - just...leaving, gone, disappeared, vanished...pain would most definitely strike your heart like a punch in the stomach. Pain, it grows unexpectedly from within, rooting itself in the most delicate parts so close to shattering like vulnerable glass. It's almost impossible to uproot. "It takes time, but it will cease." Lal Mirch's voice echoed in Colonello's head. Being his loving wife and his daughter's mother, it was even harder than handle the misery of what she had lost. But she had managed it, though many nights Colonello could hear his wife saying ever so softly, with sadness so overwhelming, "I miss you...I miss you..." Simple heartbreaking moments like those just seem to stick to your memories like glue.
Minutes before he received his mission, he sat glumly at the kitchen table, ignoring the scrumptious scents of scrambled eggs and sausages laid in front of him. While avoiding his stinging tears of agony, he stared out of the windows. Raining, he reckoned, as countless drops of silver ran down the kitchen window, emitting subtle sounds of tapping. It reflected how he felt that moment, for it had been only three days since the discovery of his daughter's body...just motionless...dead. Horrified. Shocked. Alarmed. Colonello endured the disgusting mixture of all three.
He sighed and covered his face with his hands. That feeling had indeed decreased over the past events, but it was still...there -hidden, most likely -still waiting for the perfect moment to strike once again. This time, to scar him for his whole life. It could strike now, when he was grieving, but the feeling burning in him was patient, as it knew the moment was about to come, to see Colonello suffer and crumble to depression. It just had to wait some more, the right time, the right place, the right feeling of pain...
Not yet.
"Honey?"
Colonello did not respond.
"You all right?"
Silence.
"Honey?"
Why bother? Colonello sunk back into deep depression.
Lal Mirch knew that he wanted to be left alone now. No talking, no laughing, not one smile. Nothing.
She had to try.
She walked over and sat in the seat next to him, placing her hand in his. "Nello," she said in her melodious tone, "Nello, I know how you're feeling right now. Em...she...she lived a good life. She had a caring father, who constantly loved her no matter what." Lal Mirch paused. "You made her happy, joyful and blessed. God will be good to her, Nello. I'm sure of it."
Colonello looked up; his eyes were dark and a million miles distant. He looked at his wife with doubt etched on his face. Lal Mirch brushed a bundle of brown hair away from her face. She said, "Aya...I miss her dearly too...I mean, she was everything...our only child, our pride and joy...I know that." Saying this, it brought her several more tons of heavy weight on her shoulders.
"Lal," Colonello spoke, his voice hoarse. "I just...I just can't believe that she's...gone."
"Me too."
"Aya...just saying her name, it lightens me...but without her being there...something's just not right..." Colonello said slowly.
"I know, Nello." Lal Mirch sniffed. "I know."
"I-I-"
"I miss her." she finished. "We both do."
The heavy rain splattered down the windows even harder, as if it was sympathizing with out indescribable pain. Colonello, as tough as it already was, tried to recall the bright smile Aya - oh, Aya - she always had on her face. The time she sat on her first swing set in the backyard, the way her brown hair glowed in the sunlight behind her, the way she laughed, the way she called out: "I love you, daddy!" Judging by the amount of pain he was suffering under, it was better off being stabbed countlessly with a stake. His daughter...his treasure...I admit, now, Colonello thought, she's gone.
"Gone." Lal Mirch heard Colonello mutter. "Gone."
Many hours had passed by quickly as if time had become liquid. Colonello spent his time longing out of the windows, arms crossed. Deep down, he knew that there were no such things as second chances for the deceased. When you die, you die. Colonello wanted to prove that incorrect, but, heck, how would he? Doubt settled in.
And there was no chance in getting it out.
"Colonello! 'Lo? Colonello!" It was followed by heavy rapping at the front door.
"Coming." Colonello composed himself and walked over to the door. Once opened, Colonello was greeted by a wet man in a black trench coat. Colonello recognized him as his boss, Reborn from the police department. Colonello was surprised for the reason of his visit was unknown.
"Reborn." Colonello greeted, as he stiffly stepped back to let his visitor in.
"Colonello." Reborn Drake muttered solemnly, in his hand he held a case file covered protectively by a plastic-sealed bag. The Reborn, however, was soaked from top to toe. "A wet day, ain't it?"
"Obviously."
"Meh."
"Reborn, what are you doing here?"
"Important business."
"What kind of business?"
The Reborn winked in a mischievous manner.
"What - ?"
The Reborn silenced him with a finger to the lips. Then, "Later, Colonello. Later."
Suddenly, Lal Mirch, who seemed to notice the Reborn's appearance, came hurrying over with three fluffy towels. "Here."
"Thanks." The Reborn said. Colonello stood dumbfounded on the spot.
Lal Mirch asked, "Drake, living room, if you may."
"Pleasure."
And Colonello managed to return to his original state.
While Colonello escorted their guest into the living room, where the atmosphere was hopefully warmer, he stole a glance at the case file the Reborn was holding. Though the bold numbers were upside-down, Colonello managed to read the numbers, 56-66.
Huh. Somehow familiar, thought Colonello, but where? He racked his brains for an answer, but the memory was dim, and he failed to recall it.
The living room they had just entered was cozy, but the rain's chillness was still present, which sent a shiver down Colonello's spine. The living room consisted of two couches sitting on one rug each. The square coffee table was decorated with a vase of white tulips in the centre. Series after series of family pictures hung the walls. Colonello passed a few, staring mostly at the long-forgotten moments with their lost daughter, desiring for her to somehow return and embrace them as a family again.
"Reborn, what is this about?" Lal Mirch asked, taking her place on the couch opposite the fedora man. Colonello followed her example.
While he wiped himself dry, he simply told us, "This unexpected meeting concerns your daughter's case."
"Aya?"
"Yes," Reborn wiped the sealed plastic bag dry too. He smoothly extracted the case file in it. "Aya, Colonello. Case number 56-66."
Colonello felt his fists clench suddenly. Lal Mirch saw this and took his rigid hand into hers just like the way she did so in the morning. He relaxed and managed to say, "What about her?"
"We believe that your daughter's murder is linked to a series of other murders currently happening in the area, as well as 34 other cases." Colonello was secretly surprised at the number of killed victims. "Your daughter was a victim of the recent murder spree in this neighborhood. She died - "Reborn showed the picture of Aya's covered body. "of drowning."
"D-Drowning?" Lal Mirch whispered.
"Yes, drowning. Her body was found in Kensington River." He showcased yet another photo. A beautiful park with lots of green surrounding it. "Our M.E. states that yes, her cause of death was indeed drowning, but Aya was first stabbed from the back, first leading to blood loss. The killer then tied her hands and feet and dumped her at the river. She was still alive when she was pushed into the river."
Lal Mirch had closed her eyes; she dare not look at both the pictures. Colonello was taking deep steady breaths to maintain himself.
"I'm sorry if this troubles you, but this is necessary for the ongoing investigation. We need to know about Aya - her whereabouts on the 13th, frequent places she would go to, friends, school...anything that helps." Reborn said, waiting for an answer. But Colonello noticed something in his posture, something in his eyes, the way he looked at Colonello so interested looking...
"Aya said that she was going to hang out with some of her friends that night...she didn't tell me where..."
Lal Mirch was close to crying. By the hidden look on theReborn's face, he had won. Puzzled, Colonello quickly said, "I'm sorry, Reborn. Mel can't handle this, can she go upstairs?"
"Sure." Lal Mirch heard this, exited and nearly ran up the stairs, sobbing as she trudged up.
Colonello watched her go. He looked back at the Reborn just as he was retrieving the photos. He returned the case file to the sealed-plastic bag as if saying silently, I don't need this anymore. Colonello didn't like this was he up to now? Was there something besides the case? What was his true purpose for this visit?
"Colonello." The Reborn leaned forward; his voice developed a more serious tone. "Do you know why I'm here?"
"Honestly? No."
Reborn chuckled. "Of course you don't."
"This isn't about my daughter's case?"
"It still is, Colonello. It still is."
"Then why - ?"
"Colonello, listen, we have the killer."
This was big news.
"But -?"
"Why did I come here?" The Reborn snorted. "Certainly not just to tell you that your daughter can now rest in peace."
"Then - ?"
"The police are offering you to do something for them, Colonello. A job."
"What - ?"
The Reborn held up his hand to silence him. "You were a sniper back then?"
"Correct. How - ?"
"One of the best?"
"Sure, put it that way. H - ?"
"They are offering you a job to assist them..."
Silence. The tension was too great. No word came out of Colonello's mouth to protest.
"...to kill this killer, to put an end to his sins."
Colonello was already lost at the words kill this killer. It energized him. It strengthened him. It made all his sadness vanish. He was going to kill the man who murdered his daughter. He was going to kill the man that had stabbed his daughter without mercy. He was going to kill the man who took his joy away from him.
It's all I ever wanted to do.
Kill this killer.
"Do you accept?"
It's all I ever hoped for.
Kill this killer.
And put an end to his sins.
"Yes."
1.59 a.m.
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I changed the plot of this story so here it goes.
Colonello's shorthand number = 56
Lal Mirch's shorthand number = 66