September 15th, 1997-Selena Mason.

Now that that was done, Kael Simons knew exactly what he had to do. He had to find Selena Mason, record every last one of her songs, kill her, steal her flute, and then...begin to get his life back on track.

The only problem was, he hadn't the faintest idea where Selena Mason might be.

Of course, the pain in his arm certainly wasn't helping his case at all-but he knew why Ray wanted to do something like that. He was into all the promises sort of shit-though Kael didn't blame him, no, not in the slightest. Poor Ray hadn't had much of a childhood-the meaning of 'I promise' meant absolutely nothing to him-he had been stolen from, beaten on numerous occasions...

Kael sighed. He was happy that Ray and the others had been so nice to him, even cutting their arms to make a Blood Promise to him, but...he didn't like everything to be about him.

But what Ray and the others were doing, fucking their own lives up, just so that Kael could get his own back on track...that was something else entirely. How could he possibly pay his friends back? Offer to be a test subject for one of Mal's tests? No, that wouldn't work; he'd probably die.

No, Kael hadn't the faintest idea how he would pay his friends back. But that could wait until later, until Kael was back in business-and he had his flute, at last.

He continued on, not sparing his friends another glance. He had no idea where Selena Mason was, that was true, but that was easily remedied; all he had to do was look up 'Mason' in the phone book. Mason wasn't THAT common a name in Mayfield-sooner or later, Kael would find her.

And when he did...

He grinned, fingering his machete lovingly.

"Come to Kael, Selena...Come to Kael..." he whispered wetly, and then he winced. That slash across his arm, it was giving him the shits. He would have to staunch it before he found her. A small delay in the beginning of Greatness. But no matter, no matter; she would be his soon enough.

Kael smiled again, the blood slowly and steadily dripping down his arm.

XxX

He hobbled along the main street, swearing under his breath. He'd ripped some of his t-shirt away, and staunched the wound as best he could (which wasn't very well; Kael was an outlaw, not a fucking DOCTOR), but it still continued to bleed. Many people who passed him on their way to work, did double-takes and took a good, long stare. On these occasions, Kael would flip them the bird, sometimes yelling obscenities at those who were more persistent and gave him the bird right back.

One particular old woman parked in the curb, dangerously close to him. "Are you all right, dear?" She asked, worry etched deep in her wrinkled face. Kael snorted.

"What do you think, you mean old bitch? Do I LOOK all right to you?"

"No, you don't. Is there anything I can do?" She asked, not bothered by Kael's rudeness. He was about to reply snappishly, hell, he even had his mouth open to DO it, but then, he actually thought before he acted, an absolute first for Kael Paul Simons.

"Yeah, there is, actually. I cut my arm last night...and I need to find my girlfriend." At least he could still bullshit well. The old hag looked as if she were about to cry, she was so worried!

"Of-of course!" She cried, actually beginning to weep. Kael was amazed. "Please, get in, Mr...?"

"Henderson," He replied, using one of his alibis. He had about five in total, although three of them had been discovered when he'd been caught and thrown in prison. Gary Henderson was one of the lucky two that weren't. "Gary Henderson, Ma'am." The other was Chas McDermott.

"It's nice to meet you, Gary," the woman replied. She held out her hand. "Sarah Skinner." Kael took her hand, told her it was 'great to meet you too, Sarah,' and asked her if she would get him a bandage, and whether he 'could possibly use her phone book, please?' Sarah said yes, of course, she would do anything to make Gary feel better, and Kael thanked her profusely, running his fingers over the handle of his beloved machete, which was tucked away in his pocket.

Sarah's house was only two blocks away, and while she hurriedly unlocked her front door, chatting merrily to Kael while she did so, a camera flashed.

"Jesus!" Kael cried, startled and blinking rapidly to get rid of the white light that had clouded his vision. Sarah was startled, as well, and she too, was blinking like a madman...madwoman. "The HELL did that come from?" Kael wondered, glancing down the street, his fingers tightening on his blade.

"Probably next door's kids," Sarah said matter-of-factly. "They like to mess around with cameras. Their eldest son, you know, he's a freelance photographer."

"Really?"

"Yes. He's left home now, but...he really was a talented boy. He took a photograph of me once, and it turned out absolutely amazing. He used to love his Polaroid cameras, I'm not sure if he still uses them...His name was Adam Faulkner, have you ever heard of him?"

He hadn't. "No," he replied, perhaps a little too sharply. The old lady blinked.

"Okay. If you should ever come across him, though, do tell me how he is these days."

Kael didn't know what this Adam even looked like. How the hell was he supposed to recognize him? "Sure. Shall do, Sarah," he replied nevertheless.

Sarah sighed. "Right. Let's get you your bandage," she murmured, getting the door open at last. The two of them entered, Kael still on alert, ready for any more camera flashes. He didn't care if it was a stupid little kid, if they pissed him off...

"Here you go, dear," Sarah said gently, passing Kael a bandage; he took it with a grunted 'thanks' and began peeling off the scrap of t-shirt he'd used to staunch his wound with. Sarah gasped. "Oh, my Lord! What on earth happened to you, Gary?" She cried.

Kael had to admit, his arm DID look pretty fucking feral. Some of his t-shirt had somehow gotten inside his wound, along with bits of grass, and who knows what else. "Got cut crawling under barbed wire," he lied, painfully picking out the bits of grass and t-shirt out of his cut. The skin around the cut had gone a dark purple colour.

"What were you doing crawling under barbed wire?"

"My kid lost his ball. I was crawling under the wire to go get it."

No, Kael didn't actually have a kid; but Gary Henderson did, a little tyke by the name of Hank.

Sarah smiled indulgently. "A devoted father. How beautiful. But didn't you say you have a girlfriend, not a wife?"

Stupid bitch. She wasn't meant to pry! "Yeah, but we aren't married yet; we will be at the end of the year, though."

"How old is your child?"

"Hank? He's two."

Sarah smiled. "I love little children," she said. "Do come and bring Hank over one day."

"Sure. Selena and Hank both would love that. We're fairly new here; it'll be good to make some friends."

Sarah frowned. "Selena?" She asked. "Would you happen to mean Selena Mason?"

"The very one."

"Oh, tell her for me that her music is absolutely beautiful! Ask her to come and play for the whole street one day." Now there was a kind of desperate hope in her, as if Selena's music really was gorgeous.

Her music will be MY music soon, Kael thought savagely, now winding the bandage over the wound and pinning it into place once his arm was entirely covered. Still, Sarah begged she could do more.

"I'm sorry, Sarah, but I've got to get back to my girl and my kid. I'll bring them over, don't worry, but they'll be worried about me."

"Of... of course," the old woman sighed, every inch of her oozing disappointment. Kael felt oddly guilty.

"Listen," he said, leaning forward, "I WILL bring them over, I promise, and if Selena can't play for you, I will. I swear, Sarah. But I really do have to go now. Thank you , though; for everything. I truly appreciate it." He got up to leave, flexing his arm experimentally. It didn't hurt as much anymore.

Sarah grabbed his arm. "Gary!" She cried, her face glazed with sudden tears. Kael tried to tug out of the old woman's grip, but she was one strong bitch. "Tell me how Adam is," she said desperately.

"I will," Kael said softly. He pulled his arm out of the old woman's hands. "I'll see you later, Sarah."

And with that, he was out of there, one problem fixed, and yet more to still fix.

XxX

He managed to find Selena Masons' address in a phone book, which he found in a nearby phone booth. He glanced around surreptitiously before tearing the page out and tucking it into his pocket. Then he was down the street, anticipation gnawing at his gut.

Anticipation, and something else. Bloodlust.

XxX

"Jesus! The place is fucking SMALL!" Was what Kael Simons had to say about Selena Mason's house. It wasn't a house, technically-a shack would be more fitting. But what musician would live in a shack, on the outskirts of town?

Kael decided it was probably better if he left that thought alone. Yes, it was best. He couldn't afford to lose his temper now; what he did next was absolutely crucial.

He didn't bother with knocking to see if she was home-the lights on in the living room confirmed that. He simply kicked the door open. It hit the wall with a bang. Someone, presumably Selena, gasped and raced into the front hall, where she was met by Kael, holding his machete aloft.

"What is this?" She asked, not fully comprehending the full amount of danger she was in. Kael lunged at her, and brought the blade up, slashing at her arms; blood was drawn.

"It's called a knife, bitch." He replied simply, smartly. She screamed and staggered backwards. He remedied that by gripping her head between his hands and slamming her against the wall, once, twice, a third time, before he completely sure she was unconscious.

He shut the front door with a snap-didn't want anyone to get suspicious, now did he?

He dragged Selena's body into the living room, where, surely enough, there was her flute, beautiful and aged. It was silver, and it gleamed beautifully in the early-morning light. Kael was momentarily dazzled. He'd always wanted to play the flute, but...given his 'background history', he'd never had the chance to even HOLD one. Now here one was, begging to be held, to be played.

Oh, how he wanted to- but he had a job to do first.

"This better be worth it, Ray," he muttered, busy tying Selena to a chair with a length of rope he'd found. Once he was sure that she was absolutely secure, he pulled the shutters down across the windows of her home, hiding her from view. To ensure no-one would notice, he also turned off the lights. "I'll be back, baby," he whispered to Selena, who was stirring feebly.

He pawed through all of Selena's belongings, looking for what he needed most- a tape recorder.

He eventually found one, hidden in the depths of her wardrobe. Her fucking WARDROBE, for fuck's sake! Who the hell hides a tape recorder in their WARDROBE?

Alongside the tape recorder, he found several tapes, which were, thankfully, empty. That was good. That was really good. Luck was on his side, for once.

He walked back into the living room, his walk an uncaring, slow swagger, the tape recorder clutched in one hand, the machete in the other, and the empty tapes in his pocket. "Hey, babe," he cooed happily, sitting in the couch opposite Selena, who was now awake and horribly, horribly aware. He dropped the tape recorder, placed a tape in it while Selena screamed obscenities at him. He pretended not to notice, even though she was pissing him off.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" She demanded, angry. Kael smiled darkly at her.

"I need you to do something for me," he replied.

"What? What's this about?" She cried, struggling against her bonds. Kael brought his knife up, which was stained with Selena's blood-he'd caught her on the thigh.

"You know, maybe I'll tell you if you do what I say without a fuss."

"And what's that?"

He pretended to consider. "Play the flute for me, bitch."

She spat at him. "No! Never!"

Suddenly, Kael lost what little control he'd had. The machete arced up, and settled itself in the elbow. Blood began to drip from the wound. He wasn't pressing hard; but apparently hard enough to make her weep.

She screamed, and Kael answered her. Not in words, God no, but in motion. That motion was a slap across the face. Selena flinched; Kael could see the imprint of his hand tattooed across her cheek, bright red against her white flesh. He chuckled.

She continues to cry weakly, and Kael, enraged that he is getting nowhere, pushes the knife in, slightly deeper than before. "No...Please...I'll do anything..."

"Really?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. She nods, her face wet with tears. He smiled. "Then play the flute for me, or by God, I will tear your arm off from your body." He sneered at her unpleasantly. "You hear that? I'll fucking tear your arm off! Do you understand, Selena? I'LL TEAR YOUR FUCKING ARM OFF!"

"I UNDERSTAND!" She screamed, and perhaps it was good that she did scream, because Kael was on the verge of losing his temper, and no, that couldn't happen, no, it just couldn't. Selena's scream served as a slap in the face for Kael. He took in a deep breath.

"Good," was all he said. He untied her, just enough for her to be able to move her arms. He had a feeling she wanted to run, or try and take the machete from him, so he moved behind her after giving her the flute, (he had the tape recorder with him, along with the tapes), and he kept the knife pointed at the back of her neck. He pressed the 'record' button on the tape recorder.

"Play," he said dangerously.

Selena played, and she played shockingly well. Kael recorded all of her songs that she had composed, the anger evaporating as quickly as it had come. He was delighted- this beautiful music was just about to be his.

Once she is finished, Kael kisses her forehead lightly. "Thanks so much, babe," he whispers, before driving his knife into the back of her throat. Selena made an odd choking noise and jerked about in her chair, unable to control her actions. Kael stepped back and noted that he'd pierced her spinal cord, and that the tip of the knife poked out through the front of her throat. Selena made an odd choking noise, and apparently tried to vomit- however, the knife, being in the way, served as a dam against whatever she was trying to bring up. She continued to jerk about in her chair, her legs kicking out wildly, spasmodically, while choking on bits of her own throat, the knife, and bile. Her arms reached toward Kael, who backed away, regarding her with something close to amusement.

He believed she tried to say something, he believed this absolutely. But no words came out, just that strange choking noise.

And then, finally, she was dead. Her legs dropped to the floor, her arms fell to her sides, and she was dead, oh yes, she was very, very dead.

Kael picked up the tape recorder and listened to her beautiful music for a moment, before picking up the bloodstained flute, with the intention of cleaning it. He crept behind the dead woman and found the handle of his knife. It was hard to get a grip of, because most of it was wedged into her neck, but he managed to pull it out. Bits of white flesh clung to it, and a sick combination of bile and blood began to drip off of it. "Fuck," he muttered in disgust, wiping the knife on Selena's blouse, the flesh coming off more easily than he would have expected. He tucked the knife back into his pocket and rang Ray.

"Kazza, my man! How the fuck are you?" Ray sounded happy to hear from him. Kael spoke quickly and quietly-he suspected that someone may have heard Selena's screams.

"Ray, I need you to come and...Do your little number on Selena's house. I reckon someone might have heard her scream, and besides, when the fucking cops get here, I'm as good as dead. My fingerprints are all over her house, I mean, fuck, Ray! I'm fucked!"

"Don't say that, Kazza," Ray said soothingly. "I'll be over in five. Don't stress it, Kazza, we'll handle everything."

"I fucking hope so," Kael said viciously, though his expression didn't match his tone-he was smiling.

XxX

While Selena's house burned, Kael made his way into town, his (clean) flute clutched in one hand, and his other swinging by his side harmlessly.

This was the time when HIS fun, actual fun, began.

Sure, he got a kick out of slashing people's throats, that was true, but he REALLY wanted to play his flute-for the first time, ever.

He paused in front of a music store. Why not? Why the fuck not? Here was as good a place as any. Kael went inside, got permission to play, and began to set up outside. There was a display of CD's, packed tightly in a trolley, and that was where he hid the tape recorder. He swept his hat off his head and placed it on the ground, by his feet. This was for the money that he would surely get.

He had to be quick. He had to press the button and begin to 'play' as soon as the music started. Somehow, he managed it, and a crowd began to gather, as a series of beautiful notes began to make themselves heard. Kael hadn't the faintest idea how to play the flute, actually, but he moved his fingers up and down the instrument like he knew what he was doing.

The crowd didn't know any better, and were soon entrance by Kael's beautiful 'music.'

"That's beautiful," one woman said, almost lovingly, to Kael. He smiled at her over the mouthpiece. She wasn't much younger than him, a year, maybe two, and she was tall, and very, very pretty.

"Just magnificent," another person said, and Kael was beyond delight now-he was at the pinnacle of pleasure. He would owe Ray and the others for...hell, for the rest of his life!

That wouldn't be a problem, though, Kael thought, watching as the crowd began to dance, and the money dropped into his hat (he had bought the hat purely for that reason).

Of course, the crowd couldn't last forever. They had jobs, appointments, friends' houses to go to, though, Kael noted gleefully, none of them looked as though they WANTED to leave. Kael turned off the tape recorder by nudging it with his foot.

He turned to pick it up, when someone tapped him in the back. "Yes?" He asked, turning around and finding himself almost nose-to-nose with a woman in her early thirties, with short, spiky hair.

The woman steps back. "You play wonderfully," she said softly. Kael thanked her, told her it 'meant a hell of a lot', and scooped the collection of coins (with a few notes tucked away in there as well) into the pocket in his jacket. He crammed the hat onto his head. "What's your name?" She asked suddenly, after watching him do all of this with an odd expression on her face-almost hungry.

"Kael. Kael Simons," he answered, shaking her hand, though she hadn't offered.

The woman smiled, though it was the sort of smile that froze people's insides-which was exactly what happened to Kael at that moment. "It's nice to meet you, Kael."

She lunged forward, her eyes eager, and the whole world went dark for Kael Paul Simons.