The First Victim…
The First Victim…

It was all over the city, in every newspaper. On everyone's lips. The different papers all had different headlines; they were all something like this,

LOCAL BOY MURDERED! BODY NOT FOUND!

Another one read:

BOY MISSING, SEARCH GIVEN UP.

And another…

BOY MURDERED, FAMILY MOURNS.

On and on, regardless of the headline all the papers said the exact same thing. There was a local boy who had been missing for the past thee weeks. Police have given up the search and declared him dead. None of the papers mentioned his name, and none of them said what the boys family and friends had been going through the past three weeks. The boys name was a simple one, and around his part of town, very familiar. Motomiya Daisuke. He walked out the door one day to visit the rest of the gang, and never came back. The police told his family that they were giving up the search and they were declaring the boy dead. The reaction was unexpected, and very fast. His parents just sat there, starring at the wall. His sister, Motomiya Jun, locked herself in her room for three solid days. She didn't sleep or eat. The rest of the Digidestined and their families could do nothing to comfort the Motomiya's because they were in a state of great depression as well.

Finally it was over. The great depression of the families was lifted, but the grief still remained. Everyone thought that it was over…until Iora received a phone call. He was home alone at the time; no one would be home for another three hours. It was the perfect time, for revenge.

"Hello, this is Iora speaking." There was silence. Nothing could be heard. Iora could feel his heart beating faster and faster in his chest. Then there was a click, whoever was there had just hung up on the other line. His heart rate slowed, but he could not shake the abnormities of it away from his mind. He walked back to the family room, picked up his book, and started reading again. He sat for ten minutes, when he began to feel uneasy again. He looked down the hall of his apartment and could see the phone sitting on the table. He felt like it would ring again, he got up and went to go get it. When he had got the phone and then sat back down to his book he felt very childish. No, he felt like a fool. He was in fourth grade now; no reason to be scared of a wrong number. It rang again. He picked it up, but this time said nothing, this time he had no need too, this time someone else talked first.

"Hello, Iora." It began. Now he felt very uneasy and decided to look out the window that was right behind the chair he was sitting in.

"Hello," He answered back in a slow shaky voice. I know that voice, he thought to himself. The recognition was true, but he could not place the voice with a name.

"I have to kill you now, Iora. Don't hate me for it." Iora knew what was coming, but he was frozen with fear, starring out the window. About three levels above his in the apartment building across the street he saw a light go on in the window. He could see someone standing in front of the window; he knew now whose voice he had heard. Then he heard a shot, it was clear. He saw the glass in front shatter into millions of pieces, he felt the bullet wiz through his body with ease. He felt the life pouring out of him and onto the floor. Looking down he saw the wound, it was big, and a large chunk of his stomach was missing. The blood poured freely, his legs were soaked in a mixture of blood and urine. He hit the floor and everything went black.