The man swung the shovel into the window; the glass flew across the room and scattered. The two men, in synchronization, turned to the man. The stranger lunged at PJ, clearly the stronger of the two, and with the blade of the shovel he sliced into his neck. The man could feel bones snap in his victim's neck, PJ fell to the floor the open wound gushed crimson blood. He had died instantly, but to make sure the job was done right, he thrust the blade into the man's chest, right where his heart was, this wound was so deep that PJ's ribs poked through the skin, tissue and muscle protruded through.
Mort stood in place, petrified, he gave a little gasp, the man turned to him.
The man put the pole of the shovel on Mort's neck and pushed him against the wall, cutting off his air supply.
"I- who- I thought you were-" sputtered Mort.
" Dead?" the man finished Mort's sentence. "Thought you killed me huh? Guess not, cause here I am in the living flesh. But the real reason I'm here is this
You stole my life, and I'm here to get it back. I know who you really are, William Murdere, you freakin' parasite. That's what matters. And you of all people should know that I don't react to intimidation." The man said rather calmly.
"How- did?" Mort replied, at a loss of breath.
" I think that I should know everything about my own life. The fact is that I am Mort Rainey. You simply tried to kill me off, which I might remind you didn't work; I just had a headache for a few days, in order to abduct my life. I could have taken you life that day in the lake, but I decided to wait for the ideal moment." Mort paused for a moment to crack his jaw before continuing, " Now, I don't know why and I don't know how you did this, it will remain a mystery to me, but your death- your death shall not." sneered Mort Rainey.
Mort removed the shovel from William's throat; he then adjusted his hat, running his fingers across the brim with an evil, pleased smile on his face, before taking the life that was his. And all that Mort left behind in that old Victorian house, was one word scratched into the wall in that office:
SHOOTER