People were sent hurtling to the ground by an explosion that sent a tsunami of sound tearing through the narrow streets of that area. People that got up ran through the streets in utter panic screaming for their lives. Some ran into the sanctity of the nightclub while others tried to hide in alleyways. A second and third explosion soon followed rocking those already on the ground. Tentacles of fire snaked out trapping those that hadn't been able to get up fast enough behind a rapidly growing wall of death. Those that weren't dead already soon would be as a further two explosions ripped through the air. People caught up in ravenous flames ran in a panic, an action which only fanned the hellish flames drenching them, some people were unlucky enough to get caught by them.
Nothing was immune from this heathenish attack from above. Those that chanced to look above them saw that this was no attack from the hands of God; up there high above them stood someone upon a rooftop. Even from such a distance they could see the white toothy grin, the shape of a bottle glowing in the moonlight and a match lit, waiting to be touched to a cloth. For many this was a sign that their lives would soon end, one or two drowned out of the panic by this awful sight lowered themselves to their knees in prayer as the very bottle they had been looking at was dropped. With the sound of broken glass came their agonised screams.
Even before Detectives Knight and Schanke pushed their way through hordes of panicked people into the night they knew that something was going very wrong. In the air all around them hung the stinging scent of kerosene mixed with smoke. It almost choked them as the pushed through the metal doors now blackened through exposure to flames. Instead of meeting all encompassing darkness as their feet touched the street their eyes were met with flames that lit up everything that was around them. Their ears were assaulted with the sounds of screams from those that were dying and other trapped in the grip of an inescapable fear. Chaos ran riot all around them. In desperation they left the safety of the building to attempt to assist those that needed their help. Out of the hundred or so people caught up in this horrid fate they knew that only rendering their efforts fruitless but they had to try, something had to be done.
The spider had left its web. Throwing down the last of his Molotov cocktails to keep everyone busy he clambered down from the roof. Running down the fire escape he turned left down an alleyway which connected to another. Cautious in his eagerness he made sure that he wasn't noticed as he swept down an alleyway that terminated just one hundred metres from his target. It was one of only few alleyways still left that weren't barricaded by a wall of flame. There, concealed in shadows he stood and waited. Moving in for his target now would be foolish, what he needed was a diversion.
Over the roar of the numerous fires caused by his attack and the screams of both men and women he could hear the wailing of sirens. Somewhere in the distance ambulances and fire engines were coming, it was certain that they would be joined by police but that didn't worry him. Sticking his head out of the alleyway he could see a variety of flashing lights before the vehicles tore past him. With their arrival came his chance. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his favourite toy, his scalpel, he knew that there would be a chance that he would need to use it this night.
Something was going on, something bad. As he'd walked through the eerily quiet streets he'd heard muffled bangs like distant thunder, to his ears it had sounded like nothing more. Then, just as he'd reassured himself it was nothing a whole army of fire engines, police cars and ambulances had torn past him with their sirens blaring. In desperate curiosity he began running in the direction they had gone. He'd been in enough places to know that if emergency vehicles travelled in numbers like that something big was going down and that they'd need as many hands as they could get. In his mind he tried to picture what was going on but nothing he had thought of came anywhere near what affronted his eyes when he reached the scene.
All around him people were running, screaming, dying. His eyes darted about in rapid movements as his heart beat like a hand against a tightly drawn drum. For one devastating moment he thought he'd seen someone moving through the darkness calmly, immune to the panic that gripped everyone. Turning his eyes upon them again he realised it was no illusion, for what seemed like hours his mind tried to cogitate whether any of this was real. As he continues to watch the person walking calmly his brain told him that all of this was really happening, that it was real, dangerously real. Shutting off the rest of the world he followed the person, there was something terribly familiar about them.
She could feel them, all of them. She heard their cries as death gripped them in its throes. Their pain was hers, no matter how she tried she could neither block it out nor could she control it. Locked in the bathroom she lay under waves of intense agony where no one could help her. Blood began to trickle from her nose and ears as her body began to buckle under the intense pressure put upon it. She wanted to scream but whenever she opened her mouth nothing but her breath came out. She was drowning in a sea of pain, of torture, of death. Her proximity to the danger outside was limited making every second worse. Each minute it grew closer as more and more people were pulled into the club as it became a make-shift hospital for those that wouldn't make the ambulance journey to salvation.
In a storm of sensation where she could only feel pain her body tried to compensate for what it sensed was happening to it. Already it might have died a dozen deaths but still it fought for freedom. It tried to wrap itself in a veil of unconsciousness but the mind knew that unconsciousness would mean death. It would be a respite without end, an eternal sleep without pain. As time went on the offer became more and more tempting but still she refused. To accept the invitation to die would be weakness. It would be an empty, lonely death that would mean nothing. Her remains would rest forever in shame at succumbing to the end of a struggle that she had fought long and hard to control.
No one saw him as he entered the building. Everyone was too busy tending to the sick and wounded that lay on the floor all around him. He was surrounded by death, death that he had wrought on innocent people. As he walked through the room he tried not to smile, it would be a smile of proportions that would identify him as the cause of all this pain and suffering. His mother had taught him restraint, as a boy he'd not known its importance but now he knew that it was paramount. Looking around him he couldn't see Robyn among those that had been injured, he guessed that she was in the back of the club. Somewhere where she was safe from him, guarded by two out of the three people he had observed entering and leaving the club. From what he could see in the darkness two of her three potential guards were helping tend the sick, he knew that the blond detective and his partner were outside. It was obvious that they were looking for him but he knew he was safe; they were looking in the wrong place after all.
Still he walked across the floor, still no one noticed him. Hollow, dead eyes would look at him once in a while but they couldn't register his presence nor could they send any alarm. As if coming to the end of a long journey he reached the door that led to the back of the club, looking behind him briefly he opened the door and walked through. It seemed that his caution paid off, he noticed that someone had been following him, someone that could cause him a great deal of trouble if they chose to interfere. He knew that before he carried out his task that this person had to be dealt with.
Quickly he walked down the corridor until he found a convenient recess belonging to a door that had been built deeper into the wall than any of the others. It was here that he hid, waiting. A smile spread across his lips as he heard the door re-open and footsteps sound in the corridor towards him. Pushing himself back further against the door he waited until the right moment…and struck. His pursuer fell face down on the ground. He'd not killed him that would come later. For now he contented himself with leaving him unconscious. Lifting his foot he turned his latest victim over, he remembered him as being Robyn's fiancé. He promised himself that if the man meddled in his affairs again he would be Robyn's fiancé no longer.
Smiling again he walked away. Heading back down the corridor he opened every single door, the fifth door he opened led him to the very person he had been looking for.
Writhing on the floor she didn't hear the bathroom door open nor did she hear that voice, that cold, mocking voice speak to her in its harsh tones. Over her pain she barely felt the scrape of his skin against hers until his hands clasped her head tightly as if trying to pop it like a balloon. It was then that she opened her eyes, for only a matter of moments her eyes met a pair of stormy blue eyes that she never hoped to see again before everything went black.
Scooping his quarry up into his arms he left the bathroom. Instead of going out the way he had come in, which would be an action beyond foolish, he walked to the far end of the corridor. A fire exit stood shut but not for long, kicking it open he took one last look down the corridor before slipping out into the night.
Things had worked very well indeed.