Spiral

By: Aubrie1234

1 Year Ago:

It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to stay together forever, like the brothers they were, not be put on a death sentence by the person they were sent to investigate.

"C'mon, we've got to keep moving." Frank panted, pulling his exhausted brother along. They had been trying to earn the trust of a big game hunter who was suspected of poaching, but it had horribly backfired. Now they were stuck in the jungle, running for their lives. They've been running for nearly a day, almost nonstop.

"What is he, a big game hunter, or a man hunter?!" Joe gasped, struggling to keep up with his brother.

"With his regard for morals, probably both." They scrambled over a fallen log just in time, as there was a sharp crack as the log was struck by a bullet. That made them run faster, no matter how exhausted.

"I wish there was reception so we could call for help!"

"Save your breath so we can keep running!"

"Is it just me, or does this remind you of that time we had to save Biff from that camp?"

"Joe-"

"No, I'm serious! This is so similar to that time-"

"But this time, we're going to be trophies instead of dead boys, so run!" This time, Joe didn't argue. He couldn't have, as he tripped at that moment. Lucky for him, he barely missed getting shot in the head. Pulling his brother again, Frank continued to run. If they slowed down, they would be shot. If they tried to hide, everything would be shot at until they were dead. If they tried to rest, they would also be shot. The only fighting chance they had was to run.

The hunter after them, Mac Hollson, was keeping up with them so easily because he knew this jungle, and because he was riding a specially-made motorcycle. The only reason he hadn't killed them yet was that he was toying with them. However, it was going to have to end soon, as this game had taken much too long.

Frank glanced around, hoping there was someplace they could hide and rest, someplace Hollson didn't know of. Getting an idea, he glanced to the ground. It flew by under his feet, but he was able to make out an depression in the leaves up ahead. Glancing back, there was no sign of Hollson.

Time to take a chance. Tightening his grip on Joe, he ran towards the depression, and his guess was proven correct as they fell through the leaves. Both of them had enough sense not to shout as they fell. Finally coming to a stop, they took shallow breaths, trying to be as quiet as possible. There was no noise from above, but they could feel the vibrations as the cycle passed by.

"...I can't believe that worked." Frank grinned, glad that they were alive, at least for now.

"Frank?" Joe's voice was still quiet. Looking over at his brother, he quickly understood why. They hadn't fallen into just a hole, but also the home of a larger-than-life spider. And Joe was face-to-face with it. The red hourglass shape on its abdomen didn't help, either. It was as big as one of their hands, possibly more, and began crawling towards his brother. Slowly, so as to not spook the spider, he reached into his pocket and took out a penlight. It was a special one ATAC had created for the mission, but they had no chance to use it. He hoped it did its job before the spider had a chance to bite.

With a single click, a red light played from it, searing one of the spider's legs. It quickly scuttled away, but not far and began coming back. However, it gave them enough time to move. As Frank kept it at bay, Joe scrambled up the hole. Then, reaching down, he hooked his hands under Frank's armpits and yanked his brother up just as the spider leapt. It missed and they scrambled up a tree. Sitting on the branches, they looked down. The spider didn't go after them, only repair the top of the hole. Giving each other a glance, they gulped.

"Thank God for ATAC." Joe said at last.

"You said it." They sat there in silence for a while.

"How did this happen, anyway? I thought we almost got away with it!"

"Hollson must have been tipped off somehow, because I knew we were being very careful." Frank answered.

"The only one who knew anything about us was Whitney, and she was helping us!"

"Unless it was just a trick."

"But why? I thought she was an environmentalist, not a poacher."

"And ATAC said that her records were clean, so either she was very good at hiding this or this is her first time."

"If she has fooled us, then she's either very good at being a first-timer or she's really experienced." They both began to feel anger at being betrayed by a girl they thought they knew they could trust. She had also claimed to be an ATAC agent, but they checked it out to make sure. When it turned out she was right, they immediately told her everything they knew.

"...We were fools." Frank said grimly.

"If we survive this, I want to get back at her really really badly."

"You and me both, little brother." After a few more minutes of rest and contemplation, they climbed down. They had to keep moving, no matter how tired they were.

Something still felt terribly wrong, and they knew it. Since their encounter with the spider, they'd not seen Hollson at all. It was making them feel very uneasy.

"Wait, I think I see a town or village up ahead."

"This is too easy. Do you have your mini-telescope?" Joe nodded and played it over the place ahead. When he turned back to town, his face was grim.

"Hollson's there."

"I thought so. What's going on?"

"There are guards all over the place, and I saw Whitney talking excitedly with Hollson. There was also an entire cart full of ivory. Seems this is the next stage of the game."

"Then let's make our move. I've got an idea." They scrambled back into the brush of the jungle, disappearing easily. Having been 2 days in the jungle, nearing on 3, they were learning pretty quickly how to survive and thrive.

Hollson entered his room, confident that either the Hardys were dead or going to make a last-ditch attempt. They had nearly ruined his poaching business, and their employer couldn't mention the brothers or themselves without revealing everything. Everything Whitney had told him, at least. She was being a great traitor and had been the one to tell him what the Hardys were really doing.

He was thrilled to hunt down the only prey he hadn't be able to do before then, but it had to be ruined when they had lost him. However, being trapped in the jungle, they were more likely to die than survive, even with their skills. If their bodies were recovered, even their bones, he would still feel the exhilaration of finally doing what every criminal was ever wished to do when tangling with the brothers: making sure they don't come back.

Putting his rifle on his desk, he turned to his closet to get his pajamas. Turning back, he blinked. Hadn't he just put his rifle on the desk? But it wasn't there. Dropping the clothes, he began glancing around. His senses, finely tuned from hunting, should be telling him if someone was there, right?

"Looking for this?" Hollson whipped around to see Joe and Frank, Joe holding his missing rifle. However, besides their jungle-splattered, haggard looking appearances, something seemed wrong. There was a strange look in their eyes and a feel in the air that nearly made him shiver. Hollson was quite sure that this wasn't what the Hardys were supposed to be like at all, at any time or any place.

"Hello again." he gave a disarming grin, edging toward the door, "I'm sorry our game had to be interrupted. And it seems you've turned the tables on me!" He was close enough to the door now to reach behind him and touch a button. Before he could, Joe raised the rifle and shot at the button, dead center, obliterating it. Hollson always had a muzzle on the rifle, so it made no sound, and he always locked the door so no one could come in. destroying the button had made a bit of noise, though, so someone would come looking, right?

"We've had enough of your games." Frank said without emotion. He nodded, and Joe took aim again. This time there was a small thunk in the door, and Hollson fell without a sound.

"I'll get some knives for Whitney." Joe said, handing the rifle to his brother and rummaging around the room for the hunting knives Hollson had to have.

When she opened the door, she expected Hollson to have come calling for a late-night poach. Her eyes widened, however, when she saw the brothers standing there. Using that shock, she hugged them, pretending to be their ally.

"Boys, I've been looking every-" She was cut off when they pushed her away.

"We trusted you, you know." Joe spoke, unable to keep the growing anger out of his voice, "But you betrayed us to a hunter."

"So now the hunter becomes the hunted." The door closed on them, and screams began to echo in the night. By the time the first responders got there, Whitney Lanely was lying on the floor, dying, covered in her own blood and grievous wounds, but no one else was there.

It was days before they found Hollson's body, but already the Hardys had left, horrified. What had they done? How could they have let that happen? And yet, their sense of morals was being ate at by the Whispers. The Whispers appeared right after they had gotten their bearing and realized what they had done, always trying to make them go dark again.

"Kill someone. Kill someone."

"Who will betray you next?"

"Who can you trust, now that you trust no one except each other?"

"No one knows it was you, you don't have to worry."

"Didn't the feel of killing them enlighten you, make you feel good?"

"You don't have to worry about being blamed because who would believe the Hardy Boys are murderers?"

They never ended. They were relentless. And, slowly, the brothers felt themselves slipping away, becoming something more sinister, yet upholding the image of crimesolvers. Soon enough, they began to kill others on their missions with no one the wiser, usually those who got close to them. With no evidence pointing to anyone, ATAC couldn't get them to investigate and never even realized their best agents were their worse enemies.

Eventually, they began to take on certain traits for the madness. Frank read, but had no weapons; like his former self, he was smart and knew how to keep things pointing away from them, like having no evidence. Joe had loved knives before and soon became so infatuated with them he began to take them with him everywhere, even juggling them at times; he was also very clever, being able to get them in and out of places without being caught and knowing just where to strike on a victim. Soon enough, though, they began to attack closer to home, to people they were sure would betray them or had hurt them already.

Now:

"Do you see now? We're doing this both out of fun and of defense." Frank concluded, "And you're going to die because you've nearly betrayed us several times."

"Mostly on our missions, but now, where we're in our prime, doing what we love best." Joe smiled, barely showing his teeth, "Death. And Death is what is now going to end you so we can continue our killing spree."

"But you knew it was wrong!" Iola pleaded.

"We may have before, but the Whispers were right. We're not meant to be detectives, we're meant to be serial killers." Joe toyed with a knife in one hand while juggling the others in his other hand. He then threw the knife at Frank, who caught it without even looking back.

"And it's about time we did some killing. We'll leave someone to tease the police, though. Tease them with knowing what we had become just a little too late." Standing up from the couch, Joe walked over and flicked the light switch. Everything was plunged into darkness, heightening their fear. And then came the screams.

He didn't know until then how cruel, merciless, or evil the brothers could be. They left him alive, the person they knew the least, to hear their friends die in the dark. When he knew that he was the one they left alive, he cried. He cried and cried, even after the police came. When he told them what the brothers had said, he cried then as well. He cried at the funeral of his friends as the word was spread around the world about how far the Hardys had fallen. He never stopped crying, but he knew that he had to help stop the brothers in some way. Or, at least, help their shocked family.

No one in all of Bayport or even the world had suspected it. ATAC even broke its cover to warn everyone about their best ex-agents. Even if the Hardys were now their enemies, they were right in a way: how could an entire organization not notice what was happening right under its nose?

Not just Bayport was shocked, but the many friends the Hardys had accumulated over the years and the police forces. Even the big agencies, like the CIA and FBI were shocked. All of their numerous friends were kept under tight security so they also wouldn't be murdered, but it didn't help. Many of them were killed and the Hardys escaped. They weren't just the Bayport Butchers anymore. They were the Mass Murderers. They didn't even limit to their friends, now that their secret was out. They relentlessly killed anyone in any place in the world, but were never caught. It frightened everyone. For weeks it seemed they would never be captured, but then it happened in the most unexpected of places.

A month after the world knew about the Hardys, Jerry was going to see the graves of his friends. He had gone to see them every week since they were killed, and it was the only thing that kept him from being overwhelmed by grief. But as he finally caught sight of the graves, he stopped, shocked, angry, and so many other emotions at the same time. There were the brothers kneeling beside the graves, talking to them as if they were still alive.

"You guys may have been traitors, but we still had fun together. Now I sort of wish we hadn't killed you all so soon." Joe said, mostly looking at the shared headstone of Chet and Iola.

"But I still got that heartbreaker off your back, didn't I, Callie?" Frank smiled at the grave, as if Callie was right there. It was then they noticed Jerry, who hadn't moved. Standing, they met his gaze. Instead of the fanatical ones they had held before, both looked much older than they had at all, like they were tired with life.

"Nice to see you again, Jerry." Frank spoke, "Call the police if you want, we don't care."

"We've had a good spree and could go on for as long as we liked, but we're done." Joe continued, "All we want now is to rest. We don't care if we get locked in an insane asylum and forgotten, we just want to rest."

"Hey, if we get the death penalty, then we can see our friends again." Frank chuckled, "Though I bet we'll be thrown into the depths of H**l before we ever see them. We deserve it, after all we've done." Jerry couldn't believe his ears. The Mass Murderers, wishing to go away for good? It was too good to be true, and yet they still held their sincerity. It seemed that was the only thing not corrupted by their insanity. Never taking his eyes off of them, he began to dial.

The only reason they had been committed to an asylum was because no one had the heart to kill the world's once greatest detectives, even after all they had done. And, somehow, Joe had snuck in knives and Frank had his books. They even tore down the wall between their padded cells to be together, like the brothers they were. And no one wanted to go in there and fix that with Joe's knives around. So it continued like that, no disruption of anything. Eventually, as Joe predicted, they were forgotten, but not for years. And once they were forgotten, they would be ready to strike again...