This story is rated MA for mostly adult content and violence!

Chapter 1

"Well that was a close one." Scarlet muttered as she hid in the shadows on a roof top, watching the police arrive at the office building across the street.

"You just had to stop for the Pop-Tarts." Jason huffed from behind, giving her a scolding look. Scarlett looked back at him while taking a bit of the strawberry Pop-Tart.

"Well he wasn't going to need them anymore." She shrugged and Jason rolled his eyes and moved to walk away. Scarlett followed him as the two gracefully jumped from roof top to roof top, easily staying out of sight of the people below.

"Honestly Scarlett," Jason scolded as he removed his hood to reveal his short brown hair. He looked back at her, his brown eyes locking with her bright blue eyes. "I get that you are a highly skilled assassin, even before we found you. But sometimes you just cut it too close. We're supposed to stay hidden. Kill our targets and get out. It doesn't matter if our targets are corrupt people, the police are not going to thank you for a job well done."

"I know that." She rolled her eyes, "but sometimes you've got to make it a little fun, or this job just gets boring." Jason shook his head before jumping down into an alleyway and she followed.

"Look I get that this stuff gets boring for you," he sighed as they walked down the alley towards the busy streets, the night life of the city starting to pick up. "I get that you're far too skill to be doing this, but you were the one that came to us, remember? You didn't just want to be an assassin, you wanted to do something good. Help people."

"I know." She muttered and the two pulled up their hoods as they walked out into the crowded streets of New Orleans. They walked down Burbon Street and Scarlett observed the nightlife going on around her.

"Hey beautiful!" a very drunk guy wrapped his arm around her shoulders and leaned on her. He was probably in his early twenties, close to her age. She could smell the liquor on his breath and wrinkled her nose.

"Get lost." She muttered while grabbing his arm, spinning around and letting go, making him stumble to the ground.

"Don't you push my man like that!" Scarlett sighed at the high-pitched voice behind her. She easily dodged a punch from a girl in a short dress, wearing three-inch heels with badly dyed blonde hair.

"He touched me." Scarlett rolled her eyes.

"You little bitch!" the drunk woman shouted, and Scarlett dodged another punch. Twirling out of the way with her hands behind her back, her hood hiding her face from onlookers. After dancing around the drunk girl a few times, a crowd was starting to gather. The drunk tripped and fell to the ground with a cry as Scarlett watched her. As people moved to check on the woman, Jason grabbed Scarlett's arm and pulled her into the crowd. They dodged around some people and quickly disappeared into the night as police sirens got closer.

"We shouldn't cause a scene after just killing our target," Jason scolded as they moved down an empty alleyway.

"She started it!" Scarlett defended herself and he gave her a scolding look. Scarlett let out a long breath and they walked in silence for a while.

"Did you have anything you wanted to do in New Orleans?" Jason asked after a minute and she looked up at his back.

"Well I was thinking about taking on my journalist alias." She replied, "I'm sure there some interesting true crime story that happened here."

"Probably." Jason muttered and they stopped before reaching the busy streets.

"I'm heading back home, don't stay out here too long." He said, "I'll call you when a new assignment come up."

"I'll probably head back to my place in France when I'm done." She said.

"Not going back to Rome?" he asked as they walked out onto the busy streets.

"Not yet," she said, pulling her hood up over her face a little more, "I haven't been back to my place in France in a while. I've got to make an appearance, or they might give my apartment away."

"Alright," he nodded, "I'll keep in touch and Scarlett." She stopped and looked back at him.

"Stay out of trouble." He waved at her, and she gave him the middle finger before walking off.

"Ugh, only 9pm." Scarlett muttered as she walked out onto the street and removed her hood. She walked over to a small family-owned French restaurant to get some food. She took a seat in a back cornered table and looked over the menu.

"Can I get you anything?" an older man walked up to her and she smiled up at him.

"Some Onion soup please." She said and he wrote it down.

"A good choice!" he sounded happy, "I'll have it right out for you." She waited about ten minutes, scrolling through her phone to pass the time. The old man brought out the soup an set it down with some bread.

"We are started to close up for the night dear," he said with a warm smile, "but you take all the time you need."

"Thank you." She replied, "I won't stay long. I have to get back to my hotel."

"It's not trouble," he laughed, "where are you from?"

"Rome," she lied, "but I'm currently living in France." The old man's eyes glowed in happiness.

"I hope my soup tastes as good as it does over there."

"It does," she said truthfully and he about beamed in happiness.

"Thank you dear you are too kind." He laughed, "so what brings you down to New Orleans? The music, the dancing? Our wonderful night life?" Scarlett smiled as she patted her lips with a napkin.

"Actually," she said, "I'm a true crime writer. I've been on the hunt for a good story to write about. I was hoping New Orleans could deliver something. I like to write about the scariest cases in each city around the world."

"Hm," the old man thought for a moment and took at seat in the chair across from her. "Now that's a new one for me. Most come for the parties."

"It's a strange living, I admit." She smiled while pulling her sleeve down when her hidden blade bracelet started to show.

"Well," the man said, "I have an old fried out in the bayou. His dad was a detective back in the thirties. He's got a good unsolved case from his father's time. I can give him a call, I'm sure he'd be thrilled to have company. Hasn't had much visitors since his wife passed away and with my old age it's hard to get out in the bayou often."

"I'd love to talk to him," Scarlett smiled, "if he'd welcome me." The old man smiled and got up.

"Let me give him a call," he said, "I'm sure old Roger is still awake working on his fishing lines." He walked away and Scarlett pulled out some cash and set it on the table. The old man came back out and handed her a map with a marked spot.

"Roger is thrilled to tell his father's stories." He laughed, "his old hut is off on the water of the Dutch Bayou, where the Blind Riven flow into." He pointed to a spot on the map, "he'll be waiting for you in the morning. The fastest way is to take a boat out there, many people also take a kayak too."

"Thank you." Scarlett smiled and took the map.

"Just tell him Joe sent ya," he said as he walked her to the door, "and remind him he owes me a good fish to grill up." Scarlett let out a laugh before nodding and walked out to the street and towards her hotel.

It was peaceful out int the Bayou as Scarlett rowed her kayak down the Blind River. She could hear the sounds of the boat tours going on and the distant sound of cars, even with all that it was still peaceful. Her eyes would spot alligators floating along the river and she watched the many other creatures scurry around the swam lands. She could see why so many enjoyed living here. She could also imagine how many murders have probably occurred in this area. The bayou was truly a great place to cover up a crime. Her eyes landed on a small run-down old home. An old man was sitting on the porch smoking an old pipe. He stood up and waved to her when he spotted her on the river.

"Must be Roger." She muttered and turned her kayak toward the hut. The old man walked down to the edge of the river and helped her pull her kayak in; he moved very well for a man in his eighties.

"You must be Scarlett!" He smiled brightly and she nodded.

"It's nice to meet you, Roger." She shook his hand, and he nodded.

"Come in!" he led her up to the house, "I had a feeling it would take you the better part of the morning to make your way down the river when Joe said you stopped by his place and asked where you could get a kayak. I made some Jambalya, you must be starved by now!" Scarlett smiled as she slipped her shoes off before stepping into the house.

"Thank you," she smiled and sat down on the couch as he scurred into the kitchen.

"Did you enjoy your trip down?" he asked as he came out, carrying a tray with two bowls and two glasses of water. He set everything on the coffee table and took a seat in an old wooden rocking chair.

"I did," she smiled, "it's very peaceful out here. I can see why you live here."

"Yes, it is," he smiled, "hot as Hell and the bugs are a pain. But it's home." Scarlett took a bit of the shrimp Jambalaya after she was sure it wasn't drugged or anything. Her training did help her build up an immunity to most drugs and poisons, but it would still be a pain to deal with.

"So old Joe says you write about true crime." Roger said after eating most of his bowl.

"That's right," she nodded, "I've written about many cold cases and murders. I know it sounds strange, but my most popular pieces are the ones on serial killers. I guess the public just finds them fascinating. They liked them so much, that I even spoke to many experts and wrote a piece on the psychology of serial killers." The good part of living your alias life was that it made lying about your fake profession so much easier.

"Well then I think I have just the case for you." He said as he stood up and walked over to a bookshelf. He pulled out an old, worn-down scrapbook and handed it to her. She flipped through it to find many old newspapers articles cut out and stuck to the pages. The paper was aged, but she could still make out the headlines and articles.

"When my old man was a detective back in the thirties," Roger said, "New Orleans had it's own serial killer. Scared people a lot. Back in those days, they didn't have all the fancy technology or internet. Naw people only knew about the killings from the newspapers or radio." Scarlett accepted a cup of tea he handed her and he sat back down in his rocking chair.

"Back then they bayou was far scarier than it is today." Roger continued, "today we know about the animals that live out here, but back in those days, the bayou was considered cursed land. Locals believed it to be nothing more than an unholy place where Voodoo worshipers lived and conducted evil rituals. But my old man said that most of the townsfolk didn't pay it no mind until people started disappearing. The first case was the one my father remembered the most. The wife of a local farmer came down to the station, saying her husband had gone missin'. Well the police went out searching the bayou, only to find the body of the farmer. The gators had ripped him apart, but there was enough of his body left for my dad to see the man had been brutally stabbed multiple times." Scarlett looked down at the scrapbook, reading through writings of Roger's fathers on each victim.

"At first the police said it was a random attack and tried to pin it on another farmer that had land disputes with the dead man," Roger said after taking a sip of his tea, "but before it could go anywhere another person went missing. A teenage girl, thought to have run away from home until they found her body in the bayou. Killed in the same way the farmer was. She wasn't assaulted, so the motive of her killing baffled police. Back in those days they didn't really know what a serial killer was, there was no psychological profiling like there is today. Well, after the third death the police started to panic. My father said the mayor told them to keep the killings quiet. Mayor was afraid that if word got out there would be panic and locals would attack the voodoo worshippers."

"I can understand that," Scarlett nodded, "it's easier to blame people who practice certain religions when things become scary."

"Indeed," Roger nodded, "Well the police were able to keep the killings quiet, until the 6th victim appeared. When they discovered the body, they proceeded to hide it and try to solve the killings without news getting out. But at the time, there was this very popular radio host. Father said the city loved his show. He played jazz into the late evening and told many stories during the day, capturing his audience with his charisma and showmanship behind the speakers. Well, he caught wind of the killings and announced it on his broadcast one day." Roger shook his head, "it put the city on edge. Father said there was a line of reporters outside the station and a crowd of terrified citizens demanding answers. The mayor had no choice but to address the issue." Scarlett skimmed over a newspaper article written about that day.

"Father and the other detectives brought that radio host to the station to find out how he knew about the murders," Roger continued, "I remember father said the man was young and handsome. He was well known around town and often frequented a local bar and danced with many of the woman performers there. He said the radio host was very corporative and ended up taking over the interrogation, spinning wild stories about the killer and monsters in the bayou. He told the police he figured out what was going on when locals at the bar were talking about people that had gone missing. Well, my father and the other detectives believed him and let him go. They asked him to stop reporting it, but he just told them he would never miss the opportunity to tell his listeners about what was happening in the city. Well after that, the radio host made sure to talk about the killings and every time a new body was found, the host was on the radio talking about it. Father said at one point, he felt like the host was just taunting the police. But his colleagues disagreed with him, saying the man was just reporting the news like the papers were. It sure got more people to listen to his broadcasts."

"So I'm guessing they never found the killer?" Scarlett said as she closed the book and Roger shook his head.

"No, the killings just stopped one day. But my father noted that at the same time the killings stopped, so did the radio host's broadcast. Around that time, a hunter had run into the police station one night in a panic. Said his hunting dog had chased after an animal, but when he shot at it thinking it was a deer, he realized it was a person. When the police arrived at the area the hunter led them too, they only found one body of a bartender that had gone missing the day before. There were signs that a second body had been there, but the police think the person fell into the river and got swept away."

"It does seem odd that the killings stopped the same time the radio broadcasts did." Scarlett said as she set the book on the table.

"Yes,"

"But I suppose we'll never know the truth." Roger shrugged, "if you want to look for yourself to write your story. The house of the radio host is still out in the bayou along with the hut he broadcasted from. It's a few miles down, can I see your map?" Scarlett handed him her map and he marked a spot along the Blind River.

"Here right past Devil's Elbow." Roger said, "the house is just a few yards away from the water. But if you go, be careful. Plenty of wildlife out there."

"Well my job takes me on many adventures," Scarlett smiled, "I'm very good at taking care of myself." Roger laughed,

"I can tell." He nodded as he walked her out the door.

"Thank you for taking the time to talk to me," Scarlett shook his hand, "and for the lunch, it was delicious."

"You're welcome dear," he said, "please feel free to visit anytime." Scarlett nodded before getting in her kayak and letting him push her out into the river. She waved at him again before paddling upriver, following the map to his marker.

"Well this is creepy." She muttered as she looked up at a very old run-down house made of wood. It looked like it was starting to sink into the swam. A small hut was a few yards away from the house with a rusted radio tower. Scarlett turned around and took a selfie in front of the house, sending it to Jason, knowing he would be annoyed at her recklessness.

'What the Hell Scarlett?!' his text response to her photo came through a few minutes later when she found a spot with more service.

'Journalist Scarlett is just exploring the lands' she replied with a smile emoji. He responded back with a straight face emoji, and she laughed before putting her phone away and gracefully hopping from one small plot of land to another to reach the house.

"Cozy." She muttered when she got into the house. It still had many of its old 30s style decorations and furniture. The floorboards creaked loudly under her light footings as she moved around the house. Nature had taken its course on the house, not leaving much to find. She walked out the back and went to the hut. The door was held together by an old, rusted lock. She stepped back spun around and broke the lock with her heel. The hut was even creepier than the house. There was a lot of old radio broadcast equipment and an old antique radio sitting on a shelf nearby. She looked around the area but couldn't find any evidence that a killer lived in this place, let alone a serial killer. Although it has been decades, so if there was something, nature probably buried it.

"Well I guess I can still write about the killings," Scarlett muttered as she readjusted her hidden blade on her arm. Once it was strapped back on, she pulled the dagger Jason gave her several years ago from the strap on her waist, hidden under her shirt on her back. The dagger was light and balanced perfectly in her hand. It was made for close combat and was light enough to flip around in her hand easily. The blade was engraved with two Latin phrases. She used the blade to pry open a drawer only to find it empty.

"Welp it was worth a try." She sighed before slipping the blade back into it's sheath and walking out. She stretched her arms above her head, looking up at the sky as the sun started to set.

"Time to head out." She said to the sky. She was a few feet away from the hut when the sudden sound of an old static radio started playing. Scarlett twirled around on her heel, her hand going to the hilt of her dagger as she stared at the empty hut. Jazz music was barely audible through the crackling static of an old radio.

"What the hell?" Scarlett muttered and walked back to the hut. She pulled out the dagger and held it in front of her with that arm across the front of her chest, prepared for an attack as she looking inside the room. The old antique radio had a flickering light behind the speakers as it crackled and played static jazz.

"Well that's not normal." Scarlett said as she stepped into the hut, putting her dagger back and reached out towards the radio. Just as her finger touched it, a bright green glow surrounded the room, and she felt the floor disappear from under her. For the first time in a very long time, Scarlett felt panicked as she reached out and tried to grab something to stop her fall. She failed and the last thing she saw was the old radio glowing green before she was surrounded in darkness.

So I have 10 Chapter written and it's been a long time since I've uploaded to fanfiction. Their doc manager is giving me so many problems, so so sorry I can't upload everything I have at once!

Also if you follow my other stories, it's been a hot minute. I've been writing but haven't uploaded any of my stuff recently.

Anyways! if anyone knows the solution to doc manager being a pain, please let me know! it keep saying there an error uploading the file when i'm copying and pasting :)