Zero could hear it.
The faint sound of the footfall of bare, naked feet carrying a rather exhausted man travelled across the parking compound.
The air was still as if holding its breath in, fearing what would happen next.
Zero’s eyes gleamed in the darkness of the cold January night. As he stood on the top of the billboard sign, several meters above the ground, the entire area was visible to his special vision. Squinting his amber-hued eyes, he could zoom into where ever he wanted, and as his head turned to the sound of the footsteps, he closed in.
Over a distance of at least a hundred meters, Zero spotted him. The man, clad in a torn trench coat, had several scars running down the side of his body. A face that had once been handsome, was now obscured by the slashes of raked claws. The once excited blue eyes held nothing but terror, as the man stumbled around on the main road.
There was not a soul in sight, and thick fog covered the ground, enshrouding the vicinity of what was going to be a bit of a mess, once Zero was done with the man.
Zero knew this man by nothing other than Subject 291, although there was the nickname that he had given to the man. ‘Roadkill’, as he liked to call him, was a fugitive from the law, a big-shot in the organ trafficking industry. Zero had found him hiding in an underground bunker, from where the events had turned out to be rather interesting.
From destroying an entire group of organ traffickers to chasing down Roadkill in a borrowed police motorbike across the country, it had been a fun ordeal. However, as the ever-approaching deadline of his task approached, his mercy diminished, and his bloodlust boiled.
That night would be Roadkill’s last. Zero was certain of it.
Every drop of blood that spilt out from the disoriented man’s body invited Zero closer, closer to finish the man off, closer to ending his task.
He sighed. “I need to grab a cheeseburger after this.” Bracing himself for impact, he jumped off the billboard sign, landing on the cold, wet asphalt, before starting to walk slowly, enjoying the anticipation of when he could get to kill his victim.
Visibility was low, and Zero used it to his advantage, as he shifted through the thick fog, slowly nearing Roadkill.
After a couple of silent minutes, he stood tall, towering above the broken body of his victim. Roadkill looked up, his eyes widening even further as terror filled the irises, as he slowly backed away. Zero saw the sickeningly twisted ankle, bent at an angle that wasn’t normally possible.
“Broke your foot, eh?” Zero grinned, as the man gulped, and as if out of thin air, brought out a sharp, energy knife, the crimson-hued blade menacingly illuminating the shadowy fog in a gush of blood red.
“Ooo, a knife,” Zero replied in a bored tone, “That’s not very nice, now, is it…is it, though?” He grabbed the man by the collar of the trench coat. His breath smelled rotten, like the spilt guts of an animal that had been run over. Zero was right in calling him Roadkill.
“Phe-ew!” Zero waved his hands in front of his nose, “Didn’t realise I entered the gutters. I can’t imagine…I can’t even imagine how you would smell after I ripped out each and every organ from your corpse. Seems fair, doesn’t it?”
The man waved his knife around wildly. “Get away! Get back! I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” Zero shot back, grabbing the man’s arm, “You’ll kill me? Hurt me?” He closed in towards Roadkill’s face, crouching down as the calm amber met the shocking blue. “Look into my eyes. Stare into them, take in every small, minuscule detail…Now, tell me, does it look like I give a fuck?”
All of a sudden, a look of madness passed through Roadkill’s eyes. He lashed out, swinging his knife until the tip of the blade slashed across Zero’s arm, and a small amount of blood dripped out, the burning hot turning to freezing cold in the midnight air.
Zero looked calmly at the stream of red that flowed down his arm. “Ouch,” He said quietly, before letting his lips curve into a malicious smile.
“Let the shit-show begin, then,” He stood up, gazing intently into Roadkill’s eyes and set a foot on the downed man’s chest.
Zero raised his arm up. From where the blade had cut across his arm, the blood seemed to flow at twice the normal speed. He felt the familiar sense of weightlessness, same as ever before his irises turned from amber to an evil rosemary.
From within the wound in his arm, Zero’s weapon of choice emerged: His own blood. Glinting like a madman, euphoria washed over him as the crimson liquid streamed out, conforming into a massive chain of wicked-sharp blades made out hardened blood.
Zero laughed, laughed like a madman enjoying the screams that the helpless victim beneath him let out, ripping through the silent night before he willed the Bloodchain to sink itself into the man’s body, and he watched as the blades of death ripped apart Roadkill’s body, piece by piece, tissue by tissue, slashing out the heart, lungs, kidneys, eyes and shredding the esophagus until nothing remained.
Zero stood above the corpse, as the Bloodchain reeled itself back into his arm. It was a messy carcass, as if it had been the meal of a hungry pack of vultures. Not that he complained. In his eyes, it was a piece of art, perhaps more beautiful than what a mortal artist could ever paint. A gory scene like this made his day, and a murder to top it all off would ensure a good night’s rest.
“He still smells like a run over animal.”
Looking around, he searched for something he could carry the organs in, until he found a plastic bag in near perfect condition, strewn amongst other pieces of garbage littered on the roadside.
He propped it open, checking to see if there were any holes in the bag, and then gathered up the organs inside his bags before taking a look around.
Nothing, nobody in sight.
“Now, where do I get a cheeseburger?”