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The Fastest Kill
That one, she was the fastest chosen and the most offensive. He'd seen her pushing a stroller with a young child strapped inside. It was a harsh winter's day. The chill was unforgiving and the boy had no coat. There she walked behind him, phone attached to her ear talking to who knows who paying no attention as the stroller was almost hit by a car as she pushed it into the street. Unapologetically she had pulled the stroller back onto the sidewalk casting an angry glare on the driver as they honked and cursed at her. She should be more mindful of the child. These were the thoughts Kenshin shared with the driver no doubt. He decided then and there that the child would be better off without her.
His meetings were finished for the day. Lately he hadn't the need nor desire to kill. At least not until he came across this woman. If there was a button to push, she pushed it with the full force of all her weight behind it. Subtly he had shifted into stalk mode and began following her. He had to wait until he could get her alone and leave the child somewhere safe. He wouldn't kill a child. Everyone had a line and that was his.
He followed her for some time observing over time her lack of care. Never once did she look at the boy until at last she came to a residence. Presumably her parents as an elderly lady with similar features and build greeted her at the door. She left the child in the lady's care and went inside briefly. All he could do was wait and wait he did. He would not proceed as usual to follow her and observe her habits. Oh no, he was far too itchy for that.
When she emerged, she was all dolled up for going out or perhaps she was a prostitute. He wouldn't be surprised and in fact would welcome it. It was easy to lure a prostitute anywhere he should like to take her. She strutted down the street the opposite way from which she'd come and he began following her at a leisurely gait.
Her demeanor had made her predictable as he found whr waiting on a corner not so secretly waiting for men to pass by. Of course it wasn't long before her client of the evening had arrived. Her last client. It was too easy, like taking candy from a baby. Once he approached all he had to do was offer his arm which she took. He was certain she was salivating. He knew the type, the leech, she could smell money on him. She could tell he had plenty.
The next step was walking her to his car with the simple reasoning that, though there were hotels very near and alleyways that would do quite nicely she pointed out, he was hungry and would like a bite first. With this she couldn't argue, deny him and she might lose a sale. It was too easy and he was already imagining what he would do to her when they were in the absolute privacy of his warehouse.
A smirk graced his lips she'd mistake as confidence as he unlocked the doors and even opened hers for her. A gentleman always. She even thanked him but of course he was kind. After all she was his special guest. He closed her in sealing her fate and walked to the other side. Climbing into the driver's seat he drove explaining that the place he had in mind was kind of far but worth the drive. Again she couldn't argue, instead getting comfortable in her seat and began babbling about some drivel. Kenshin pretended to listen but silently he was planning his next move.
It wasn't until too late that she finally took in her surroundings, a more secluded area on the outskirts of Tokyo. A sound of shock passed her lips or perhaps dismay, confusion. Where they were was unfamiliar to her. She shot him a questioning look which he ignored as he pulled into the parking lot of his building. It was foreboding, abandoned in appearance. He pulled up to the door and parked at last looking at her and registered that look, he'd seen it countless times, pure fear. That feeling would pass as she would think she could use her wiles to bargain for her freedom.
He ordered her out of the car but she refused. It was no big matter to him if she wanted to make it difficult. He climbed out and walked to the gate closing it like it was the most ordinary thing in the world to do and as though he had plenty of time which he did. It was she who was running out of time. As he walked back he could see her silhouette as she stubbornly sat waiting as if sitting there would allow her to avoid her fate altogether. This was not the case, time stops for no one, least of all her.
Walking to her door she rushed to lock it but he was faster to pull the door opened to be greeted by her angry face. Of course she was angry allowing herself to be tricked by him a man. Weren't they supposed to be pliable, easy to manipulate. It wasn't a new revelation, women like that thought like that, he was to be used at her discretion but she was wrong. He reached for her even as she backed away attempting to make herself a smaller target in the large SUV but again he was too fast grabbing her arm and dragged her from the vehicle. A quick and move had the door slamming shut with a loud audible click as the mechanism engaged.
She struggled but in vain, her small frame no match for his much larger one. All charm had left his manner as he dragged her without a care as to whether or not he hurt her nor did he waste a single breath speaking to her. Through a doorway doorway down a hall she alternated between flinging insults and pleading. She wasn't yet desperate. When she'd hit the doorframe and elicited a howl maybe it drove the point home what was about to happen.
Realization tended to happen in stages. As he stopped in the doorway and flung her to the floor of his killing room she took in her surroundings. He ignored her for a moment needing the moment to inspect his tools. He was meticulous, always he left every instrument completely clean from the last time. Sterile as a doctor's kit as he well knew but he always had to check them.
It was always at this moment, should he choose not to restrain them, that they attempted escape. It wouldn't matter, they were far from anywhere she could seek aid and he'd locked the gate besides. He would find her the chase affording him one more form of torture. Predictably and having some fight left in her she stood stumbling just a bit before she took off running out and to the left down the hallway. The unfamiliarity of her surroundings would slow her progress and the emptiness would make her attempted escape loud.
A soft chuckle left him as he glanced after her leaving his instruments to follow her. His approach was slow and as soon as he exited he could hear her footfalls, cacophonous as it bounced off the walls and floors. He could hear her calling for help as she aimlessly ran away from him. Rounding a corner he saw her run up against a locked gate at the far end of the hallway. She didn't cry softly or gracefully. Instead it was an ugly cry loud, hideous and as he walked closer and closer she only cried louder.
Within the last few steps she turned her hands gripping onto the gate behind her, one hand clutching above her head the other at her hip. It was another attempt to prolong her life just like back in the car. If she could stand there she would live. Pausing he looked at the crying mess in front of him. Ugly black streaks stained her cheeks from her mascara. There was anger, fear, as he didn't say a word just yet.
"Mister, look… I'll do anything if you just let me live, I have a kid. He needs his mother… please, I'm all he has." A vaguely hopeful expression graced her features and he could tell she thought what she'd said would touch the coldest of hearts but Kenshin was no normal man and her death was something he couldn't stop. In his mind he needed to kill her more than her son needed her.
Rather than replying he reached out a hand to her and she began crying more profusely. The hopeful expression melted from her face and she shook her head lowering to her to her knees as often happened, making herself a smaller target but effortlessly he bent towards her grabbing her and dragging her to her feet then back down one hall around the corner and down the next hall.
There was still struggling from her. It would surprise him if there wasn't. "M-mister… there has to be something you want…" She uttered in a voice almost registering her defeat. Acceptance wasn't far after. He knew it well.
Another turn brought them back to his killing room. Instead of throwing her to the floor he dragged her to the pole in the center stopping just long enough to grab a rope. Letting go of her arm he pushed her down and squatted in front of her. He took her hands in one hand and tied her wrists together in front of her.
He could just make out the words passing from her lips. "He'll never know what happened to me…" she chanted between two phrases, this one and, "I don't want to die, I'm not ready…" It was always in these last hours, last minutes if the subject was to show any sign of remorse for being what she was that she would express it. He was used to this and remained unmoved.
Having tied her wrists he stood and pulled her up and hooked her hands above her head then stepped back. Tilting his head he looked at her. She wasn't herself from the moment he took her. He didn't see her anymore. The face he saw was of someone long gone from his life.
"What is it?" She asked as she looked at him through eyes still filled with tears. "What did I ever do to you? Whatever it is I'm sorry…" She cried softly. These were the words he'd longed for, that person, to apologize for the torment bestowed upon him in his youth. He stared at her in confusion. "I'm sorry for everything…" she cried out louder.
His eyes fluttered he looked at her the vision of his mother melding with the other woman faltered like a ghost. It almost fit but it wasn't her. "Shut up…" he muttered as he tore his eyes away from her.
"I'm sorry! Please!" She cried out.
He turned taking a stumbling step to the table and grabbed a knife as she continued crying out loudly entreating his mercy. He grabbed his sword and turned back to her extending his arm. "I said shut up…" he repeated the sword tip firmly pressed against her belly as he continued walking towards her.
"I'm sorry…" she uttered one last time as the blade was thrust into her with such force it travelled straight through hitting the pole.
"You're not her, you're not anything anymore." His hand remained on the hilt, fingers firmly gripping it until his knuckles were a stark white. His forehead rested on her shoulder and he could her her raspy breath as she struggled to hold on. Frowning he twisted the blade and his ears were met with a labored groan from her.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered one last time. It wasn't for him but for the little boy she left behind. She should have been there for him, been more attentive, a true mother while she still had a chance but like so many before her she wasted her time which was always short.
He pulled the blade back then up making the incision longer. There was a final sound… the last gasp… a gurgle and she was no more. He stood there with her a moment, two, ten. He didn't count how long before he came back to himself. The ritual wasn't complete he had to finish the cleanup the burial but there was plenty of time until dawn.
Pulling the sword from her stomach he carried it to the table wiping the blood from it then placing it carefully on the worn wooden surface. Drained he moved to the wall sitting facing her, gazing at her empty shell until he dozed off engulfed in the metallic scent of her blood.
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