After a cold shower, Lucien was now sitting in his wooden chair, typing something on his laptop, illuminating his dark room.
The screen displayed a collection of files. Photos, reports, autopsy results, and CCTV videos. Lucien leaned forward slightly as his eyes scanned the the files.
Victim One: Female, 34 and pretty. Reported missing for a week. Found six days later with her face disfigured.
Victim Two: Male, 41 and handsome. No connection to Victim One. Missing for a week and found six days later with the same condition, brutally disfigured face.
Victim Three: Male, 9 and adorable. Same condition on the two above.
Lucien's gaze lingered at the texts he was reading, the veins on his neck and head pulsing. No emotions can be seen on his face.
Each victim had been found with their face unrecognizable above the ground while their body was buried. The murderer deliberately made it that way like he was mocking the authorities, challenging them to find and stop him.
Lucien pressed the right arrow key, showing pictures of the faces, the disturbed soil, and the angles of the head. He noticed that this was not an expert, this was still a newbie. He was still practicing his way of killing. Perfecting it.
Lucien's finger pressed a key again, the screen showing a map of the locations where the police found the bodies. Red markers encircled the sites, their distances near each other.
Hunting ground, Lucien thought as he reached for a notebook beside his laptop. It was worn and thick, the pages filled with sentences and words. It was almost like a diary of a mad man, but it was not. It was precise deductions, smart observations, and suspicious individuals. Notebooks are harder to trace too, especially in this current digital era.
Lucien flipped to the latest entry of his diary, three names were written on the page. All men with prior records of assaulting, all living within the radius of the burial sites.
Lucien uncapped a pen near him and began to cross out names.
Eric, too inconsistent.
James, too loud and reckless.
Jack, Lucien paused, his eyes flickering back to the screen, cross-referencing the time and the CCTV videos where Jack can be seen walking near the hunting ground. Lucien's fingers moved and his eyes darted as he scanned the files about this man.
Found you.
-----
At 8 AM, Lucien left his apartment wearing casual clothes and a cap. The weather was hot but the cap was for his subtle anonymity.
The sun was now up at the sky, illuminating the world with its glorious rays. Birds were chirping all around, people were talking as they walk, and cars filled the road. The cacophony of noises filled the bustling street.
Lucien begun to walk on the sidewalk, passing people by. He walked among them, unremarkable, like another face in the crowd. He was going to investigate his suspect, living in a modest residential block on the edge of the mapped radius of the hunting ground.
----
Lucien stopped across the street from a small, aging house. It's paint faded, its lawn unkempt and full of weeds, and its windows are always covered with curtains always drawn. It was normal to be ignored by passerbys but if you look deeper into it, it was also suspicious enough to matter. Lucien found a spot to sit as he waited and watched the house while he scrolls on his phone.
Minutes passed. Then an hour. Countless people have now passed Lucien, lost in their daily routines. Cars honked as a delivery truck stopped in front of them, delivering a sofa. A large pitbull was barking somewhere in the distance towards the people as they pass by. Then the door opened and a man stepped out.
Jack. Mid-40's, average build and looks, and nothing remarkable or memorable. Like he was blending amongst the crowd. Exactly like what Lucien expected. The man locked the door behind him, glancing briefly side by side of the street before heading towards his car that was parked beside the road.
Lucien observed everything. The way the man stood, the way he moves, the way his eyes lingered for brief moments on faces of pretty women and handsome guys.
The man then drove off, going somewhere no one knows. Lucien did not follow him. There was no need to rush things, like they said, patience is a virtue. After confirming where he lives, Lucien went home to continue observing him for the past few days, preparing his hunt of a predator.
-----
A week later, no important thing happened to Lucien. He continued working on weekdays and observing his target at night. It was a routine and he was skilled at it. By now, Lucien had everything he needed. He knew Jack's established routines, his schedule can now be predicted, and his work time. Jack worked irregular hours and always returned home late. He has no family and no friends, no one to ask who he really is. There was nothing left to investigate. Lucien know that Jack was the killer and he will kill again.
-----
The glowing moon hung up the sky devoid of clouds, illuminating the concrete jungle beneath it.
Back in the apartment, Lucien was preparing. Putting on a coat that was dark and has a hood, masking his appearance and build, a black fitted gloves to not leave any fingerprints on his hunt, and a hammer that was the same as the weapon that was used by the Skullcrusher, also known as Jack.
Lucien checked everything again, then again. Precision is needed and carelessness will be the death of him.
The shadows inside his room stretch across the walls, swallowing the empty space. Lucien stood in the middle of it all, waiting for the right timing to strike. He was ready to hunt and another monster will disappear from the city.
-----
The city was still bustling even at night, never sleeping. The clear night sky was now filled with dark overlooming clouds, threatening to pour beneath the concrete jungle. Streetlights flickered every now and then, their dim glow barely pushing back the darkness that pooled in alleyways and clung to the edges of the buildings. Darkness was always suffocating.
Lucien stood across the street unmoving, waiting for his prey to start its own hunt for food. He observed the dilapidated house, its curtains remain drawn and no light can be seen inside. To anyone else, they will either think that the homeowner is now sleeping or the house was abandoned and empty. But Lucien knew better. As a predator, he knows when someone is also preparing to hunt.
No one else is passing the street Lucien in, and almost no cars was driving around it. It was not exactly a secluded place but it was far enough from the bustling city district.
Lucien crossed the street with unhurried quiet steps, arriving at the front of Jack's house. The gate creaked lightly as he slowly pushed it while listening for any movements inside the house.
No reaction.
Lucien then closed the gate like the way it was before to avoid suspicion, and then he continued to move toward the house. He twisted the rusted door knob attempting to open the door.
It's locked, Lucien expected.
Lucien circled around to the side of the house, crouching to mask his presence. After arriving at the back door, he stood checking the door knob. It was unlocked.
Lucien knew that Jack was not careless. It was his confidence. The kind of confidence that Jake know no one was looking.
Lucien slowly pulled the handle when he suddenly paused and listened. A faint sound can be heard from the inside. A slow dragging noise of a heavy thing. Then a loud thud, enough to be not heard by the neighbors. Then silence occupied the surroundings once again.
Lucien's expression did not change but his body subtly tensed, ready to pounce at anything that will threaten him. He fully opened the door when a rotting smelled it him hard. It was not overwhelming to spread outside to alert anyone passing by.
Lucien stepped inside and closed the door behind him without a sound. With no lights being turned on, the darkness swallowed Lucien.
The interior of the house was completely unlit, devoid of any presence of light. There were cobwebs and dust all over the place, like no one was living here. The air was thick with the scent of decay, a new odor was now present with it. Blood.
Lucien moved forward slowly, each step deliberate. The wooden floor of the house creaked with each step. Lucien then suddenly froze, a wet scraping sound that was closer than before. Followed by an uneven, excited breathing. Lucien's eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, scanning the room once more. Furnitures in disarray. Wallpapers coming off the wall. Then he noticed marks on the wall.
Scratches? No, marks, Lucien thought as he observed three slashes on a wall in front of him.
Lucien stepped closer to the wall, touching the markings when his instincts warned him that someone dangerous was behind him. Lucien turned his body instantaneously, a man, Jack, stood in the doorway to the next room, watching him. For a moment, neither moved. They just stared at each other, observing what the other one would do. But Jack suddenly spoke.
"You came, my beautiful muse," Jack said with excitement on his voice.