Hush

Broadcast

It's dark outside, the exhausted boys are still sleeping peacefully. Soft snores are occasionally heard, probably from Harley. Take one look on them and a thought of them drinking alcohol wouldn't pass your mind.

As they sleep by, the once pitch black sky gradually turned into a cerulean color. When the sun started to rise up, rays of yellow, pink, and vermilion burst out.

The sky now looks fantastic. It looks like it's straight out of a professional painter's canvas. Some of the rays are blocked by the white, fluffy cloud.

A shame the boys didn't see it.

Just right after it happened, Matt just woke up. He rubbed his eyes and checked on his friend. 'He's still asleep. I'll just call room service and ask them to bring breakfast up here with some pills.' Matt reached for the room telephone and pressed some buttons.

* * *

There's a knock on the door. Matt, who was playing his phone, got up and retrieve the food. "Thank you." He said before closing the door.

He put the food on a table and opened the curtains. The sun rays hit Harley's closed eyes. Yet he didn't woke up at all, he only turned around. Matt grumbly took a glass and filled it with cold water. He then poured it over Harley's head.

"Matt!" Harley muttered in his morning voice. He shook his head, sending droplets everywhere. "Now the pillow's wet, idiot." He pointed at the pillows.

"Well, it's your fault for not waking up." Matt shrugged. "Tsk." Harley rolled his eyes. That cause a sharp throb in his head.

"Ow, dang it."

"Hm? What?"

"A fucking migraine."

"Heh, serves you well for drinking too many shots."

"You should've stopped me." Harley mumbled, crossing his arms. "ME?! How dare you, you ungrateful brat!" Matt flicked Harley's forehead.

"You're lucky I didn't left you in the streets. I should've done that." He continued. Harley could only rub his forehead.

"Stop sulking. Eat some breakfast so you won't be nauseous." Matt pulled his friend out of his bed. Harley tried to stand up, but then he fell. He didn't even make an effort to stop it, no. Harley's face met the floor swiftly, luckily it's carpeted.

That didn't stop him from having a nosebleed.

Now, both of them are enjoying breakfast. Everytime Matt stares at Harley, he'll giggle. "What is so goddamn funny?" Harley touched his face. "No. It's just, pfft-, it's just the way you stuffed a tissue in your nose looks ridiculous."

Harley sighed at the laughing mess and decided to watch the news. The headline looks quite interesting. It says:

'THE WEAVER STRIKES AGAIN'

'Huh. Never heard of it.' Harley raised an eyebrow. He elbowed his friend so he could watch the news without laughing sounds.

"Breaking news. Last night, a horrific murder has taken place at The Savoy Hotel. The police force believes that it was The Weaver's doing. The victim is a 30 years old man, who is last seen with his spouse.

He was chocked to death by strings. The man's whole body was wrapped by the specific strings. His spouse is still alive, yet she is traumatized. It seems like she was threatened to be killed. There is no witnesses so far. The investigation is still on going."

The television flickered to another channel. "I was watching that!" Harley whined. He tried to take back the remote, but Matt held it up high.

"Look, the murder took place in The Savoy Hotel!" Harley frowned. Matt huffed and changed back to the news.

There's pictures on the screen. And then a wooden sign with the words: The Wolf Spider. It's written with blood and it's not like the murderer is in a hurry.

Sure enough, the victim's body is hanged like a marionette. The strings are tied to a lamp post and another. Blood soaking the white threads.

Each thread would bundle each external organs of the man. And it isn't just normal string. It's like piercing through his skin, that explains why there's blood all over the body.

It kind of looks beautiful in a messed up manner.

"-We advice tourists and locals to avoid going around The Strand at night. The police force suspects it's the peak of time these murders happen. As per usual, this is Rebecca Lloyd with BBC News. Stay safe." And with that, Matt turned it off.

"Shit, man. We just wanna have a lil vacation. Then this damn murderer decided to ruin it." He paced the whole room. He then started muttering nonsense about theories.

Harley took his phone and searched for this murderer. It looks like he goes by a lot of names. The Arachnid Killer, The Webber, The Night Spider, and a lot more.

But the most known name is The Weaver. 'Freaky.' He thought as he tapped on one of the websites.

This criminal has been creeping around London for a few years. The way they know it's him is by his way of killing. Which is wrapping the victim around in his special strings. Plus, there are signs with spider names written on.

The 'accidents' usually partake at night. He's very cautious yet sly. Sometimes he would leave some kind of evidence on purpose.

And it would lead the detectives to the wrong path. Once, it ended up with one of the detectives being accused for murder.

There are some pictures of the recent cases. A burly gangster with bushy moustache got into his webs. He was tangled on strings too, like a hopeless prey. A sign right below him: The Tarantula. A bit odd if you ask Harley.

Another one is an adorable couple, which is now not. Both of them are jumbled in webs like marionettes. But there's a twist. The woman had a knife in her hand. She looked like she's stabbing her lover in the heart. The sign said: The Black Widow and Her Lover. Must be intentional.

For this picture, the victim is censored. But you can see some of the things. Based on what Harley sees, the victim's eyes are gone. One of them are still hanging, the other one fell on the floor. Its arms and legs are slashed and sewed on different parts. The smile on the face is sewed too. The murderer named it "Theridion grallator". Very creepy.

"Fucking hell, mate." Matt whispered. Harley, not knowing his friend is beside him, screeched loudly. "I almost had a heart attack." He grasped his chest.

"Sooooo, wanna go out tonight?" Matt cupped his face. "Didn't you hear the fucking news?!" Harley said in bewilderment.

"Tsk, loosen up a bit." Matt playfully punched his friend on the shoulder. "It's not like we're gonna be his victims anyway. Fun fact, the average person walks past at least 16 murderers in their lifetime." He announced. "That doesn't mean we won't be his victim, stupid." Harley sighed.

"So no clubbing?" Matt pouted, giving him the classic puppy eyes. Harley at first ignored him and play his phone. But he can feel the eyes looking through his soul. "Fine, an hour only." Harley held out a finger. "Yippee!" Matt jumped.

'Let's just hope we won't die.' Harley closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless slumber.