PARKER | Dark H.S. AU

xlvii. serves you right

Copyright © zylgnagnaba 2014

The street is covered with partial darkness as lamppost are set at least twenty meters apart from one another, though meek gleam of light is shed from different windows. An old starapple tree stands tall just along the pavement, casting dark shadows along the exterior of the black SUV parked across Bushwyn building.

Its windows are tinted with black, making it unable for passersby to determine who's situated inside the expensive vehicle though the scene outside is as clear as what the dull light could provide for the passengers inside. Mister Parker's eyes are of hawk's,  snapping towards any slight movement in his surroundings, vigilant for his own sake.

It has been a few minutes earlier that they've been parked outside of Harry Styles'apartment, heeding for his arrival to or departure from the building.

With a huff under his breath,  Mister Parker grabs his phone from inside his pocket,  scowling at the screen as he impatiently dials a number.

"Sir?" the voice from the other end croaks quietly a matter of seven seconds later,  the edge on his voice evident.

"I want two of you to climb up his apartment. Check and call me immediately." Parker orders gruffly,  not giving the other man a chance to reply or voice his protest -- not that he would try to defy his master -- as he quickly returns the cold gadget back to its rightful place.

He waits until two men climb off from a car in front of them and walks across the street. A distressed sigh leaves his parted lips, propping his elbow next to the window while his two fingers rub at the creases on his forehead...watching his two gangmen until they disappear into the entrance of the building.

He smiles wickedly as an evil thought sends a tingling sensation from inside him. He knows exactly what he'd do to this Harry Styles once he gets ahold of him.

For heaven's sake,  he doesn't remember the man...much less, his facial features. He doesn't know what he did so vile that this person wants him killed. He had so many enemies in the past and still has a lot until now...so it doesn't surprise him that one or two of them would hire an assassin to make sure he dies. What Nina told him earlier -- a particular man with anterograde amnesia is plotting his death -- is reason enough to have this person executed. He had murdered many innocent people in the past. It wouldn't hurt him if he does the same with this pity excuse of a man who hardly recalls things every fifteen minutes.

If someone who doesn't personally know him sees the idiotic grin on his face right now, they would think Mister Parker is overwhelmed with thoughts of a woman she fancies a lot...but no. The idiotic grin swirling upon his aging face is not brought about by infatuation. Instead, it's the playful thought of him towering over a tortured body kneeling in front of him to spare his life. Harry Styles would be punished so much he would curse the day he was born and eventually ask for an easy way out...for his quick death. Mister Parker will take his valuable time, watching Styles suffer in the misery he brought to himself.

Minutes pass by, and he still continues to entertain himself with delirious thoughts of blood, pain, scraped skin, wailing, bruises, gunshots and satisfying death.

-----

Harry's long strides are quiet as he navigates the expanse of a dark back porch; the only source of light coming from the moon which half of its entirety is hidden behind the dark heavy clouds on the not-so-starry sky. He tiptoes across the area to walk just next to the concrete wall to lessen the possibility of him getting caught before he even succeed in his plans.

Looking over his shoulder, Harry makes his way to the back door. Crouching down so that he is eye-level with the knob, he retrieves something from his back pocket, a small hair pin. His eyes squint as the pin is stabbed inside the key hole. With only a little fiddling with the lock here and there, a delectable click resonates to his ear. He slowly shoves the door open with just the slightest crack, enough for his lanky frame to fit as he squeeze through it. He shuts the door behind him. With the same stealthy manner, his quiet steps lead him even further inside the manor. His feet stops just as he cluelessly reaches the lounge.