Two Faced Killer

Chapter 1: No Trouble

A large, fairly muscular man paced back and forth across the old room. It was a reeking, musty old place, with a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, flickering dimly, its life about to end.

The man didn't care. This place wasn't his, anyway. The woman who owned this ancient shed had been in an...accident while she was out buying groceries. The man grinned at this thought.

He put a hand in his greasy hair, eyes the colour of stormy skies focused on the briefcase set down by the door. It was finally his, but he had been advised by his partner not to open it. It could be rigged, and opening it could result in a massive explosion.

His partner was still out, cleaning up the mess left when they had dealt with the owner of this shed. The man twiddled his thumbs, waiting for his cohort to return, as he was the one who knew how to disarm explosives.

Sighing, the man sat down on an old sofa that was in one corner. It cried out in squeaks as the man settled in. He pulled his fake identification out of his pants pocket.

John Humber. That was the name he was going by today. Signing, he lay down on the olive green cushions of the sofa and closed his eyes. He and his partner, who was going by the name of Eddie White, had gone through a shitload of trouble trying to snag the briefcase that now sat so stalwartly and unmoving at the front of the room.

The man chuckled. Obviously, it was unmoving; it was a freaking briefcase, after all and not some sort of -

"Hands where I can see them," John froze as a cold voice filled the room, hard and polished and frigid, like ice, like the cool sensation of the knife that was pressed against his neck.

John's eyes turned upwards, following the black-sleeved arm that held the knife at his throat with such subtle, deleterious efficiency. The look in the knife-wielding young man's azure and unmoving, unblinking eyes only added to John's fears. Here was a man who had ripped the word 'mercy' out of his dictionary.

John raised his hands slowly.

"Get up," the young man said. John nodded and got to his feet. The man's knife followed, seemingly hungry for John's flesh.

"Who are you?" John asked slowly. The man put a finger to his lips, a mouth that held no expression at all.

"It doesn't matter," the man answered, "Now come with me. I'm taking the briefcase that you worked so hard to get."

John felt his muscles freeze up. The man kept his knife against John's neck and he planted his other hand against John's back, pushing him along towards the briefcase.

"I can't let you take that," John whispered, looking at the man, who was slightly shorter than him, "I won't."

The young man smiled, much to John's surprise. "You're right," he said, pressing the knife harder against John's neck, "I don't even need to keep you alive."

With that the man slashed across John's neck in a single swift, controlled motion. He slammed John's body onto the ground and walked away from the growing pool of blood.

"I killed your friend, and now I've killed you," the man picked up the briefcase and opened the door, "And now I've got what I need. No trouble, right?"

He walked out of the old shed and across a grassy old yard, towards a car that stood about thirty feet away. Once he was in the car, he locked the door and drove away with a cell phone pressed against his ear.

"I have it," he spoke quickly and flatly, "Where do you want it?"

"Just bring it to the townhouse," A voice said on the other end, "We'll take it from there."

The man did as he was instructed. After hanging up, he drove the car out of the suburbs and into the living, breathing city just a few miles away.

Okay, because it gets confusing, I'll list the original characters (OCs) introduced in each chapter, starting here.

John Humber

Eddie White