Masked Slayer: Night Warrior

Plot A: Slay 2

Plot A: Slay 2

I had killed a man.

The mere thought of it left me in shudders.

I knew that I was trained for this. I knew that this was going to happen, sooner or later. There was a purpose I was brought.

But still I couldn't manage to comprehend; how could I let it happen so easily? Moreover, how could I let Boss win?

I may be incorrect, but four years under his service were enough to know that under his fake ethical façade, was a hidden mask of doom.
A mask of maliciousness.

The entire night went as I tossed and turned on the bed. My vision kept flashing with things I wanted to forget at the moment, but to no avail.

It was morning already. I could tell by the gleeful chirping of the birds, and more by the bright light that was seeping in through the closed curtains.

But I felt anything but exhilarated at the moment.

I needed coffee.

With all the force I could muster, I got out of bed. My knees felt like jello as I stood. I was still in yesterday's attire, since I couldn't even try to move last night.

Without finding the need to fix up ny appearance, -even though I probably looked like a walking tornado in human form-, I manage to grumpily walk out of my room space.

On entering the main living space, I found Deegan standing next to the glass panel that lead to the balcony. By the look on his face, it was evident that he was in deep thought.

Not bothering to ask where the others were, or what he was thinking like I normally would, I make my way into the kitchen.
Yes, kitchen.

There was a kitchen. It wasn't that huge as the rest of the suite was, but it was definitely luxuriously built.

I would've payed a little more attention to the glass cabinets, or the polished marble of the counter if it weren't for my depressing mood.

It took me a few minutes to brew the coffee, and once it was made, I practically downed the entire mug in a few gulps.

Placing, or rather slamming the mug against the counter, I walk back to the main living, and sit on one of the plush sofa, glaring at the table infront of me.

Why? Because it seemed appropriate at the moment.

I didn't seem to notice Deegan come up to me. It was only when I saw fingers snap infront of me that I knew he was there.

Not really bothering to glance at him, I continue my glare at the table.

"You're up." Was the only thing he spoke.

"Hm." I continued glaring.

"Why haven't you changed? You look like a disaster."

For the first time, I look away from the table and at him. "Thanks," I mutter, sarcasm evident in my voice.

"Come on Rav, I'm not even kidding. There's dried blood all over you." He says, and if I'm not mistaken, I hear a little worry in his voice.

My eyebrows drew together and I actually look down at my appearance. He was right, I did have dried blood all over me.

All over me.

My white T-shirt, my arms, even my jeans. All were covered in stains from last night of..'slaying'. Or rather butchering was the term I'd prefer.

For some reason, the person I killed was again infront of me. My eyes were fixed on my arms again. This was his blood. The man I killed.

I started to shake. And I couldn't think all of a sudden.