Killer From Purgatory || BBS

Chapter 5

Blood glistened on the bathroom counter, splatting across the mirror and causing red to drip down its glass surface. The body fell forward onto the counter before sliding onto the floor, completely dead. Glazed over blue eyes stare into the dark wooden door of the cabinet underneath the sink as blood pools around his neck from the slit that the bounty hunter had sliced into it.

Scott snapped a picture of the dead body, sending it to his client's cell phone via a text message, seconds later a large sum of money entered his bank account. He smiled, shaking his head as he flashed into dead space so that he wouldn't be seen. "Humans are so easy to figure out, almost all of them want at least one person dead." He says as he deletes the human's number, preferring not to keep any documentation of the exchange once he got the money. As long as he never forgot how to use a knife, Scott would never have to worry about money.

Another stolen car waits for him in the garage, the keys clutched in his hand with a smirk, the headlights reflecting off his necklace pendants as he unlocks the Porsche. He runs a hand through his hair as he climbs inside before he remembers to take off the plates, which he does easily as he shifts out of dead space. He shoves them into the backseat after opening the garage. The engine purrs as it rolls backwards down the driveway, roaring down the street as Scott drove aimlessly through the town. Getting on the highway was a priority, but he took his time finding it.

He fiddles with the radio for a few minutes as he cruises down the back roads, the car sadly not being a convertible like the last one he had stolen, currently burning a couple miles outside of town. His phone buzzes on the seat beside him.

"Yeah?" He speaks into the phone, his eyes lazing about the road, it occurs to him that he didn't check the caller ID. Music blasts through the speakers of the stolen car.

"Scott? I'm sorry about what I said. Please.....please come home."

Scott takes a look through his rear view mirror. "Of course, Smitty, I'll be right there."

He keeps a switchblade in his pocket.

----

"Nice car." Smitty comments, his arms crossed in front of the apartment complex's gate, wind tousled his dark brown hair as Scott stepped out of the car. His leather jacket was off, folded over his arm as he tucked the keys into its pocket, metal charms clanging against each other with a small 'ding'.

"Thanks, it's not mine." Scott chirps as he happily pulls his friend in for a hug. "Sorry for leaving you hanging there, bud." He apologizes as he pulls away, smiling at his friend as genuinely as he could manage. "But, I have to know, what brought on this change of heart?"

Smitty led him inside the complex, talking as he walked. "After you left, I realized how sorry I was for saying what I said and that it was a dick move, but besides all that, I really miss you. I forgot how great it was having you around after you left, and when you left earlier everything got a bit more lonely." Scott pulled a lollipop from his coat pocket, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth, making sure he had locked the car. "I also don't want you roaming the streets doing who knows what."

"You know what I would do, Smit, you just don't want me to. You know, morals or something like that." He licks at the candy without much thought as he enters the apartment behind his friend. "Don't worry, the dude I stole the Porsche from is dead, so technically I was well within my rights."

"Yeah, only after you committed murder in the first degree." Smitty shuffles into the kitchen and returns with two glass bottles of soda, they cost a bit more because they were imported from Mexico, but the aesthetic and flavor made it worth an extra dollar or two. He hands a bottle to Scott, who happily takes it and twists the bottle cap off easily, taking a sip of the cool carbonated liquid as it hits the back of his throat, stinging just a bit.

"Well, it's only first-degree murder if you killed one person, clearly I haven't killed only one person." Scott once again settles himself onto the couch, bringing his feet up and resting them on the coffee table in front of him, careful not to rip the magazines and letters that Smitty had placed on one side of it.

"In this case you did, right? Your only job was to kill the one dude, no one else?" Scott nods. "Thank god."

"More people could've died if his wife and kids hadn't been on vacation in Miami." Scott says before taking another sip of his drink as Smitty nearly chokes on his. "What? It's true."

He goes into a coughing fit before turning to Scott angrily. "Dude, the hell? He had a family? What kind of fucked up job do you have?" He pauses, thinking it over. "Let me rephrase that, why did you choose such a fucked up job? You couldn't have done something like sane?"

Placing the bottle on the coffee table, Scott stood up, placing his hands on his friend's shoulders to calm him. "Smit, I'm a demon now, you know I can't have a normal job."

"Craig works at an antique shop for fucks sake, Scott. What you're doing is very illegal and very dangerous, how do you even justify that, how do you manage that?" Smitty couldn't help but express his feelings about his friend's job, the whole idea of what he did seemed crazy to him, and he knew crazy.

"But, Craig isn't the one who is legally dead." Scott picks up his bottle and downs the rest in one gulp, smiling at Smitty once he had placed the empty bottle back down. The lollipop stick stuck out from the side of his mouth. He stretches out his arms as he realizes just how tired he is.

"Go to bed, Scott, you look like you need it." Smitty produces a small smile, gesturing to the hallway where his room lay untouched since the last time he has been there. Scott wishes him a goodnight and walks over to his room, turning on the light and closing the door.

His eyes fall onto the bed, and tears well up in his eyes as they land on the black hoodie that had been tossed onto his comforter. Smitty had left it for him surely, most likely telling Craig that he didn't know where it was. He had saved it for Scott. His hands grip the clothing item gently, hugging it close to him as he thinks of the person who had worn it.

"I'm gonna get you back, I promise."

-----

TWO YEARS EARLIER

Gray was the only color, the only word to describe where he was as he opened his eyes, voices whispered to him from the back of his mind. His arms instinctively wrap around his body as shivers run along his cold skin, he breathes, confused as he sees wisps of air in front of him. It's undeniably freezing.

He looks down at his chest as his last memories drift into his thoughts. Scott expects to see blood gushing from his wound but instead he sees nothing, feels nothing, the only thing telling him that he couldn't possibly be dead was the immense cold he felt, and even then he was unsure.

"....nly way....save.....back...." bits and pieces of sentences strung together in his head made his vision blur and focus like he was fading away almost. He felt like he was fading away almost as quickly as he had laid on his apartment floor, dying. The light had closed in on him, yet it was all dark at the same time, if it was even possible.

Where he was, it felt a lot like limbo, like he was trapped between worlds, the one he had known and one that was unfamiliar and new.

He's ripped from reality and thrown into a new one as he awakens in a gray room, softness spread out underneath his torso as he blinks up at a circle of people who stood around him. "What the fuck..?" He whispers, confusion crossing his face as he tries to sit up only to fall back down. There was an unexpected weight on his back, almost like a backpack, except lighter and airier. "The hell is going on?" Unexpected aggression is laced in his words.

"I'm sorry, Scott, this is the only way we could save you." As soon as the words make it to his ears, he is sitting up and his eyes widen as he realizes that there are wings spread out behind him. Pitch black wings that remind him of Evan and the ones he had shown him just a couple days ago. "The place you went to before here was Purgatory, but you are now in Hell."

"Where's Evan?" His eyes stay glued to the black feathers as he tests out how to use them carefully, flapping them gently and becoming mesmerized. All he could think about was the soft fade that his boyfriend had on his wings, he wondered what he would say if he were there. After a couple moments of silence, he turns to the demons who surrounded him. "What's wrong?"

"Scott....I'm afraid to say that Evan is dead."