War's Edge

Two Sides of the Same Coin

"M-Mons—!"

The words were cut off as the figure uselessly tried to take in a deep breath of needed air. With each failed attempt at breathing, warm blood spurred his attacker on. Said attacker was currently straddling him, pinning his lower body down.

Alfred quirked his head like an innocent puppy, malicious intent in his sky blue eyes. His unfaltering grin, perfect white teeth shining, was quite offsetting to the other man lying helpless under him, bullet in his lung and knife dangerously close to his throat.

"What was that? I couldn't quite catch that," Alfred giggled.

The man squeezed his eyes shut, calming his breathing in an attempt to slow the amount of blood staining his T-shirt. All he had to do was catch this madman off-guard, and then he could—

"Fuck!"

Alfred tsked, murmuring, "ah, ah, ah! You wouldn't want any poor children to hear?"

Alfred's grin spread further, his eyes betraying some horrendous idea that pleased him.

"I know! Two birds with one stone, huh?" he giddily chimed, mostly to himself, digging his knife into his victim's trachea. He wiggled the edge of the knife around the exposed flesh just to see the forced tears slipping down his victim's cheeks, then he pushed the entire knife into it, effectively silencing the man. While Alfred's victim twitched and jerked, struggling—and failing—to breathe, Alfred dug his finger around until he pulled out a small chip inside a plastic capsule of sorts.

"Impressive. I see you're dedicated," Alfred was, of course, mentioning the fact that the man had swallowed the chip like a pill to prevent Alfred from getting it, "but I am, too. 'World isn't fair, you know? Gotta make it on top of the food chain, and—oh, are you still up?"

Alfred harshly pressed two fingers to the man's neck, finding the faintest pulse after a moment. He couldn't tell if the man could still hear him.

"Figures..." he sighed.

He wiped his bloodied hands across the man's pants until they were cleaner than before. He stood up, stretching, still feeling the adrenaline from the chase surging through every vein of his very being.

"Well, Mr. Coles," Alfred regarded the dying man, "guess you were right! I am a monster, but I'm still standing."

He cleaned the smallest layer of grime on his glasses, pulling at his suspenders briefly to check for any blood stains on his crisp white dress shirt. After looking around, he noted that he was fairly clean save for the gum stuck to the bottom of his left shoe, the dirtied fabric covering his knees, and the dirt-and-blood mixture under his fingernails. He hummed to himself, pulling his flip phone out and pressing it to his ear with his shoulder as he occupied himself with picking out the dried blood from underneath his fingernails.

"Report, Mr. Jones?" his boss requested.

"Done, and done, sir! You want the chip back, or...?"

The reply was almost instantaneous and a rather firm, "dispose of it."

Alfred crushed the chip between his thumb and forefinger, letting the remains fall to the ground so the tip of his shoe could press into it.

"Alright, now what's next?" Alfred eagerly questioned. He loved the game of chase he played, including his own rule, which was to eliminate his targets without getting a single drop of blood on his unwrinkled dress shirt. So far, he had done well to keep his clothes clean and pristine for the most part. He'd hate to see dark red stain the formal shirt that practically glowed from cleanliness.