The Games We Play | ✓

2. GAME ON, WRITTEN IN BLOOD

02.
[GAME ON, WRITTEN IN BLOOD]

—

THE BODY SLUMPED to the ground, jolting the alley into an eerie silence. The wind blew, gently beating against the dead body as if checking on him. The moon sighed and the stars blinked. Just another murderous secret they would have to keep.

Whistling softly, the killer pocketed her rewards and turned to walk away.

"I do hope you're going to do something about the body," a new voice sounded suddenly, its owner lurking against the corner.

She hadn't expected the intrusion. Her eyes slanted towards the figure who must've had a death wish in announcing his presence.

"Why don't you come a little closer and help me out?" she invited dangerously, twirling the knife in her hands.

He laughed and slowly began advancing, much to her surprise. "Threats as pretty as the deliverer, I see."

"You're either stupid or suicidal," she remarked. "What are you doing? Why are you here?" she demanded as she gripped her already bloodied knife, preparing for the unexpected kill.

"I couldn't miss out on the fun, could I?"

He examined her. She had sharp brown eyes, the kind that seemed to promise only trouble. Her lips twisted up into a pretty smile as her brown curls blew in the wind. The shadows danced dangerously against her skin, but under the moonlight, she looked almost innocent.

"I couldn't help but overhear your delightful conversation," he continued, glancing at Kenny's body. "You sure knew a lot about him."

Something told her this man was far more than an innocent bystander. She eyed him, debating whether or not to just kill him then and there. Her eyes narrowed as she replied cautiously, "I like to get to know them first."

"Ah," he nodded in understanding. "Like playing with your food." He stepped even closer, his face coming to view under the flickering streetlights.

"Wait a minute, I know you," she said after a moment, leaning back and pointing the knife at him. "You're that guy on TV all the time. The superstar."

The man bowed, "Reed Monaro, at your service." He looked up at her with dancing eyes and a crooked smile.

Unfazed, she said, "Well Reed, tell me what you want before I kill you too."

"I have a proposition for you," he started.

"I don't want your money," she said impatiently.

"No, you want something far more valuable. Something that gives you an inexplicable rush of excitement and thrill. Something that everyone has, but is illegal to take," his lips curled in promising destruction. "You want blood."

She observed the melting madness hidden behind his dark eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I want the same thing, and I think the two of us could spill a lot more together. Murder is an art," he said, "and you're a very talented artist."

A strong wind blew, almost as if nature was angry at this exchange.

"You're telling me superstar Reed Monaro is a psychopathic serial killer," she scoffed, amusement and disbelief edging in her tone.

"I have my hobbies," Reed shrugged.

"My God, I fucking hate Hollywood," she mumbled.

"On the contrary, I love it," he flashed a Cheshire cat smile. "Hollywood is a crime scene in itself, begging to be contaminated. It's filled with desperate dreamers are stupid socialites. Easy to manipulate, easy to kill, easy to hide." He watched her through the corner of his eyes as he paced slowly a few feet away from her. "You know, people go missing from concerts all the time and the performer is never suspected."

"What game are you playing at?" Her patience was running slim.

"The same one you're playing, and you're playing it well." He stepped closer, the sharp features of his face all the more visible. "I want to be partners," he proposed. "Partners in crime, as they say. After all, what's the point of the kill if there's no one to share it with?"

She gazed into his alluring blue eyes and wondered. Now this, this was interesting. She could kill a hundred Kenny's and never get a feeling this exciting. She had been playing this game of cat and mouse for a long time now, but to play the game in front of a camera...to play it in plain sight with a two-faced star...she'd be a fool to pass this opportunity up.

It was time to spice the game up a little.

"Alright Reed, you make a compelling pitch," she grinned, a deadly sight. "Call me Charlotte."