Devil's Wrath

Part 2

The vigilante moved as fast as he could, grappling up the sides of building's and taking leaps that would be flat-out suicidal for many. He was climbing up a brick wall when his migraines started kicking. "No, not now, not now!" He thought. He sense's went into overload just like before, but this was... different. He still noticed every crack and chip in each individual brick, on every building around him, but this time he could hear so much more. He heard a dish crash to the ground as if he was right in his ear, even though it was on the opposite side of Metropolis. His sense of touch was amplified as well, The smooth metal of a fire escape felt like a serrated knife cutting against his hand. All of was too much all at once, his concentration wane as he started making a nosedive for the pavement. He barely reacted in time and clasped onto a lamppost before taking several breaths to steady himself. He grabbed his grapple hook and shot out a line, reeling himself back to the rooftop's as he redoubled his efforts. He started getting close to the origin of the scream when he started to smell copper. Not only that, but because of his sudden evolution of his heightened senses he could also taste it in the air. And there was much... too much. He was too late. He cursed himself as sneaked in through a smashed window, the shards of glass being on the inside, telling him this was the point of entry.

He was in the bathroom and from there he heard the screeching blare of white noise from a TV. He slowly crept through the doorway and made sure to be alert of anything, and since his ability kicked in, it'll be much easier to do so. The copper smell and taste started to get stronger and stronger as he came to the kitchen. He looked down and covered his mouth with disgust. The victim was completely eviscerated, their guts was strung across the countertop and the large intestine was pinned to the wall with a knife. He slipped on a disposable plastic glove and pulled the knife out. It seemed to a throwing knife, velveteen wrapping around the handle and the black blade was double-sided. the end of the blade though was what stood out. Instead of ending in a usual point, it split off like a forked tongue. He carefully deposited the blade in the back of his utility belt and crouched down to the victim. He grunted, "Caucasian. mid-50s." He traced a scar over the left eye and opened the eyelid, being greeted by a cloudy lens. He noticed a tattoo on his left arm. "A Marine Corps' Eagle, Globe, and Anchor. "Ex-Military." (Y/N) caught glimpse of something on victims neck, causing him to lift their head up and twist it, a tattoo of a stylized sun dead center of his neck.

He checked the victims pockets, turning up a wallet and smartphone. He looks through the wallet until he came across a picture. The victim in question and two girls smiling like they had no worries in the world as he had an arm around each. The left one had sand-blonde hair that was cut short, and the other had the same blonde hair, albeit a few shades darker. The left had hazel eyes and the other had piercing blue eyes instead. He pulled out a drivers license, naming the victim "Richard Douglas". He put them back and combed the room over, seeing if there was any struggle. There wasn't, the killer got the jump on them. Which would mean... (Y/N) checked the underside of his arm, distinct stab's made against jugular veins and carotid artery, followed by brachial artery and basilic veins. At first glance with an untrained eye it would seem the wounds were professional. But that couldn't be farther from the truth, the wounds looked hasty. "The scream... when he screamed, they panicked. Why?" As he was mulling this over, something caught his eye. A sliver of light from the fridge door that was opened ever-so slightly, and there was a dark liquid puddling on the ground. He crouched and dabbed a finger in it. He put it to his nose and sniffed it, picking up no smell or poison from it. he dabbed it to his tongue and got an overload in taste.

Processed sugars, artificial flavors, a hints of... "Wait..." He got another hit of it and his eyes widen, "This--" The banging of the door ripped him from his revelry. He was so distracted that he didn't hear the swat team stomping up the stairs. In the span of three seconds, he was out the window and grappled away. And not a moment too soon, as he heard the door get busted down and the shuffle of heavy boots filled his ears. He raced away from the scene and as he leapt from rooftops, the taste of the soda kept jarring itself in his head. It kept reminding him of an old discontinued soder cola he used to drink. "It was a... caramel/cola mix. A complete commercial flop, hated by nearly everyone. I drank the stuff like there was no tomorrow. But there was... something weirdly off with the taste. Like an additional, unnecessary ingredient? Questions for later." He got back to his apartment and slipped in through the window. He took off the disposable gloves and threw them into a waste bin. He got changed into a set of pajama pants and went to the bathroom. He flipped the switch and the bulb flickered to life. Thank god he picked up a set of light-bulbs from the hardware store. He grabbed his toothbrush and started scrubbing away at his teeth.