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AlluringEnigma
Wet Narcissist
- Joined
- Feb 25, 2016
- Location
- Madness Incarnate
Neon had replaced moonlight. If Elijah Knight had been prowling the streets of London a few centuries ago, he would have been bathed in moonlight. Now, it seemed the shadows were formed by wherever neon
lights had flickered out, or wherever had managed to avoid their oppressive, dull glow.
His favorite part of town was the old and nearly-abandoned warehouse sector for that reason. As companied had continued to consolidate, small and independent warehouses had become less and less common, until all that was left were husks. One day this whole place would be torn down and replaced with houses, or ritzy apartments, or some glamorous boulevard. For now, it was where the underbelly of the city persisted, tucked away from the site of the richer, denser population of the city.
Elijah made his way into one particular warehouse. The door was held in place by a padlock, and he produced a key from the long and baggy clothing he had worn for this particular day. Methodically, with a precision usually reserved for much more sensitive activities, he unlocked the padlock and stowed it in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. He pushed one of the doors slightly ajar and slipped inside the building.
It had been two months since Elijah’s last victim. She had been beautiful. He had such high hopes for her when he had set his sights on her. Elijah had been on a bit of a streak with his picks lately. It had been a full year since he had to cleanse the world – his victims had more than lived up to their potential in his trials and tribulations. Unfortunately, it seemed he had not quite mastered his eyes yet, and the girl had proved to be much better at sobbing than problem solving.
He remembered the moment when he stepped in the same room as her. He stood there now, in the quiet aftermath, carefully inspecting the walls and floors. The faint scratches of her nails against the floor as he had dragged her away were still present on the worn floorboards – it only took a careful eye to spot them. When he had stepped in the room, she had asked him why, through her tears, and the question had made him angry.
“Why? Why? Because this world is full of people, who just exist, for no reason. There is no reason for any of this, my dear. None at all. There is no entrance exam for the world. No one is asked to prove their worth. That’s all I’m doing. Making sure you belong.” The memory of explaining himself made him clinch his fists, he hated explaining what should have been so obvious.
She had called him insane. Of course, the fact bothered him little. If she had been smart enough to understand his vision, she would have found her way out of the warehouse and out of his clutches like the others fortunate enough to receive his attentions. If anything, at the end of it all, that night had made him feel better. As he had tied her to the chair at the center of the room (it was gone now, perhaps some drifter had fancied it), he was satisfied that his tests had not become softer somehow. Her screams only fueled his confidence.
Unlike other killers, Eljah’s purpose was not visceral. Though he certainly enjoyed culling those who did not live up to his standards, he enjoyed those who did just as much. Thus he had taken his usual time away from the scene after his last kill. After all, too much attention and his efforts would end and the city would be worse off without him.
Elijah smiled to himself as entered another room of the warehouse. He had come back for a specific reason tonight, and the anticipation of his newest purpose filled him with excitement the likes of which he had never felt before. He had acquired his first admirer.
He knew very little about her. He preferred it that way. He did know she was some sort of reporter. Perhaps she was looking to make a name for herself. Perhaps she had an overdeveloped sense of justice. Or perhaps she was just enthralled with his work – he certainly hoped so.
He had given her quite some thought in the last couple weeks, as he determined what exactly to do about his new admirer. He doubted she would describe herself as such, he assumed she was likely disgusted by him. Elijah knew that if he just showed her what good he was doing for the city, she would change her tune.
Of course, the simplest solution would be to simply evade her. A few weeks of nothing, and she would likely disappear from his trail, swept by the constant news cycle of the city onto another beat. Yet, the idea seemed so off putting to him. She had seen past his camouflage and managed to identify him. Maybe she was worthy of an honor he had never bestowed before.
Thus, he had resolved that she would be tested. Rigorously. Perhaps she would fail and he would rid the city of another tiresome, glory-chasing journalist. Perhaps she would succeed. Both thoughts invigorated him.
Elijah dropped to his knees and felt around on the floorboards for a small, hollow section. His hand happened upon the worn wood, and he pulled the section of floorboard out, revealing a small hideaway. He pulled out several items: a razor sharp knife that he performed all his best work with, a quill and ink jar, and a small journal. Within the pages of that journal were the names of every person who had ever endured one of his tests. The book was nearly full, and thus he flipped to the last quarter of the book and to a fresh, new page.
He set down the ink jar and unscrewed the top, dipping his quill into the inky liquid. He tapped it several times against the glass, before setting it against the paper. At the top he simply wrote “Jaina Chapman” and then gently underlined it.
So it began.
A letter arrived, slipped under her door while she was away from home. It was handwritten in ink, and what followed was a very simple message – the beginning of her first test.
Admiring me from afar,
Now you will be allowed to enter my abattoir
Seeking me like a white whale
Be careful,
You know not what I entail
lights had flickered out, or wherever had managed to avoid their oppressive, dull glow.
His favorite part of town was the old and nearly-abandoned warehouse sector for that reason. As companied had continued to consolidate, small and independent warehouses had become less and less common, until all that was left were husks. One day this whole place would be torn down and replaced with houses, or ritzy apartments, or some glamorous boulevard. For now, it was where the underbelly of the city persisted, tucked away from the site of the richer, denser population of the city.
Elijah made his way into one particular warehouse. The door was held in place by a padlock, and he produced a key from the long and baggy clothing he had worn for this particular day. Methodically, with a precision usually reserved for much more sensitive activities, he unlocked the padlock and stowed it in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. He pushed one of the doors slightly ajar and slipped inside the building.
It had been two months since Elijah’s last victim. She had been beautiful. He had such high hopes for her when he had set his sights on her. Elijah had been on a bit of a streak with his picks lately. It had been a full year since he had to cleanse the world – his victims had more than lived up to their potential in his trials and tribulations. Unfortunately, it seemed he had not quite mastered his eyes yet, and the girl had proved to be much better at sobbing than problem solving.
He remembered the moment when he stepped in the same room as her. He stood there now, in the quiet aftermath, carefully inspecting the walls and floors. The faint scratches of her nails against the floor as he had dragged her away were still present on the worn floorboards – it only took a careful eye to spot them. When he had stepped in the room, she had asked him why, through her tears, and the question had made him angry.
“Why? Why? Because this world is full of people, who just exist, for no reason. There is no reason for any of this, my dear. None at all. There is no entrance exam for the world. No one is asked to prove their worth. That’s all I’m doing. Making sure you belong.” The memory of explaining himself made him clinch his fists, he hated explaining what should have been so obvious.
She had called him insane. Of course, the fact bothered him little. If she had been smart enough to understand his vision, she would have found her way out of the warehouse and out of his clutches like the others fortunate enough to receive his attentions. If anything, at the end of it all, that night had made him feel better. As he had tied her to the chair at the center of the room (it was gone now, perhaps some drifter had fancied it), he was satisfied that his tests had not become softer somehow. Her screams only fueled his confidence.
Unlike other killers, Eljah’s purpose was not visceral. Though he certainly enjoyed culling those who did not live up to his standards, he enjoyed those who did just as much. Thus he had taken his usual time away from the scene after his last kill. After all, too much attention and his efforts would end and the city would be worse off without him.
Elijah smiled to himself as entered another room of the warehouse. He had come back for a specific reason tonight, and the anticipation of his newest purpose filled him with excitement the likes of which he had never felt before. He had acquired his first admirer.
He knew very little about her. He preferred it that way. He did know she was some sort of reporter. Perhaps she was looking to make a name for herself. Perhaps she had an overdeveloped sense of justice. Or perhaps she was just enthralled with his work – he certainly hoped so.
He had given her quite some thought in the last couple weeks, as he determined what exactly to do about his new admirer. He doubted she would describe herself as such, he assumed she was likely disgusted by him. Elijah knew that if he just showed her what good he was doing for the city, she would change her tune.
Of course, the simplest solution would be to simply evade her. A few weeks of nothing, and she would likely disappear from his trail, swept by the constant news cycle of the city onto another beat. Yet, the idea seemed so off putting to him. She had seen past his camouflage and managed to identify him. Maybe she was worthy of an honor he had never bestowed before.
Thus, he had resolved that she would be tested. Rigorously. Perhaps she would fail and he would rid the city of another tiresome, glory-chasing journalist. Perhaps she would succeed. Both thoughts invigorated him.
Elijah dropped to his knees and felt around on the floorboards for a small, hollow section. His hand happened upon the worn wood, and he pulled the section of floorboard out, revealing a small hideaway. He pulled out several items: a razor sharp knife that he performed all his best work with, a quill and ink jar, and a small journal. Within the pages of that journal were the names of every person who had ever endured one of his tests. The book was nearly full, and thus he flipped to the last quarter of the book and to a fresh, new page.
He set down the ink jar and unscrewed the top, dipping his quill into the inky liquid. He tapped it several times against the glass, before setting it against the paper. At the top he simply wrote “Jaina Chapman” and then gently underlined it.
So it began.
~~
A letter arrived, slipped under her door while she was away from home. It was handwritten in ink, and what followed was a very simple message – the beginning of her first test.
Admiring me from afar,
Now you will be allowed to enter my abattoir
Seeking me like a white whale
Be careful,
You know not what I entail
