Internet Killers Post[/color]]
Watching her gaze move to the group of young women, Analise's expression entranced him. The way she briefly closed her eyes and parted her lips indicated to the killer not signs of fear or hesitation, but physical signals of excitement, as blatant as the erection he'd drawn her touch to. What had the Dyke thought about that? Norris made a mental note to ask later, if there was a later for Analise, and shook his head at her renewed display of ego, after she stepped out of the car. "Hopefully, it won't be you that needs to die, Ms Helm."
Whether she heard his reply was uncertain, as the woman was apparently in a rush, swiftly calling out to the bouncer, and leading him by the hand into the club. Another excited twenty-something girl out for a fun night, dragging her possibly reluctant boyfriend along with her. That image elicited a sense of mirth in Pete, before the music assaulted his eardrums. When Analise's grip slipped from his, he made no effort to shout out, or follow, but instead, allowed her to disappear, content to leave her to hunt for their prey.
Ordering a Pepsi at the bar, he placed himself on a stool, and let it be known that he wasn't looking to be approached by his straight-backed, standoffish demeanour. As he sipped at the beverage, he surveyed the crowd again, and located Analise on the dance floor, which quickly began to fill. Pete contemplated as he watched, gaze moving from woman to woman, if they sensed the same force of personality in her that he did, and which would be her target.
Would Analise would find her, or would the other find Analise? Who, out all these pretty, young girls, would be the one later that night on their knees in front of Pete Norris, battered and bleeding, features screwed up in agony, begging for her life, and body ravaged beyond repair. All for his enjoyment, and that of the confident, attractive woman strutting her stuff under the strobe lights, to whom the other dancers appeared to gravitate like moths to a flame.
It didn't take long to find out, and Pete appreciated the choice. Smaller than Analise, pretty and lithe, she'd appeared to be the aggressor, and that was a positive. She might put up a fight. When they departed the dance-floor, he tossed a ten dollar bill on the bar counter, and slipped through the crowd towards them. Like a shadow, he moved, avoiding eye contact with others, and making himself invisible, until he eventually reached the two, having deliberately stayed out of Analise's field of vision. He knew how much she enjoyed surprises.
"Not leaving without me, I hope?"
Without warning, he slipped between the couple, nodded his approval to Analise, then smiled down at her companion, "And you are?"
The stranger giggled in surprise as she looked up at Pete, and appraised him, obviously not minding what she saw. "Stephanie."
"Nice to meet you Stephanie, I'm Pete. Pete Norris." He savoured the opportunity to reveal his identity; it wasn't as if she'd live to tell anyone. "Mind if I tag along?"
Stephanie giggled a second time, briefly causing Norris to wonder if Ms Helm had ignored his orders, and the girl was drunk. Or maybe she was just a slut, happy to be picked up and screwed by random strangers any night of the week. Most likely the latter, the majority of young women were these days. Blame it on feminism. "Not at all."
The killer's charm worked a treat, as he placed a hand on her back, and continued to casually flirt, heading out of the club, where only a few people lingered outside. Taking over the lead from Analise, he distracted Stephanie's attention from the isolated location of the vehicle with friendly banter, and led them to it.
"Oh, did Analise tell you, it's her birthday?" When they arrived, Pete used the remote on his key-ring to unlock the doors, flashing lights briefly illuminating the darkness.
"Really?" The girl shot a congratulatory look at Analise, then returned her attention to Pete.
"Really. And a man's got to keep his woman happy, so, tonight, you're her present."
Glancing over at his partner in crime, Norris popped the trunk. ""Isn't that right, honey? Why don't you explain to this cheap whore what you want me to do to her, and how I like it rough. Ask the bitch if she enjoys taking it up the ass." His tone suddenly ice-cold, and the words, taunting, Pete noticed the girl shirk slightly away from his touch.
"Um, maybe this isn't such a good idea." Stephanie took a step away, confused eyes darting between Pete and Analise, and the dark, deserted car park that stood between her and the safety of the Club. However, even if she'd realised that she'd gotten herself into a dangerous situation, and intended to try to run, it was too late. The second the words spilled from her mouth, Pete Norris pulled her towards him, and launched a vicious fist into the woman's solar plexus.
As the impact doubled her over, dropping Stephanie to her knees, gasping for air, with shock writ on her features, he reached into the trunk. Collecting a length of nylon rope he'd prepared earlier, Pete draped the noose over their victim's neck, then jerked on the other end, tightening the cord around her throat to prevent any screams, and raised an eyebrow at Analise Helm. "You want to drive, or shall I? Somewhere quiet, where Stephanie and I can become better acquainted."
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