Interview with the Serial Killer. (roxthefox87 & Trias)

[roxthefox87]

Interview with the Serial Killer.​

By roxthefox87 & Trias​

Faith felt her heart pounding inside her chest as she sat uncomfortably in the old abandoned Newspaper Factory at the edge of town. Her friend Jeremy had recommended it as a safe, and secure place to conduct what was to be the biggest interview of her life. It reeked of the stacks of old moldy unprinted newspaper that sat along one of the far walls, and apart from the light cast by a crudely rigged spotlight that Jeremy had set up, it was entirely dark inside. This added to the already creepy nature of the whole ordeal she was about to partake in, but damnit she needed a big break, and this was it.

She was certain of it.

Outside the world was a raging storm the likes of which she couldn’t ever experiencing before. It was downright hostile and made the dubious nature of the old building she was in even more worrisome. Jeremy had assured her that despite its ruinous condition, it was more that sturdy enough to house them for the duration. In fact, were not for the constant barrage of rain against the corrugated ceiling panels overhead, she might not have even known the tropical storm had made landfall two hours earlier.

It had dawned on her, that conducting such an interview in midst of what meteorologists were calling “the storm of the century” wasn’t exactly the best of ideas, but to her it was worth the risk. Besides, she was trusting that Jeremy would keep a keen eye on her, and her subject from wherever it was he’d situated himself. He’d promised her she’d be safe from any harm, and she was trusting of him. All the stories he’d told her of his many tours of Iraq, and Afghanistan had instilled that confidence in her; to her, he was a seasoned combat veteran, and the perfect guy to make sure this went how she envisioned.

Exhaling deeply, she checked the time on her iPhone, noting that it was just two minutes till midnight. Her guest would be arriving soon, and her nerves were on full alert. She caught glimpse of a shadow that seemed to move against one of the old abandoned printing presses and squinted to try and focus better. The spotlight that shone on her and the lone chair that sat across from her glinted against her emerald green eyes, accentuating her beauty as she remained seated. There was a part of her that wanted to shine the flashlight of her iPhone in the direction of the shadows, but the rules of their agreement had forbidden it.

She was to sit in the light, calmly, and wait. That was it. If he was going to show, she had to obey the rules he’d outlined in his email to her. Inhaling deeply, she still couldn’t believe that she’d received his emails in the first place. It had been a desperate attempt to garner his attention, when she started attacking him on Twitter, and in her Blog. He’d been the subject of many reporters, and journalists; but none of them had been so vicious in their condemnation of his actions. She’d eviscerated him with words, and it’d struck a nerve with him. At least, that’s what she’d thought.

Regardless, she had his attention now. That was all she needed. It was part one, of what she assumed would be a three-part plan to end the spree of the most notorious serial killer in modern history. Part two was an interview that she would conduct with him. She’d uncover the story of the man that had captured the attention of the Nation, maybe even the World. She’d reveal him and his motivations to everyone to see and be remembered and praised for it.

Part three was his apprehension. That was why she’d brought in Jeremy. He was out there somewhere in the shadows, waiting for her cue to move in an take this psycho down. She didn't know where he was, but she was confident he was watching her like a hawk. He would make sure that when she’d finished her interview, that this sick sadistic killer wouldn’t leave to continue his spree. For that, she’d be hailed as a hero. It was her ticket to something greater. She would be a legend after tonight. She just had to stomach speaking to such evil in person, then it’d all be over. This was her moment.

Checking her phone again, it turned over to 12:00am on the dot, and she exhaled nervously.

 

[Trias]

It was when the clock struck midnight that Kieran let his presence be known. For all the build-up, for all the atmosphere, it was a simple thing, his entrance; no longer masking his footfalls he strode from within the shadows toward the readied chair with a steady, deliberate gait. He'd watched this curious woman's arrival from a safe distance, through the cameras he had arranged, and up to now she had followed his directions to the letter.

Well, other then bringing her soldier friend... but he had both expected and prepared for just that; always, he did his research. For now, his approach from the shadows was the final test as he watched to see if she would shine a light on him to prematurely reveal his face. He was pleased when she didn't, proving herself either a woman of her word, or foolishly trusting of this Jeremy to keep her safe. Regardless of her reason, her patience was rewarded when he emerged into the spotlight, finally showing himself to his woman who had so vitriolically condemned him.

He'd dressed for the occasion, a sharp black blazer over a grey shirt, with matching pants, well-fitted and worn in almost open defiance of her declaration that he was a classless low-life thug. Black hair kept short and combed back over a very carefully groomed short-cropped beard caught the light, as did the pale blue, nearly grey eyes that regarded her in amusement. He took his time seating himself, brushing the chair with his hand before lowering himself into it. His eyes met hers, holding her gaze for several moments to the point of discomfort before before he smiled and spoke first, as he said he would.

"Quite a location you've chosen, Faith... I approve. It's very macabre, old-world Gothic horror. Don't you think?" He asked, his voice unexpectedly ordinary, albeit deep. His tone was outright conversational, as though he were every bit at home here as he would be anywhere.

Seemingly awaiting her response, those ice cold eyes studied her features carefully, taking in the sight of her up-close after weeks of images from social media and the bylines to the piddling articles she had to her name until now. Though his face betrayed none of his thoughts on the matter, he was pleased... pleased that she was as pretty as her pictures had made her seem, pretty enough to be worth a little of his time with her complementary red hair and green eyes. Coupled with the very intense hatred and scorn she had piled onto him online, he was very much looking forward to seeing how she held up in person, before showing her just what she was to him.

Doubtless she saw it different, with herself as the heroine set to spring the trap. A notion he would relish disabusing her of, but that was for later. It would not do to rush for dessert when an entire, irresistible meal awaited him should he play his cards right.

 

[roxthefox87]

Swallowing audibly, Faith shifted uncomfortably in her chair as the Serial Killer emerged unceremoniously from the darkness of the shadows. She crossed her long ivory pale legs in front of her in an attempt to hide the unease building in her stomach. The fact that he’d not made more of his reveal to her was unsettling and had caught her off guard. She’d been expecting some kind of grandiose expression meant to intimidate or impress her; instead he’d simply appeared and aside from brushing clean his chair, took his seat opposite of her.

Her brilliant eyes moved over him appraisingly as he took his seat as she searched for any signs of what she’d assumed to be his more basic persona. She’d painted a picture of some brutal savage on her blog and in her tweets, but again her preconceived notions were cast aside. He was no brute. He was the essence of class, and it annoyed her immensely. She’d wanted him so badly to be a simple man, that she’d convinced herself that he simply was. She wasn’t wrong, she couldn’t have been wrong. But she was. She clenched her jaw in reaction to his calm, practiced mannerisms and it was obvious this bothered her.

Worse still, aside from being very sharply dressed, he was decidedly handsome.

It was then that she’d regretted dressing so alluringly herself. The supremely fitted black blazer clung to the slender athletic curves of her body underneath, matched by a simple black skirt that only served to display more perfectly the lovely shape of her well-toned thighs and the velvety smooth long legs that ended in a black pair of Manolo Blahnik stilettos that probably cost more than the car she drove. But she wanted the world to see her looking her absolute finest as she took this scum of the Earth down.

All her life she’d been accused of exploiting her good looks for personal gain. Her colleagues at the newspaper had little to no approval of her and treated her like an office skank from day one. It was why she’d carried herself with such contempt for everyone, even if they hadn’t earned it from her. Especially considering she had used her good looks for personal advancement; having literally slept her way from a lowly copy editor, to the investigative writer she was now. But she was determined to prove the truth wrong, by landing the biggest story of the century.

As his eyes caught her own, she felt a sudden fright of panic wash over her, and for a moment she thought she might legitimately get up and walk out of there while she still could. She gripped her phone more tightly as she tried to find the courage to stay put and exhaled nervously as she was rewarded with just enough.

“Years ago, when the world brought an end to the criminal careers of pathetic cockroaches, it was places like this that would shine the light the brightest.” She’d rehearsed this retort a dozen times in the mirror before leaving her downtown apartment earlier that day, and now as she was saying it to the person it was intended for, she felt her convictions waiver just as her voice did ever so slightly. “I thought it poetic, considering I’m about to do that very same thing to you.”

She leant back in her chair a little, waiting to see what he would think of her newest scornful attack, granted she’d made many more just like it in her crusade against him and his legacy online. She wanted to skewer him in person the way she did online, if her courage would only last long enough.

 

[Trias]

Kieran only listened patiently as she delivered her scornful but so carefully prepared words, like a parent humouring a precocious child's tirade. He'd expected just this, the bluster, the showmanship, from a woman so good with words but so hopelessly out of her element otherwise. His eyes on hers, for all the world listening politely as though this were nothing but a debate, even a civil discussion. Or so it appeared on the surface, but the coldness of those eyes masked something worse, something predatory, and it was not bothered by her verbal attack. He even smiled a bit, his lips together.

In contrast to his 'date' for the night, he was not surprised by the woman he found waiting for him, not yet. While he was pleased to have her physical appearance meet his standards as in the pictures he had seen, she was otherwise everything he had expected. Ambitious, but to a greater degree than her ability warranted. The rumours had been easy to dig up, that this upstart journalist's meteoric rise had been helped along by those shapely legs she had put on display for him, the swell of her chest beneath that jacket, the soft and alluring features framed by that red hair. She might even have had the talent to get where she was, but oh, it seemed likely to him she hadn't been so patient. Not when there was a faster way... and now, she would see where it had gotten her.

"Ah, it's poetic justice you crave." He nodded, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms across his chest without breaking her gaze. "Understandable, but you're being too selective with your history. Sure, the great and terrible men who once ran the streets of cities like these often met their ends in the very warehouses they kept stocked with bootleg whiskey and smuggled guns. But that was such a brief period, the triumph of law and order. You're ignoring the much longer history of violence, of the boring lawmen and hapless witnesses executed in dark corners, corpses stuffed into the river or shipped away in crates or just left to rot."

His face broke into a broad smile as he leaned forward. "Really, violence, bloodshed, and murder are the legacy of these buildings, my dear. In that, I find your choice very poetic indeed. But really, we're getting off-topic... and your time must be very important, rising star that you are. I've read some of your articles, you're not bad."

Seemingly finished for the moment, he sat and continued to watch her, to see how she would attempt to regain control of her big interview. Oh, this beautiful young woman... he suspected she didn't know real pain, or humiliation. Just the stories, the monsters she'd read about and hungered to write about. Fascinated by the darkness, unaware of just how close it was to claiming her.