p_o

Luke was tiptoeing. Stealthily, he walked out of the cleaner's closet. Bright yellow boards screamed for his attention, as he turned a corner, now standing in a corridor adjoining the main concourse of the Mall. At the other end, people thronged, obliviously milling about, dull minds chattering noisily. Luke then remembered the hammer in his hands, its head dripping with angry splotches of blood. The boy cursed himself. Opening a random cupboard, he stashed the hammer behind a white cement tube and closed the door. The object, with its air of untold secrets, disappeared into gloomy haziness.

The bare tube lights lining the ceiling suffused Luke’s cheeks, giving him a doll-like appearance. Unashamed advertisements - unnaturally happy models worshipping and adoring small plastic bottles, and ‘Great Deals!, 70% Off’ - savagely brayed for anyone’s interest, lapping up even the tiniest of glances with a ferocity that shocked. But that was not why Luke was here. Actually, to be quite truthful, Luke was slightly confused. As his eyes roved around, randomly flicking around like the antennas of a cockroach, his heart thudded. Sweat itched at his face, blobs of jabbing cold water running rivulets down his skin. He started moving around the level of the Mall he was on, slithering through crowds of people like oil on water. A girl turned around to look at him with a jolt as he accidentally bumped off her. She smiled. He didn't. Then sometime later, he saw him.

It was just like the face in the photograph. The short stocky man had a large nose, and even larger eyes. Eyes that poked and prodded; that stabbed and gutted. Fierce eyes, set in his face by his thick black eyebrow. He was a huge man, and the universe seemed to rest on his shoulders, as he stoutly lumbered forward. People in front of him veered clear off him even before seeing him, as if his very presence forced them aside. Such a figure he was to Luke, that power was in his being, imprinted deeply into every person he comes across. Luke stood still, and yet a small spasm escaped his body, and he immediately restrained himself from thinking about it. After all, he must kill that man.

The man marched alone, which was a relief to Luke, but many reasons stopped Luke from instinctively pouncing forward. He must not be seen killing the man; He cannot overpower that man with his scrawny body, it would be like throwing branches at a rhino; and there must be some finesse and cleanliness in the art of murder musn’t there? There was only one path available to Luke. Steadily, his back straining with effort, he beat against the relentless flock of people, and trailed behind the man.

Luckily for Luke, and for us readers, the heavy man soon turned to his right and elusively vanished into one of the many snaking corridors maddeningly dotting the walls of the Mall. it was so disconcerting, that for one moment Luke lost his bearings, and reverted to a snivelling young boy crying at the playground. He felt like he was at the center of a magic show, the one who lost it all in the tenth of a second. Then he followed the man into the corridor. It soon became easy ground for the boy; player on home turf. Innocent pipe on the floor, rope, a roll of tape, heavy rocks brought in by the construction workers to keep down tarps. The boy took what he needed.

The man was there after a phone call. Boss wanted him to meet someone, details were vague but apparently, it was someone very important to the well being of the company. The place was shady, a stark backdrop with willowy plastic sheets shuddering in the gentle breeze that he could only see. But of course, Vuggy was loyal, perhaps, loyal to a fault. Something black flitted across two of the translucent hanging sheets. “Hello? Hey man, are you waiting to meet someone? I’m your guy man.” The echo of a chuckle. Vuggy absently twirled the hair on his arm. A small circular roll of tape slowly rolled towards him, as friendly as the Trojan Horse was. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain behind his head, something slammed his head hard. Vuggy was dazed. He looked behind - a boy, a rat half his size, cocked his hand back with a pipe in his grip. The pipe flew forward.


Evening sun slashed across the rusted gate, dappled stripes of light grey crisscrossing the surface of the dull metal. It stood sentry beside the desolate brick walls, red-black powder crumbling into silt. Greedy vines, as starved and hollow as the walls themselves were, spread out across the faded surface of the wall like the patterns of a spiderweb. In the dwindling light of the sky, majestic and grand, sat the old mansion, secrets as deep as the mansion was solid.

The boy was told to come here. A letter instructed that he was to wait here, and just as the sun dips beneath the stocky trees behind the mansion, he would know what to do. Loose stones crackled under his shoes, as he calmly made his way up to the gate. He was hesitant of touching it, the feeble gate looked like it was more a decoration than a security detail. The gate met at the tail of a T junction, and abundant bushes and lean trees loomed above the boy. Silence as gloomy as the moping mansion was sung in the boy’s ears, and only the nudging of gravel on the road eased the grip it held on his thoughts. 

Then, another sound reached the boy. Someone was walking towards the gate. Towards him. Gracefully, he stepped away from the gate, and dived into one of the many thick bushes, merging with the darkness of the receding day. The panicked steps grew closer, and suddenly stopped. The boy couldn’t see anything. The walking started again. It was cruel - like the tempo of some unknown song, the footsteps stopped and started. Terror rang with each flighty step, and even the boy felt illogical trepidation creep up his body.

The man then came into view. Spindly twig-like limbs floated about the shivering man, hardly withstanding his enigmatic movements. Overexcited hands fluttered about his body; touching his jacket, brushing away invisible dust on his trousers, pinching his stomach so hard it must have been painful. And his eyes must be another creature altogether - they energetically rolled in their sockets, rapidly skipping from point to point. That man, the boy decided, must be someone running from someone else so menacing, it could be Death itself. And thus, the boy knew exactly what to do.

From the folds of his shorts, the boy took out a sharp, sharp dagger.