Sunday, 10th October 2010
Wanting to test the limits of his resolve, Mateo walks along the street beneath the cold glow of the streetlights, moving like a shadow. Each step is deliberate, quiet, almost ritualistic. Tonight is not random. Tonight is a trial.
He studies faces as they pass, searching for one that feels right. Hours seem to slip by until, finally, he finds her — a young woman, walking home alone, unremarkable in every way. That makes her perfect.
He follows her at a careful distance, noting her route, memorising the rhythm of her steps. When she disappears inside her house, he does not act. Not yet. Mateo has learned patience over aeons — he wants more than a kill. He wants knowledge, control, understanding.
Eavesdrop. Follow. Gather. Observe. These are not just actions — they are devotions.
Name: Elena VossAge: 23Address: 427 Willowcrest Avenue, Brookhaven, NY 11904Schedule: Prepare breakfast. Go to work. Return home. Complete daily tasks. Sleep.
Her life is ordinary, repetitive, vulnerable.
The discovery that her father is a detective sends a spark through Mateo's mind. The risk of exposure, the possibility of pursuit — it does not deter him. It sharpens him. The thought of being hunted makes him smile.
Through a phishing attack, Mateo gains control of Elena's phone, reading every message, every moment. She and her father, Asher Voss, are close. If she were to vanish, he would raise the alarm within hours. Good. The world will take notice.
Despite his immense strength, he still wishes to remain unseen. He moves with impossible speed, stealing what he needs without ever being spotted: a bulletproof suit, a level-four ballistic vest, a reinforced ballistic mask, gloves, and a sharpened axe.
Now fully prepared, he waits.
Friday, 15th October 2010
The clock reads 22:03. From a safe distance, Mateo listens through Elena's phone, hidden as a silent observer.
"See you tomorrow."
"Stay safe, sweetie."
BEEP. The call ends.
Mateo's pulse quickens. Tonight is the night.
Inside her house, Elena sets her phone aside, drinks a glass of water, and settles into bed.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
A noise at the window. She ignores it at first — the birds are notorious for pecking at the glass.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
Her brow furrows. The pattern is too precise.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
Cold dread crawls down her spine.
Then — silence.
Elena lets out a shaky breath and closes her eyes.
23:48.
An urge wakes her. She needs the toilet. The memory of the tapping lingers, making her skin prickle as she moves through the quiet house.
CREEEEEAK.
The corridor is empty. She exhales, reassured, and continues forward.
The toilet flushes. She returns towards the bedroom — and stops. The air has changed. It is heavy now, pressing against her skin. Every floorboard groans too loudly, as if mocking her.
A faint knock echoes from her room.
Her heart stops.
Then — her phone rings. The shrill sound tears through the silence.
BANG!
Something slams against the bedroom window. Elena jumps, stumbling backwards.
She runs. Her phone is frozen, unresponsive. The door splinters.
She has no choice. She throws open the window and leaps.
Pain explodes through her spine as she lands in the garden, her body no longer obeying her.
Mateo steps through the doorway, calm, methodical.
She can only watch as he approaches, the mask gleaming faintly in the moonlight.
He crouches over her.
SSSHLIK.
Her head falls.
Mateo dips his fingers in her blood and draws the strange, slanted, lower-case q across her forehead. The symbol is not random — it is a signature, a promise.
For a long moment, he just kneels there, staring at his work. The breeze brushes across his mask, carrying away the last of the night's warmth.
Something shifts in him. The fear that once ruled his life is gone, replaced with clarity. This is not just revenge — it is evolution. He is no longer prey.
He stands, the axe dripping red.
Tonight is the beginning of something greater.