On a restless city night, the street in front of a luxury hotel was a chaotic swarm of activity. Media crews and curious onlookers crowded the entrance, eager for a glimpse of the elite. Powerful businessmen, celebrities, and prominent politicians moved smoothly across the red carpet, illuminated by the flashing lights of the cameras from various news outlets.
Meanwhile, on the fifteenth floor, the main event was in full swing. The ballroom was hosting a gala for the grand opening of the new Cropic Holdings branch. Guests mingled, their conversations a hum of business deals and shallow small talk, passing the time before the night's highlight began.
Among the crowd stood Kenzii, disguised as one of the guests in his stylish suit. He stood silently in a corner, spinning the wine inside his glass. His eyes, however, were not those of a guest; they were the eyes of a predator mapping a cage.
He scanned the assembly, mentally confirming the layout he had memorized days prior. He knew every corner of this hotel floor, as well as the best exit route once the deed was done. He tracked the patrol patterns of the guards and the blind spots of the CCTV cameras. His face, subtly altered by high-grade prosthetic disguise, betrayed nothing.
Suddenly the lights dimmed. A spotlight pierced the dark, centering on a small stage as a host in a sharp formal tuxedo stepped forward.
Kenzii, stood straight looking forward to the stage where the host was standing proudly. He is about to introduce Kenzii's target, which made him smirk.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," the host beamed. "I'm Merf, your guide through tonight's event." he smiled looking around the people in the room then smiled widely. He continued blabbering things that made the guest laugh as he kept walking around the stage.
"We are here to celebrate a massive milestone: the expansion of Cropic Holdings." He lowered his voice slightly, a smile never leaving his face. "Tonight, we celebrate the vision of a man who seemingly doesn't know the meaning of the word weekend—a man dedicated to the prosperity of our nation. And the man who deserves everybody's respect."
Merf straightened his posture, his expression shifting to one of genuine respect as he pointed an arm toward the wings of the stage. "Please, put your hands together and help me give a loud applause to a true servant of the people—Senator Enrico Mendez!"
The room erupted in applause as the target walked up to the stage. To the crowd, he was a pillar of the community. To Kenzii, he was a walking corpse.
Above the Senator's head, a shimmering, demonic hologram only Kenzii could see displayed the man's true record. A cold, playful smirk tugged at Kenzii's lips as he listened to Mendez speak. The Senator's voice was smooth as silk, weaving lies about patriotism, his love for his employees, and his tireless service to the poor.
Every word made Kenzii's skin crawl. He knew the truth that the public didn't: Enrico Mendez, was a founding member of "The Leeches," a group of powerful individuals who bled the globe dry. Kenzii silently hoped the Devil's next contract would lead him to the rest of them.
Mendez, known as a pillar of the community and a devoted family man, was responsible for the disappearance of a hundred drug dealers in the country—not out of concern for the law and the people, but to protect the cartels under his own wing. He had personally overseen the torture and execution of dozen of people, ordering their bodies
into a lake. His private life was even darker; he was a predator who abused women, including his own wife—and his most unpardonable sin, the horrible abuse of his only daughter.
Tonight, his debt was due. His heart would belong to Kenzii.
When the speech concluded, Mendez stepped down to mingle, and the hunt began. Spotting a server carrying the Senator's drink, Kenzii moved with practiced smoothness. He pretended to stumble, bumping into the waiter for a split second—to exchange their drinks. After a brief apology, he drank the senators supposedly drink then turned and headed toward the nearest restroom.
Kenzii watched from a distance as the Senator downed the tainted drink. Within minutes, Mendez turned pale, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.
"Excuse me, partner," the Senator muttered to a colleague, forcing a smile before rushing toward the nearest restroom where Kenzii waited. As soon as Mendez entered, Kenzii followed and turned the lock. He went to the far end of the stall, opening a pre-secured cubicle to retrieve a briefcase he had hidden earlier.
Kenzii laid the briefcase open on the vanity. As expected, Mendez emerged from a stall and stumbled toward the sink to splash water on his face. Kenzii watched him in the mirror until the Senator finally noticed the gaze.
"What are you staring at?" Mendez snapped, reaching for a paper towel.
Kenzii merely smirked, slowly rolling up the sleeves of his suit.
"What are you doing, you idiot?" the Senator asked, his voice full of arrogance.
"Are you ready to pay for your sins, Senator Enrico Mendez?" Kenzii asked. His voice was a low, terrifying rasp, accompanied by a demonic smile that spread across his face.
"W-what are you talking about? Stay back!" Mendez retreated, his back hitting the cold tiles as Kenzii closed the distance.
"Today is the day of reckoning." Kenzii's face remained expressionless as he looked at him, making the Senators heart pound.
"D-do you think I'm scared of you, huh? Stay away!" he tried to smile, looking around hoping there was someone around. "Where is the guard? How can someone like you enter this high end place? I don't remember inviting you." he arrogantly said, looking at Kenzii up and down.
"Well I invited myself, since I need to get something from you." Kenzii then looked down at his hand, slowly turning into a red violet demonic arm. "How about giving me your heart?"
"He—" Mendez tried to scream, but the sound died in his throat.
Kenzii's hand moved faster than the human eye could track. His fingers, infused with a dark, ancient energy, tore through the Senator's expensive clothing and into his chest. There was no struggle—only the wet thud of a heart being ripped out. Only a few stray drops of blood hit the floor; the rest stained the Senator's own tuxedo as Kenzii placed the corrupt organ into the small briefcase.
.
An hour passed. The Senator's inner circle grew restless. Friends and business associates began to scan the room, questioning where he had gone. The last anyone saw of him, he was heading toward the restroom.
Before a search party could be formed, a blood-curdling scream echoed from the toilets. Guests rushed toward the sound. They found a young man collapsed by the door of the final cubicle, his eyes wide with terror as he stared inside.
The crowd gathered, gasps of horror filling the room. There sat Senator Enrico Mendez, steady sitting on the toilet, eyes wide in a permanent mask of terror. In his left chest was an empty hole—the signature of the serial killer who had evaded capturefor years.
The vigilante the world called the "Soul Collector" had struck again.