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Steve "KingSlayer" Davids · **07-15-2014, 03:33 AM**

An ominous whisper echoed down the almost silent hallway.

I left Morgan, shaking in the corner of his room with a blanket over him whilst I went searching for the man who had saved me last night. Whilst I usually had a knack for getting away with murder, literally, that was usually down to luck rather than technique. Perhaps Morgan's hired assassin could be of use. I assumed he was an assassin anyway.

I slowly stumbled down the eerie hallway and at the end of it was a brown wooden chair, it looked like it should have been at a desk or something. Instead, it was on its own against a wall, out of place.

That's when my eyes lit up for a moment, a little bit of happiness rushed around my body for a moment. My briefcase.

The 24/7 briefcase that I earned a few months ago was placed on its own on top of the chair, I had no idea how it got there but I was relieved. I had a bad habit of losing it.

I fell down onto the chair and grasped the briefcase and held it close to my chest. I pushed it in front of me and looked deeply at it, so closely it was as if I could see into it. My face lit up...

“So you found your briefcase then?” The strong french accent echoed down the hall as the suited man stood over me, looking down at the briefcase over my shoulder, he had a glint in his eye.

“Thank the non-existent Gods,” I responded with needless sarcasm.

“You can just thank me instead, anyway, have you seen to your brother yet? I'm not sure even I can clear up this mess. He's really done it this time,” I found this response particularly interesting, why didn't he care at all about the fact his boss had murdered the love of his life? Instead it seemed like it was just another piece of work, a bit more hassle or something.

“I'm sorry but you don't seem to care that much that Lisa's dead,” I looked up at him, a bit unsure.

“And why would I? I didn't know her, I've never even met her. Who can I even be sorry towards? He's the only person who loved her, she was hated by almost anyone she had ever spoken to. Sure, he really did love her, but he is the one who murdered her, so I'm not particularly sorry that she's dead. She was a bitter woman,” he was the one who sounded as bitter as a lemon, I am sure there is something that he didn't want to tell me but I'm not entirely sure it would be wise to ask him.

“I did not know her, so I cannot argue against these claims. I do not think wishing death upon anyone is healthy though."

"Oh I did not want her to die, but at the same time I do not care that she is dead. I doubt anyone will care. Only Morgan, but he can hardly complain seeing as he's the one who strangled her to death. The better question is, what shall we do with her corpse?"

"I was hoping you would have the answer to that, seeing as you seem to have removed Lacey and Mark's bodies easily enough."

"Well I have a guy for these things usually, but he used to work for Lisa and Morgan so we may be alone on this one."

"Shall we just burn the body? I've gazed out into that woods for days on end and I haven't seen presence from human or animal."

"Yeah why not," he shrugged his shoulders, not fussed about the remains, "by the way, my name's Pierre. Pierre Bernard."

"Well it's good to know that, at last," I stood up, and placed the briefcase in my left hand and held out my right hand, he gladly accepted it with a sincere smile on his face.

We nodded at each other and strolled down the corridor, we entered Morgan's room, he was stood over Lisa's corpse whilst red with anger.

"WAKE UP YOU BITCH!"Seems like it wasn't enough that he had murdered her.

He placed his hands around her throat once more until Pierre and I grabbed him and slung him against the wall.

"Enough!" Pierre bellowed.

"I'm done with sorting out your shit and you making a mockery out of it. Now calm the fuck down!"

"HOW DARE YOU! How dare you speak to me like that! You are MY employee," his shouts turned into a monotonous cold whimper.

"Is that all I am to you Morgan? An employee, maybe you don't need me after all, if you think I am just here for money then you are sadly mistaken. I do not need your money, I do not..."

"Right, everyone just calm down a second, there's a rotting corpse in the room and I think that should be dealt with first..."

"Exactly."

Pierre pulled two pairs of gloves out of his back pocket and handed me a pair. I was wearing blue jeans and annoyingly white tee shirt, it certainly wouldn't be white when this was done. We hoisted her dead weight onto our shoulders and carried her through the grand house.

It was bigger than I had even imagined. There were rooms where there didn't even need to be rooms. It was incredibly old fashioned considering the amount of money that my brother was worth, but it had a homely feel to it...

We threw her body outside for a moment, I turned to see that the sign 'Davids Household' was crumbling, a large part of it had already fallen off.

"We probably should have prepared a fire before we just carried the corpse out here," I said, trying to ease the tension - but it didn't.

"Not our brightest idea," Pierre responded, half in jest.

Morgan stared out into the cold woods from the rusty window.

So we made a fire, it took us around 30 minutes and we did so in complete and utter silence with only the winds to keep us company. The fire begun to roar like a lion but it was far enough away from anything else that may have led to a large fire.

Morgan came out, silent, in nothing other than a dressing gown. He stared blankly at the corpse as me and Pierre lifted her onto the fire.

"Any last words?" Pierre asked, staring at Morgan intently.

The owner merely shook his head and walked away, emotionless.

"Any prayers?" He looked at me, seriously.

"Ha. I do not pray," I had a sad smile on my face.

"And why not?" This was shocking news, apparently.

"I do not pray because I do not believe in any god other than Death. He does not accept prayers. Tell me Pierre, what God do you believe in?"

"All of them," he said without hesitance, I wasn't sure how to respond.

"Tell me though, Steve, how is it that only you and Morgan remain?" A question that needed a long answer.

"The greatest of men are morphed in flames. When I was born I murdered my mother in order to enter this world and my father then begun a personal vendetta against me. He set alight to what was our house and he took Morgan and the others with him. My uncle saved me from the flames, but it did not end. Ever. You see, these events from an early age ripped my soul and my brain apart. I became a monster, THE monster that I am now. I murdered mere boys when they did not give me what I wanted, and I was forced into the darkest asylum of all time. Hellington." Pierre gasped slightly as I took a deep breath before continuing.

"It was there that I learned to control my actions, sort of. But my father never forgave me, he begun working for Mark in order to make my life a living hell and that it is. He achieved the goal in his life but at the cost of just that, his life. He spent it wrapped up in making mine a misery and I ultimately did what I had to do,"

"Your family is messed up, but you certainly do not seem like a monster to me."

"Good. I never meant to hurt anyone. When your soul has been ripped apart like mine, it is hard to hold control anymore."

We stood and spoke for ages as waited for the fires to burn out. All that remained were ashes. I turned to the window, and Morgan still stood there, blankly. He had not moved in hours and I'm not sure he had even blinked.

It got colder as the shadows begun to suffocate us.

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