---Killer's POV----

The bar. That's where I was heading.

The small isolated bar down the corner of some shady alleyway with people that look like they'd kill, kidnap or rape you without a second thought.

I only went there because I've got nothing better to do. And because of the fact that no police or officers would risk going in there. I hope.

I hummed, glancing around cautiously to make sure no one else was around before I slipped down the alleyway.

The darkness swallowed me up, hiding me from everyone.

I continued walking forwards, knowing this pathway by heart now.

The bar is probably illegal in every way possible, but either the police haven't found it yet or have given up on trying to make the owner shut it down.

I don't ever socialise in this bar, I keep contact to a minimal. Even the bar tender can barely get any words other than my order out of me.

Well, I always have the same thing these days, so the bar tender doesn't even need to ask. He sees me walk in and he goes to pour me a pint of beer.

I smirked as I saw the familiar entrance to the pub draw into sight.

It was a dimly lit entrance, two flickering lights over either side of the old wooden door. The paint on the door was forever peeling off and the door handle looks so unsanitary that I actually cover my hand with my hoodie sleeve before touching it.

I hummed softly, pushing open the door and walking into the even dimmer-lit large room.

I caught a few peoples attention as I walked in. But they all lost interest and went back to whatever they had been doing once they realised it was me.

I'm a regular here. It's the newbies that get eyed up.

I was happy to see that my normal seat at the bar was empty as always. People know that if they sit in there, they won't be there for long.

The barman nodded in acknowledgement to me, already starting to pour me a pint of my usual order.

I glanced at the bar stool next to my one.

Empty. Just as I expected it to be.

My drink was placed in front of me as I sat down and I immediately reached for it, wincing as the familiar clink of the dull, scratched metal band on my wrist made contact with the chipped pint glass reached my non-existent ears.

I looked down at my wrist, eying up the metal band.

Fifteen years.

That's how long I've been living without magic.

Ever since that massive ambush the police pulled on our gang in our attempts to break Geno and Fresh out of prison.

I had been tackled down in my attempt to escape, and a police officer had managed to lock a magic restraint on my wrist before I stabbed him in the side of the neck.

The keys weren't with him, and I never found them.

Any time I even attempt to do the slightest thing involving magic, it results in the most shocking pain I've felt in a long time.

I gave up trying years ago.

I've done everything from starving myself to get my wrists thinner, chipping off my own bone, using saws and all kinds of equipment. At one point I even considered chopping my hand off.

But I've given up. Magic is behind me now. I barely even think of it to be honest.

As far as I know the only thing that can cut them are those burning knives Cross could summon.

They sure worked on Nightmare's restraints anyway.

If only I hadn't turned down his offer to help fifteen years ago. Maybe I wouldn't be here. Maybe I'd still be with the others.

Suddenly, I was jolted out of my thoughts by the feeling of someone brushing against my arm, which was currently holding onto my pint of beer.

I blinked, glancing over to my side to see that the normally empty seat next to me was now occupied.

I smirked upon seeing who it was.

"So you're back."

It was my mystery guy.

I first met him nine years ago in this very bar. Over the last nine years we've probably shared less than one hundred words. But then again, he's not a regular like me.

He'd appear occasionally here, a small bodied figure in an oversized hoodie.
He always made sure that his face was covered, and never really speaks. But when he does, I could listen forever.

Apparently he's a traveller, on the look for some long lost family member.

It's been nine years. No luck.

I looked him up and down, taking in the usual grey hoodie. It was falling apart by now, patches of other material sewn over all the rips and holes that were starting to form.

He glanced over at me, his eyes catching mine.

"Yeah?"

I smirked, scanning the barely visible features of his face. I've always found him interesting. Looks like he's got quite a few good stories to tell.

"You disappeared for three months." I said simply, watching as he waved the bar man over.

"Why would that affect you?" He muttered, looking down at his hands as the barman poured him the same as I currently had. Except this was a half-pint glass.

"It doesn't."

He blinked in confusion, glancing over at me again.

I didn't meet his eyes like I usually did, instead I focused on his half-covered hands.

They were so small and fragile looking that you'd think they'd belong to a child. And that wasn't the most interesting part. They were the hands of a skeleton.

I flinched as he suddenly hid his hands under his sleeves, having seen what I was focusing on.

I sighed, picking up my drink once more and taking a sip.

He watched me intently, his eyes narrowing slightly as he saw the metal band around my wrist poking out of the end of my hoodie.

"So you're a criminal?"

I blinked, not catching onto what he meant at first until he grabbed onto my wrist. His slender hand gripped onto mine quite tightly actually, he's stronger than I thought he'd be.

He poked the magic restraint, frowning. "You're a criminal."

"Aren't we all?" I chuckled, pulling my wrist out of his grasp.

He looked around us nervously, shivering. "Yeah...sure...whatever you want to believe..."

"I mean you're clearly a criminal." I pointed out. "You're always going missing for long periods of time, no warning or anything. Normally for a few months at a time."

He tilted his head to the side, glancing at me. "And?"

"Well..." I started. "That makes me think you're on the run."

They snorted, leaning back against the bar. "Yup that's me, little ol' me, on the run."

I snickered, sipping my drink once more. "That's just my theory, don't get offended."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Don't worry, it takes a lot to offend me. Oh and your theory is wrong by the way."

I smirked. "Well it was worth a try."

"Mmhm."

I hummed, gulping down the rest of my drink in one go. "You know we've probably exchanged more words in this half hour than we have in the last year.

He stared at his drink, shaking his head slightly as he laughed. "So you've been counting huh?"

I smirked, standing up and dropping some money on the counter. "Maybe."

He stood up next to me, stretching as he also payed. "You leaving?"

I nodded. "Just remembered that I might have left the oven on."

He smirked, following as I pushed past a few people to get to the door.

Once there I opened it, standing to the side to let him go through. "Ladies first~"

He rolled his eyes, stepping out. "Do I look like a lady to you?"

I hummed, shutting the door behind us as we stepped out. "You're hands are rather feminine."

He looked at me, obvious un-amusement in his expression. "Well I'm not a woman."

I snickered, watching as he pulled his hood further over his face. "Well I'll see you round yeah?"

"Yeah, in three months right?" He smirked at me, my silver pupils locking with his hypnotic golden ones.

"I sure hope not."

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Mmmmmmm I wonder who this mystery guy is...

ItS pReTtY oBvIoUs

:3

:'3

:'D

Ily

-Jess-