The Tear Stealer gazed at the screens, face illuminated with the blue static of security footage. Eyes, a stout figure, hunched over the screens, pushing up her glasses.

"That's him?" he asked, staring at the human on the screen walking down the sidewalks. Eyes nodded, using her ability to keep the cameras focused on the target's frame.

"Ethan Nestor," she said, his figure sharpening at the sound of his name. "He hasn't said a word since he left his house." A flash of Ethan's house glitched across the screen, mimicking Eye's thoughts. "No texts yet, either."

"If he gives any sign of the other human, tell me," said the Evolved, rising to his full height and glaring at the screens. "I'm bringing Xilef with me."

"He'll identify the human," said Eyes confidently, and a flash of his face simmered on the screen. "I'll keep you updated every time there's a change, Mr. Edwards."

He gave a small, twisted smile, nodding and patting Eyes' shoulder. "Thank you," he said. "I'll be heading out now."

Eyes merely nodded, and he left to fetch his accomplice.

———

Ethan glanced around the block, trying to shake off the unnerving feeling of being watched. He looked over his shoulder, down the sidewalk, through the alleyways, yet found nothing. The occasional people would walk past him, walking their dogs or chatting on their phones.

    He sighed and shook his head. "You're just paranoid," he told himself, continuing his way to Mark's house. Still, despite his words, he glanced around and snuck around the backway—out of sight from cameras and average people. A route that he and Mark planned in case either of them were in danger; not to be used often.

    Ethan deeply sighed as he let the darkness wash over him, looking up to see the sky fading with sunset. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and continued down the alleyway, ducking under a tear in a chain fence once the walls opened up. His feet rustled through grass, and he sped across three lawns before sprinting up Mark's backdoor. He knocked, glancing around, and waited.

    The door swung open, revealing Mark's raised brow and tight lips.

    "Everything alright?" he asked, tipping his head out the door and glancing both ways. Ethan pushed past him, and Mark closed the door.

    "Just—paranoid," said Ethan. He added the lie: "I get skittish before I kill sometimes."

    "You're sure?" asked Mark as they made their way into the kitchen, coming to a stop in front of the island counter.

    "Yeah," he said, pausing to stare Mark in the eye. "Don't worry—it's not going to affect tonight."

    Mark nodded, and Ethan smiled, pulling out items from his pockets: a baggie of pills, some powder, folded bits of paper, and a syringe. When Mark blinked at the last device, Ethan chuckled.

    "In case things go wonky," he said, patting the daunting needle. His eyes trained over to the paper. "This is for you. The Tear Stealer's most visited places."

    Mark took it from his hands, stowing it away in his pocket with a grin. "Thanks."

    Ethan nodded, turning back to the marble counter. "Now," he said, hands hovering over the pills and the powder. "Depending on how things go tonight determines which drug we use." He pointed to the pills.

    "This dissolves in seconds, but it's visible before that—unless our guy has a dark drink. If he's too close, we won't use this. This is when he's gone or completely distracted from his drink." Ethan pointed to the powder, its white contents resembling a much more fun drug. "We'll use the powder when he's too close—not my favorite method, but it has its pros."

    Mark rose a brow, and he continued, turning to look at him.

    "Say I drop some of the loose powder—well, that's suspicious. Where the fuck did that shit come from, yknow?" He began to pack away the poisons into his pockets again. "I use the ol' 'oh, that's my cocaine' trick. Practically everyone falls for it. I offer him to try it with me, I'll take him outside, and..."

    "I could kill him from there," said Mark, smiling. "I like it."

    Ethan smiled with a nod, leaning against the counter. "So, did you find out how you'll do it? Clean or messy?"

    Mark hummed, slipping out a switchblade from his pockets. Its surface gleamed daunting and thick. "I assumed that with the state of his blood, we should run him dry." His eyes glinted. "Safer to eat."

    Ethan grinned at that, rubbing his hands together. "Awesome," he said. "But—" He rose a finger. "If I see too much blood, I'm out."

    Mark laughed, stowing the knife away. "For a killer, you sure get queasy at the best parts of a murder."

    "Oh, shut up," he snickered, hitting Mark's arm. "Let me rest for a bit, and we'll head out. Sound good?"

    "The later the hour, the fewer the witnesses," hummed Mark, and they headed to the living room, resting and mulling over their future kill.

———

The killers loaded into Mark's car, veins thrumming with excitement. He smiled over at Ethan from the driver's side, pressing the button to open the garage.

    "Ready?" he asked.

    Ethan nodded, hand hovering over the pocket that held the poisons. "First stop: Red Beard Tavern."

———

"I haven't heard from you in an hour, Eyes," said the Tear Stealer, gazing at the streets through gleaming red eyes. At his side stood Xilef, the Aurist, eyes black and void—searching for similar auras to the one he felt during the interception.

    "His location disappeared," said Eyes through the intercom in his ear. "Like the place he stopped at was tap-proof."

    "An educated human," mumbled the Tear Stealer. A gasp came through his ear, and he rose a brow. "What'd you find?"

    "Nestor's location reappeared. Zooming in now." A pause came through the line. "He's driving—could be an Uber driver or your little fan."

    "Where."

    "They're making a stop at the Red Beard Tavern."

    He made a sound of disdain and straightened himself. "I'm logging off." He tapped his ear piece and glanced aside at Xilef, exchanging curt nods.

———

Mark parked on the side of the road, shoving the keys in his pocket and glancing at Ethan. They exchanged smiles before exiting and locking the car, walking into the bar: a dingy, ratty place, thrown off to the sides of society, but perfect for staying under the radar.

    As they entered, musk and alcohol flew into their faces—a wall of warmth. Mark hid a grimace, the chatter of drunken dillards filling his ears.

    "This is another reason why I don't drink," he grumbled, sweeping his eyes across the tavern. No alert faces; all dulled and waxen through booze.

    "Yeah," laughed Ethan. "That, and you'll die if you do."

    Mark smirked and playfully glared at him, and they sat down at the bartender's table. Music thrummed through the wooden walls, dampening the atmosphere.

    "Found anyone yet?" Mark asked Ethan, who ordered them two drinks to blend in better: a whiskey and a root beer. Mark smiled sourly at the beverage, pulling it close to him and taking a sip.

    "Very end," muttered Ethan, glancing sideways at the possible victim. Mark carefully trained his eyes in that direction, finding a man hunched over a pure vodka. A greyed beard adorned his shaggy face, clothes worn yet not fully distressed. Mark pursed his lips and hummed at the sight.

    "Closed off from everyone—no sign of friends. Protection," said Mark into his drink.  "Good. Not... delicious, though."

    Ethan hummed, turning around in his seat to act like he was watching television. Its screen blistered and hissed with static, chipped at a corner. Multiple people hung around the round tables in the tavern, mildly chatting but mostly focusing on their beers. No one else sat alone.

    "Should we go to another bar?" mumbed Ethan, staring at the edge of the TV to keep up his act. Mark hummed beside him, nose scrunching.

    "Nah," he said. "Unless you want something with more pizazz."

    Ethan turned around, taking a small swig from his untouched whiskey. "He's fine," said Ethan with a smile. "I don't like too much attention anyway. Guy like him disappearing? No one really cares."

    "Could be a cop."

    "You kidding me?" snickered Ethan. "LA officers may go undercover, but they have signs that give them away. "You see the way he sits?"

    Mark slightly glanced over at the man.

    "His back is worn from countless days of hunching over like that. Pitiful, really." Ethan gazed at Mark with a smirk. "Professionals can recreate that. Not state officers."

    "I'm impressed," said Mark, eyes glinting and half-lidded. "I wouldn't have known the difference."

    Ethan smiled. "You learn a few things when you kill like me," he said quietly, eyes gleaming. Mark glanced over at the man again, taking another sip of root beer.

    "So what's the plan?"

    Ethan hummed, eyes sweeping up and down the older man's figure. "Easy to approach," he said. "He may be dead in the eyes but he's focused on his drink. Wanna do the talking?"

    "Sure," said Mark. "So I'll distract him—talk a bunch of nonsense. You'll slip it then?"

    Ethan nodded. "You'll use some powder. If it spills and the cocaine trick doesn't work, leave it up to me." He glanced over at the man. "I'm sure it will, though. Give me a signal when you do it."

    Behind them, the doors opened—moonlight filtered through and a cold breeze blew by—but he ignored it. Ethan vaguely identified the newcomers and watched them sit in the far corner of the bar, turning around to watch Mark head over to the man and sit down beside him.

    Ethan lingered in his seat, taking another swig of whiskey—small but enough to calm his nerves in the slightest.

    In the far corner, the two newcomers watched the bar table.

    "Is that him?" asked the Tear Stealer in a low rumble, eyeing Ethan through rimmed sunglasses. It hid the red glow of his eyes.

    "Ethan Nestor, yes," muttered Xilef, staring at him. "His aura is weak, but his inner self..." He faintly nodded. "Loyal. Powerful."

    After a few more moments, they watched Mark glance to the side and blink at Ethan. Xilef straightened in his seat and kept his eyes trained on Mark, noting his aura.

    "Dark," he said, his stare unwavering. The Tear Stealer rose a brow and stared in his direction.

    "You think that's him?" he asked, staring at the back of Mark's head.

    Xilef's eyes narrowed, and he focused on the human's aura. "It's dangerous, just like what I sensed from the interception." His lips curled into an interested smirk. "His aura... it's constantly shifting. Negative emotions bred into a sickly positive."

    "And yet," said Dark with a pained, elegant drawl, "the human is so scrawny."

    Xilef huffed through his nose in amusement, glancing at the Tear Stealer. "There is power in his build," he said. "He's strong for a human."

    When Xilef glanced back, the three of them were gone. Both he and Dark only caught a glimpse of them leaving.

    "You say his aura is shifting," said the Tear Stealer, standing up so his robes swayed below him. "Can you tell if he's possibly an Evolved?"

    Xilef shook his head. "I can only sense auras. We're still human—only improved. Our auras are the same." He stood as well, and they left through the front entrance.

"If someone can identify an Evolved," continued the Aurist, "it's you, Dark."

He hummed, breathing in the cold night air. "If he really plans to kill me," he said, voice a low, regal drawl, "he'll be a dead man walking."

And the drama gets tenser,, 😈😈

Hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for reading, and have a wonderful dayy,

Kassian